“Then what?” Gideon demanded.
Merritt thought.
“County prosecutor in Silverton.”
“Jonah owns half the county.”
“Not Silverton.”
“Proof?”
“I can certify the substances.”
Mabel said:
“Not that Jonah gave them.”
Silence.
Exactly.
They needed chain of possession.
Witnesses.
Records.
Something tying Jonah directly.
Mabel looked toward the window.
“There may be a ledger.”
Gideon turned.
“Where?”
“His office.”
“You know?”
“My mother kept records.”
“Of the mine?”
“Everything.”
Mabel’s pulse quickened.
“Jonah never throws papers away when they involve money.”
Gideon understood.
“You want to go back.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She stared.
He sighed.
“Now I understand how I sound.”
“Good.”
“But still no.”
Mabel stood.
“It’s my inheritance.”
“Your life.”
“Also mine.”
Gideon’s jaw tightened.
Merritt looked between them.
“This marriage seems peaceful.”
Neither answered.
Mabel continued:
“If Jonah suspects I know, he’ll destroy records.”
“He already suspects.”
“Then we have less time.”
Gideon looked at her for a long moment.
Finally:
“We don’t go alone.”
They built a plan.
Merritt would travel separately.
Gideon contacted Sheriff Amos Vale in Silverton, not Ridge Creek.
Vale agreed to review evidence but refused to move without direct connection.
Fair.
Mabel appreciated that.
Too many men acted as though suspicion and proof were interchangeable when convenient.
They needed Jonah’s accounts.
Mabel knew the house.
The office.
The hidden wall cabinet where he kept documents too dangerous for ordinary drawers.
She also knew how to open it.
Her mother had taught her.
That was one of many things Jonah never realized Mabel knew.
The plan required entering during a church supper when Jonah would be away.
Mabel almost laughed at the irony.
The same congregation that mocked her wedding would provide cover.
They returned to Ridge Creek after dark six weeks into the marriage.
Mabel wore a plain brown cloak.
Gideon stayed outside town with Sheriff Vale.
Merritt attended the supper openly because doctors were always welcome around older parishioners.
Mabel entered Jonah’s house through the kitchen.
The place smelled exactly the same.
Furniture polish.
Coal smoke.
His cigars.
Her childhood.
Fear arrived with memory.
She stopped.
Nearly turned around.
Then she felt the silver wedding ring.
Gideon was less than half a mile away.
Not rescuing her.
Waiting because she had chosen to enter.
That distinction gave her courage.
She climbed the stairs.
Jonah’s office door was locked.
Mabel used the key she had copied years earlier.
Inside, nothing seemed changed.
Large desk.
Leather chair.
Portrait of her mother.
That always angered her.
Jonah displayed Hannah like proof of love after spending years draining her estate.
Mabel crossed toward the wall cabinet.
Removed a landscape painting.
Opened the hidden latch.
Ledgers.
Contracts.
Letters.
She took only what mattered.
Mine payments.
Medical expenses.
Correspondence with Bellamy.
Then she saw one envelope.
Her name.
Sealed.
In her mother’s handwriting.
Mabel stopped.
Impossible.
Hannah had died seven years earlier.