The Wistful Letter
14th November, 1893. The ledgers are gone. I have searched the archive for three hours, my fingers black with dust, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I need the numbers to prove Dr. Vane is stealing from the patients’ trust funds. It is simple arithmetic. Money in, money out, and the gap is his pocket. But the books that should be on the shelf are not there. Only the smell...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare