Chapter 4: The Ledger’s Lies

The department office was usually deserted after hours, a quiet haven of metal cabinets and dusty folders.

I waited until midnight, the glow of the streetlights painting long shadows across the empty parking lot.

Using my key card, I slipped inside.

The scent of old paper and cleaning solution hung in the air.

My target was the procurement records, kept in the locked filing cabinet by Deputy Chief Kane’s desk.

I knew the combination from years of training.

My heart hammered a nervous rhythm against my ribs.

I wasn’t a criminal, but this felt like it.

A flashlight beam cut through the darkness as I opened the drawer, revealing rows of neatly organized files.

I started with the most recent acquisitions, focusing on anything related to “pipes” or “infrastructure” – those keywords from Ethan’s overheard conversation.

The first few files were unremarkable.

Standard invoices, standard suppliers.

Then, I found it.

A purchase order for “advanced water delivery systems” – essentially, new hoses and fittings – dated six months prior.

The price listed was exorbitant, far beyond what the department budget should allow for such items.

My breath hitched.

The supplier was listed as “Summit Supplies LLC.”

I remembered Robert Henderson’s laugh echoing in Ethan’s story.

“No one ever checks the real numbers anyway!”

I quickly cross-referenced “Summit Supplies LLC” online.

A quick search brought up a business registration in a neighboring county.

The registered agent: Robert Henderson.

My blood ran cold.

Elias wasn’t just benefiting from some vague influence; he was directly colluding.

I pulled out more files, my fingers trembling slightly.

Equipment maintenance contracts.

Vehicle repair invoices.

Training facility upgrades.

“Summit Supplies LLC” appeared again and again, linked to inflated costs and vaguely worded service descriptions.

I noticed a pattern: all these purchases, especially the high-value ones, bore Elias Finch’s signature on the approval line.

His looping, confident scrawl was undeniable.

It wasn’t just “old pipes.”

It was everything.

Outdated fire hoses disguised as “high-pressure conduit.”

Cheap, off-brand respirators billed as “advanced atmospheric filtration devices.”

Even the “new” ladder truck we’d received last year – a model that already felt clunky and prone to minor issues – had components listed under “Summit Supplies LLC” at prices that could have bought us a brand-new, top-of-the-line vehicle.

The scale of it made my head spin.

This wasn’t petty theft; it was systematic fraud, draining the department of critical funds.

Funds meant for our safety.

For the community’s safety.

My gut clenched with a mixture of rage and grim satisfaction.

Ethan’s innocent comment had led me to the rotten core.

Elias Finch, the esteemed pillar of Twin Peaks, was a thief.

And Robert Henderson was his willing accomplice.

I carefully photographed every incriminating document with my phone, the soft click of the shutter the only sound in the silent office.

Each flash illuminated another piece of their elaborate lie.

This wasn’t just about clearing my name anymore.

This was about justice.

For the department.

For Twin Peaks.

And for every woman Elias had driven out to protect his secrets.

I packed the files back, feeling a profound shift inside me.

I was no longer just a target.

I was a hunter.