//CLARA//
The tannery shivered under the merciless winter.
Gary led the way, with Hattie a step behind me, her eyes darting to every broken window. Then, Gary stopped dead, shoving a hand out to force us into the deep recess of an abandoned loading bay.
"Down."
I blinked against the stinging frost, peering around the edge of the rusted iron frame.
The tannery sat fifty yards ahead. Three men were pacing the perimeter.
One of them stood by the rotting main door. Another was peering through a shattered lower window, a crowbar resting casually over his shoulder.
A cold spike of adrenaline shot straight through my stomach as I turned to Gary.
"If this is the safest place to hide the ledger," I hissed, "then why are there already people circling it like it's a carcass?"
Gary frowned.
"Please don't blame me. I don't know either. I don't think I can trust my memories. They're… slippery. Plus my head is splitting down the middle. And I'm guessing based on ghosts."
