The Crimson Ledger

Rain fell hard against the 47th floor windows. Externally, Matheson & Co. continued to resemble every other Manhattan-based corporate finance firm—respectful, dull. Internally, however, in the rear of frosted glass and strained grins, there existed something deeper, something seedy, flowing beneath the numbers.

Detective Leo Calder alone occupied the office of Bernard Matheson, the company founder, now cooling on the floor next to his spilled scotch. One bullet had passed straight through his temple. No struggle marks. No break-down entry. And yet, it was not a suicide. Leo had witnessed too many set scenes to miss the difference.

On the desk was a black leather-bound book—a odd artifact in a digital age. The sort of thing men used when they didn't want transactions easily hacked or traced.

Inside, red ink figures leaped like hieroglyphs. Offshore accounts. Shell companies. Payoffs. A ledger, but not one for tax purposes.

Leo turned a few pages. Then he stopped.

Page 7: Calder – $150K – 11/12/21 – SILENCE.

His name. His badge number. A payoff?

Leo's blood turned cold. He'd never taken a dime, never bent. But someone had forged him into this book.

Or worse—someone was warning him.

The door groaned. Leo turned, gun up. It was Cassie Myles, the firm's internal auditor, the one who'd warned him about the suspicious entries last week.

She stood frozen at the sight of the gun and the body.

"Oh my god. He's really dead," she whispered.

"You called this in," Leo said, dropping the gun. "Why?"

Cassie's gaze flicked to the notebook. "Because the money's on the move again. Every time someone gets close, another name appears. Yours was next."

"You think this was about the ledger?"

"No," she said. "I think it is the ledger."

Cassie retrieved her phone from the pocket of her coat and held up a photo—an offshore account that had been depleted two hours prior to Bernard's murder.

"That account belonged to Matheson," she stated. "But it was cleared out by someone using your badge credentials."

Leo gazed at the figures. "Someone's setting me up."

"Or threatening you."

Lightning crackled behind her. Then the office lights hummed—and extinguished.

They both stood motionless. Quiet.

Then the elevator chimed.

Cassie went white. "No one else is supposed to be here."

Leo yanked her behind the desk and dropped into a crouch. He pulled out his backup Glock, the silencer still on. Footsteps clattered on the marble floor outside.

He breathed, "How many people know about the ledger?"

"Just me. And—"

A muffled shot rang out. The office door burst open. A man in a balaclava strode in, sweeping the room with a silenced pistol and military training.

Leo waited until the man stepped over Matheson's body, then shot once—straight through the man's right eye. He fell without a sound.

Cassie stood there, frozen.

Leo grabbed the dead man's phone. No contacts. No fingerprints. Clean.

But in the man's pocket was a torn page—from the ledger.

One word on it:

"Next."

Cassie breathed softly, "This goes deeper than we thought.

Leo nodded bitterly. "This wasn't a money thing. It's a kill list, masquerading as a ledger."

"And we're on it," she replied.

Leo stared out the rain-spattered window as sirens started rising in the distance.

"Then we burn it all," he said. "And start hunting."

Final Scene (Epilogue Tease):

Weeks later, an anonymous new ledger appears at Leo's precinct mailbox—smaller, leather-bound, red-stained.

Inside: a new list. Ten names.

The final one: Cassie Myles.