“What does that mean?”
“It means there is no furniture inside.”
I stared at her.
“That can’t be right.”
“The interior has been cleared.”
“The books?”
“Gone.”
“Dad’s desk?”
“Gone.”
Liam stood.
“The ledger?”
Ruiz did not answer.
His face crumpled.
“No.”
I knew that look.
He blamed himself.
Again.
I pulled his hand.
“Sit down.”
“Maya, I should have—”
“Sit.”
He did.
“The ledger wasn’t the only copy.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
I turned toward Evelyn.
“You said Dad created the trust.”
“Yes.”
“And you said he was investigating Lake Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“He was an accountant before he became an investor.”
“Yes.”
I almost smiled.
“Then he kept a reconciliation copy.”
Evelyn stared.
Liam blinked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Dad hated single-source records.”
A memory surfaced.
I was fifteen.
Sitting at the dining table with my first checking account statement.
My father beside me.
