The storm outside had settled into a steady downpour, but inside the tavern, tension clung to the air like the humidity of the bay. Clara's pulse quickened as Lila rushed toward her, her phone gripped so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her expression teetered between fear and urgency.
“What’s in the email?” Clara asked sharply, stepping closer.
Lila hesitated only long enough to swipe through her phone, her trembling fingers betraying her calm voice. “It’s from Oliver’s account. It came just before he… before he died.” She handed Clara the phone, the screen illuminating a short but damning message.
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Subject: Urgent: What I Found
Lila,
I’ve uncovered something—something big. The smuggling operations weren’t just about goods; they were connected to organized crime, and it’s not just history. It’s still happening.
Certain families in Blackwater Bay have everything to lose if this gets out. I’ve found proof, but I think I’m being followed. If anything happens to me, find the 1923 ledger in the archives. It explains everything.
Trust no one.
—O
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Clara felt a chill spread through her chest. Her instincts had been right: this wasn’t a simple murder; this was a storm brewing beneath the surface of Blackwater Bay, and Oliver had been the first casualty.
“The ledger,” Clara said softly, glancing up at Marco and Lila. “If it exists, it’s the key to everything. But if Oliver was being followed, we’re not the only ones looking for it.”
Marco leaned in, reading over her shoulder. “You think whoever killed him is trying to cover it up?”
“I don’t think,” Clara said grimly. “I know. We need to move now—before they get there first.”
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THE BLACKWATER ARCHIVES
The old brick building loomed against the rainy night like a forgotten relic of another era. Its weathered facade and dimly lit windows made it seem less like a place of records and more like a mausoleum for secrets long buried. Clara pushed through the heavy oak doors, the faint scent of mildew and paper hitting her immediately.
“Keep your guard up,” Clara whispered as the trio entered the archives. The interior was silent, save for the faint hum of flickering fluorescent lights overhead.
They navigated through aisles of towering shelves, each crammed with brittle documents and leather-bound ledgers. The deeper they moved into the archives, the more Clara felt the weight of history pressing in on her.
“The 1923 ledger should be in the main records room,” she said, leading the way. The path narrowed until they reached a heavy wooden door at the back of the building. Clara glanced at Marco, who gave her a curt nod before she pushed it open.
The records room was cavernous, its shelves reaching nearly to the ceiling. Dust motes swirled in the weak light. It was the kind of place where secrets went to die—or, in Oliver’s case, to be unearthed.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Spread out,” Clara instructed. “Look for anything from 1923.”
Minutes ticked by as they scoured the room. Clara’s heart raced with every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound that could have been the wind—or something else.
“Got it!” Marco called, pulling a thick, weathered ledger from a high shelf. He placed it on a nearby table, and Clara and Lila crowded around as he flipped it open. The pages were yellowed and brittle, the handwriting elegant but dense.
Clara scanned the entries, her finger tracing names and transactions. Then she froze.
“Here,” she said, pointing. The entry detailed a series of smuggling routes, but the names attached made her blood run cold: Lark, Blackwood, Ashford.
“These families have been running Blackwater for generations,” Lila said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Oliver was right. This ties them directly to the smuggling operations.”
“And this one.” Clara pointed to another line. “It’s not just historical. Look—this ledger doesn’t just stop in 1923. There are entries from the 1940s, even the 1950s.”
“They kept it going,” Marco said grimly. “For decades.”
But Clara’s eyes caught something else. One page near the back had been torn out, leaving jagged edges. Her heart sank.
“Someone’s been here,” she said. “They knew what Oliver was looking for.”
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A SHADOW IN THE ARCHIVES
Before Clara could say more, the lights flickered, casting the room into a brief, eerie darkness. Lila gasped, clutching Clara’s arm.
“Someone’s here,” Marco muttered, his hand instinctively moving toward his sidearm.
The faint sound of footsteps echoed from the front of the building. Clara motioned for silence, her pulse pounding in her ears.
They slipped into the shadows, ducking behind a row of shelves. The footsteps grew louder, heavier, until they stopped just outside the records room.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside—a woman, her features sharp and familiar. Clara’s breath caught.
“Hannah Lark,” she whispered.
Hannah scanned the room, her expression a mix of determination and fear. She stepped closer to the table, her eyes falling on the ledger. Clara watched as Hannah hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached for it.
Clara stepped out of the shadows. “Looking for something?”
Hannah froze, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face Clara. “Detective Bennett. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or maybe the right place at the right time,” Clara shot back. “You knew Oliver was onto something. What was it, Hannah? What are you trying to hide?”
“I’m trying to survive,” Hannah snapped. Her composure cracked, revealing the fear beneath. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. These families—they don’t just bury secrets. They bury people.”
“So you admit Oliver was killed because of what he found?” Marco demanded, stepping out to join Clara.
Hannah hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Yes. He got too close, and someone panicked. But if you think you can take this ledger and bring them down, you’re wrong. They control everything—police, politicians, the courts. They’ll destroy you before you get close.”
Clara stepped closer, her voice low and steady. “Maybe. But I’m not backing down. Now tell me—what was on the missing page?”
Before Hannah could answer, a loud crash echoed from the front of the archives. Clara’s instincts flared.
“Move!” she hissed, grabbing the ledger and shoving it into her bag.
The trio slipped out a side door, leaving Hannah behind. As they darted into the alley behind the building, Clara glanced back, half expecting to see Hannah following. Instead, shadows moved in the rain-soaked street, indistinct but menacing.
“They know we’re onto them,” Marco said grimly.
“Good,” Clara replied, her determination hardening. “Let them come. We have what they’re trying to hide, and I’m going to make sure the world sees it.”
As they vanished into the night, Clara knew the ledger was only the beginning. Blackwater Bay’s secrets ran deep—and she was prepared to uncover every last one.