Chapter 5 - THE NEGOTIATION OF SOULS
I drove back to our apartment in a state of hyper-focused terror. Callahan was sitting exactly where I had left him, still in his wedding trousers, his face buried in his hands. When he heard the door click, his head snapped up.
"Merritt?" he breathed, standing up quickly.
"Your father is alive," I said, my voice eerily calm. "He has a gun, Callahan. And he wants the ledger."
Callahan’s face drained of color. He guided himself to the floorboards near the radiator, prying up a loose plank with trembling fingers. From the dust, he pulled a small, leather-bound notebook.
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"I thought he was dead," Callahan whispered. "I kept this because it was the only proof I had that the fire wasn't a tragic accident. I kept it because I was building the courage to take it to the FBI. I sought you out to give you this, Merritt. I wanted to give you justice."
He walked toward me, holding the book out. "I didn't plan to fall in love with you. I didn't plan for you to become my entire world. But you did. Take it. Give it to him, give it to the police, whatever keeps you safe. I don't care about my life anymore. I only care about yours."
