Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Clay
The next morning, Maren did not go to the grocery store, and she did not stay home to count her pennies. Instead, she took the bus down to the historic district, her heart pounding a furious rhythm against her ribs.
She walked straight into the pottery studio. Casper was already there, working a fresh block of gray clay on his wheel. The room smelled of wet earth and wet slate.
"We need a lawyer, Casper," Maren said without preamble, slamming the manila envelope onto the wooden workbench. "But I don't have a single dollar to retain one. Ledger controls the local bank, and he knows every prominent attorney in this county."
Casper stopped his wheel, wiping his slick hands on a canvas apron. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
"Ledger thinks he owns this town because he bought the politicians," Casper said, walking over to the locked oak cabinet. "But he doesn't own everyone. There’s a man named Harrison Vance. He used to be the top corporate litigator in the state before he retired out here to live a quiet life. He was a dear friend of Whit’s."
"Will he help us?" Maren asked, a glimmer of hope piercing through her anxiety.
"He'll help you for the sake of Whit's memory," Casper said. "But we need more than just these papers, Maren. Ledger’s lawyers will claim Whit signed over his shares voluntarily before he died. We need proof that the signature was forged or obtained under duress."
Casper walked over to the tall crimson vase on the middle shelf—the one with Whit's distinct thumbprint near the base. He picked it up with extreme care.
"Look closer at the glaze, Maren," Casper instructed.
Maren stepped forward, squinting at the intricate swirling patterns of the deep blue and crimson glaze. Underneath the glossy finish, etched into the very body of the clay before it had been fired, were microscopic, neat numbers and letters. It looked like a series of financial account codes and dates.
"Whit knew Ledger was skimming from the business weeks before he got sick," Casper revealed.
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"He didn't trust his home office—he knew Ledger had a key. So, while he was hiding out here, pretending to just make art, he etched the hidden ledger accounts, routing numbers, and dates of Ledger's illegal transfers directly into the clay of his final ten pieces. Once fired, that evidence became permanent. It cannot be altered, deleted, or shredded."
Maren stared at the beautiful vase in awe. Her husband hadn't just been a dreamer; he had been a brilliant strategist. He had turned his art into an unassailable vault of evidence.
