Names.
Payments.
Favors.
Results.
A county clerk.
A banker.
A private investigator.
A retired judge.
Then Pierce reached a section marked MILITARY.
Officers.
Former officers.
Contractors.
Spouses.
Promotions delayed.
Complaints buried.
Medical reviews influenced.
Security clearances questioned.
Beside an entry dated six months earlier was my name.
OUTCOME PENDING.
“This extends far beyond domestic fraud,” my new deputy, Lieutenant Colonel Mateo Serrano, said.
Pierce closed the ledger.
“Yes.”
Marjorie smiled.
“You found paper. Congratulations.”
She looked at me.
“Paper burns.”
An agent shouted from the rear of the house.
“Smoke!”
The basement alarm began screaming.
Agents moved toward the stairs.
Someone ordered me outside.
Then I remembered the metal trunk Daniel always described as a box of childhood keepsakes.
I ran down before anyone could stop me.
Smoke curled through the basement.
A plastic bin burned near the utility shelves.
Flames climbed toward stacked boxes.
Daniel stood near the basement window.
