"In the safe."
"Then we need to open it."
Nathan hesitated.
"There's a problem."
"What problem?"
He looked toward the front window.
"Someone broke into the store last night."
My blood ran cold.
"Was anything taken?"
"We don't know. The office was ransacked, but the safe wasn't opened."
I looked at the silver key.
"Then whoever did it might come back."
Nathan nodded.
Before I could speak, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent me a photograph.
I opened it.
The picture showed Thomas sitting in his hospital bed.
It had been taken the day before he died.
His eyes were closed.
Beside him stood a woman.
She was leaning over him, holding a small bottle.
At first, I couldn't see her face.
Then I zoomed in.
And my blood turned to ice.
Because I recognized her.
I had trusted that woman for more than thirty years.
She had helped me arrange Thomas's funeral.
