I set down the receipt before I could crease it. “You keep asking what happened to Hannah, but you are avoiding what happened to the money.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Caleb took a small bite of chicken and asked whether I wanted the rest of the gravy.
I left the receipt on the table, but I kept its date in mind.
At 8:05 that evening, I returned to the vineyard office with Caleb and the bookkeeper. The office clock ticked above a cabinet filled with old property files. Caleb had placed the ledger on his desk and was closing it when I entered.
“I need the original lake lot receipt,” I said.
“You have a copy.”
“I need the original.”
He rested both hands on the ledger cover. “What difference does the paper make if the figures agree?”
“The figures don’t agree with the account information I have.”
