Mystery
The Bellwether Ledger
Mara had catalogued every confession in Bellwether except the one written in her father's hand. It waited between tax rolls from 1978, folded twice and sealed with the blue wax he had used on her childhood birthday cards. Outside the archive, the courthouse clock struck six. Inside, dust turned slowly through the desk lamp's narrow light. She read the first line, then locked the records room door. By morning, three people would be searching for the letter. One of them had already killed to keep it hidden.
