Chapter 7: The Ledger of Compromising Receipts
The examination room smelled intensely of bleach and old carpet, a sterile attempt to cover up the lingering odors of frightened animals and neglect. Dr. Thomas sank into a swivel stool behind a cluttered metal desk, his hands trembling slightly as he fumbled with a stack of yellowed manila folders. A gooseneck lamp cast a harsh circle of light over his desk, illuminating the nervous sweat beading on his forehead.
"It wasn't my idea," Dr. Thomas blurted out before Julian could even cross the small room. He didn't look at us; his gaze remained fixed on a stained coffee mug sitting beside his keyboard. "Mrs. Vance—Victoria—she came here personally. She said the animal was aggressive, that it had snapped at her visiting nieces. She wrote out the disposal fee in cash, right there on the counter."
Julian leaned both hands on the desk, bringing his face down close to the terrified veterinarian. The ambient blue glow from the sign outside pulsed against the window behind them. "My dog never snapped at a soul in his life, Thomas. He was a certified therapy animal. You took my money, you forged a cremation certificate, and you sold him—or worse, handed him over to someone who would dump him in a storm."
"I didn't dump him!" Dr. Thomas protested, holding up a defensive hand. "I couldn't bring myself to euthanize a healthy animal. I know the rules, I know my oath, but Victoria... she holds the mortgage on this building. If I refused her, she would have foreclosed by Monday morning. I placed Max with a farm out in West County. The family just... they couldn't keep him, apparently. He must have gotten loose during the storm last week."
I stood near the door, my arms crossed over my chest, watching the web of lies unravel in the sterile light. "So you pocketed the twelve hundred dollars for a service you never performed, and kept the paperwork clean by lying to both of us," I said, my voice cutting through the small room like a knife.
Dr. Thomas flinched at my words, finally looking up with a mixture of shame and anger. "Who are you, anyway? Just a hired girl."
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"She's the only reason my dog is alive right now," Julian said, straightening up with a slow, deliberate menace. He reached across the desk, grabbing the edge of the metal organizer and making the pens rattle violently. "Give me the ledger, Thomas. Every entry from that month. Every payout Victoria made to you or anyone else in this county."
The veterinarian hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting toward the locked filing cabinet in the corner. But the sheer force of Julian's presence broke whatever resolve he had left. With a defeated sigh, Dr. Thomas reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a thick black leather-bound ledger, and shoved it across the desk.
