Chapter 7 - The Unseen Ledger
Boyd sat completely still, the coffee cooling forgotten between them. He felt a sickening pit in his stomach. For two years, this entire town had built a monument of saintly martyrdom around Trudy Odum, while using Roz as the scapegoat to absorb all the collective guilt.
"Why didn't you tell them?" Boyd asked, his voice rough with indignation. "When the town turned against you, when they didn't let you sit with his family at the funeral... why did you keep quiet?"
Roz looked down at her hands, her voice barely audible. "Because on Clay's nightstand, there was an envelope addressed to me. Inside was a note, and this ledger. In the note, Clay wrote: 'Don't tell her that I know. Don't tell the town. If they find out what Mama did, she’ll lose her house, her job, and her dignity. Let her keep her pride, Roz. It's the only thing she has left.'"
Tears finally spilled freely over Roz’s cheeks, catching the dull diner light. "He died trying to protect her reputation, Mr. Gaines. He died because he couldn't bear the thought of his mother being publicly humiliated. So when Trudy started telling people I drove him to drink, I kept my mouth shut. I packed my clothes and moved two towns over. I took the blame because it was the last thing Clay ever asked of me."
Boyd picked up the worn leather ledger, flipping through the pages. The dates, account numbers, and cash advances aligned with surgical precision. Trudy’s signature was scrawled on every unauthorized withdrawal form pasted inside the back cover.
"And why did she turn on you so viciously?" Boyd asked. "If you protected her secret, why the hatred?"
"Because every time she looks at me, she sees her own guilt," Roz said simply. "Trudy knows what was in that account. She knows why Clay got in that truck that night. As long as she can convince everyone else that I killed him, she doesn't have to look in the mirror and admit that she did."
Boyd closed the ledger with a quiet, decisive snap. His face had hardened into the expression he wore during hostile corporate negotiations—cold, immovable, and dangerous.
"Clay asked you to protect her," Boyd said, looking Roz straight in the eye. "He was a good son, but he was wrong. You don't let an innocent person burn to keep a coward warm."
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"Mr. Gaines, please don't confront her," Roz begged, panic lacing her voice. "If this gets out, it will destroy her. It will destroy what's left of Clay's memory."
"Clay's memory is already being destroyed every day you're treated like a pariah in my cafeteria," Boyd said firmly. He stood up, dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and looked at Roz. "Finish your coffee, Rosalyn. Tomorrow, this ends."
