Page 90 of A Future To Remember

There was a creaking sound and, to my surprise, the horseshoe fell forward while still attached to a small section of the wall—a hatch drawer that was probably twelve-by-twelve inches total.

A weight behind the lid of the drawer helped it open, and as I stood on tiptoes to peer inside the drawer, my breath caught when my gaze landed on a leather ledger measuring about seven-by-nine inches.

“Whoa! What’s in there?” Levi asked.

“A ledger.”

Reaching in, I took out the ledger and opened it, revealing that it was a three-ring binder, filled with pages of receipts, each taped to a blank white page. The dates on the receipts began in August 1998, and the last one was written October 17, 2000. The same day that Cash’s dad was murdered.

The receipts themselves were interesting. Almost all were for very minor repairs, and probably seventy-five percent were for a broken taillight or a headlight replacement.

Judging by how thick the binder was, the number of taillights and headlights that Red was replacing was eye-popping. There were at least five a week, sometimes considerably more.

But that wasn’t even the most eye-popping part. That honor went to the fees each car owner was charged for the repair.

Most were around two hundred dollars, but here and there, there were receipts in the neighborhood of a thousand dollars.

A thousand dollars to replace a taillight was beyond suspicious. It was criminal…and goosebumps lined my arms when I realized I was holding the smoking gun.

“Hey,” I said to Levi, who was still standing nervously nearby, while glancing over his shoulder out at the street. “Come here and look at this.”

He frowned but ambled on over. I showed him the ledger and held up the flashlight so he could read the receipts.

“Eight-hundred dollars to replace a turn signal?” he muttered. “What was it, made outta gold?”

I puffed out a breath. “More like made out of the cheapest plastic money could buy. But you’re missing it.”

Levi turned a few more pages, his brow deeply furrowed. “You’re right. What’s so important about these that Red needed to hide them in the wall?”

I was about to answer when the floor and walls of the garage lit up with the glow from a set of headlights.

Protectively, I took the journal out of Levi’s hands and said, “Get behind me.”

But Levi was frozen, his face a mask of fear. “Shit!” he hissed. “Maddy, we gotta make a run for it!”

I latched onto his arm, gripping it tightly. “You run and you’ll die, Levi,” I said. And that, I knew in my gut.

Levi and I were safer inside this place than out, and as if to reassure myself, I glanced up at the black globe that housed the security camera.

Footsteps outside the garage sounded, and my attention went quickly back to the front door. What was a bit odd was that whoever was outside—and I was ninety percent certain who it was—didn’t bother to look through the broken window. Instead, he walked to the front door, inserted a key, and unlocked it.

A moment later, the door swung outward and in stepped the sheriff.

I felt a rush of adrenaline as I stared at the man who’d had the trust of the entire town for decades. He’d played the part of dedicated lawman, rooting out trouble, keeping order, and making the town safer.

No one, it seemed, had ever suspected him of the scam he’d been running with Red Shoemaker, or the murder of Sheriff Cash Penton Sr., or the murders of Doug Maydole and eventually Red himself.

He brought up his flashlight and shined it right in our faces. I squinted but refused to shield my eyes.

“Well, well, well,” he all but sang. “What do we got here?”

“A killer,” I said, pointing at him. “A liar. A thief. A traitor. And an all-around asshole.”

He considered me for a long, silent moment. It would’ve unnerved me if I hadn’t been filled with so much adrenaline.

And then, he simply drew his pistol, motioned with it toward the ledger, and said, “I’ll take that.”

I wiggled it. “Oh, you mean this?”