Chapter 3 - The Breach
Back at the house on Elm Street, Luca was pacing a hole into the hardwood flooring of the master bedroom.
His phone was clutched in his hand, his knuckles white. He had tried calling Jessi six times; each call went straight to voicemail. He had called her sister, Chloe, who was currently sitting on the edge of the king-size bed wrapped in a silk robe, looking like a cornered animal.
“She knows, Luca,” Chloe hissed, her voice shaking. “I told you we shouldn’t have used the guest room. I told you she’d smell the perfume, or see the shoes by the door—!”
“Shut up, Chloe!” Luca snapped, spinning around to glare at her. “Panic won’t help us. She’s bluffing about the safe key. That key is locked in the garage toolbox inside a steel lockbox. She couldn't possibly have gotten to it.”
“Go check, then!” Chloe shouted, standing up. “Go look in the garage right now!”
Luca cursed under his breath, threw on a hoodie over his sweatpants, and stormed down the stairs. The house felt abnormally cold and empty without Fiona padding around or Jessi moving through the kitchen with her quiet, efficient grace. He hit the mudroom door, pushed it open, and hurried out to the garage.
The morning sun was fully up now, casting harsh yellow light through the dirty garage windows. Luca strode over to his workbench. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his red metal toolbox.
The false bottom was ajar.
His breath caught in his throat. He reached inside, his fingers scrabbling against the empty foam lining. The master tubular key—the key that unlocked the fireproof safe hidden behind the built-in bookshelves in his home office—was gone.
“Bitch,” Luca breathed, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.
He bolted back into the house, tearing up the stairs to the second-floor study. He rushed to the mahogany bookcase, shoved aside three rows of leather-bound legal encyclopedias, and pressed the hidden release latch. The heavy wooden panel swung open, revealing the heavy digital safe embedded in the drywall.
He punched in his six-digit passcode.
The screen flashed red. ERROR.
He tried again, his fingers trembling so badly he hit the wrong buttons. ERROR.
On the third incorrect attempt, the safe locked down for a mandatory fifteen-minute security lockout, emitting a shrill, high-pitched beep that echoed through the quiet house.
Luca slammed his fist against the drywall, cursing violently. Jessi hadn't just taken the key; she had anticipated his digital security measures, or she had used the master override key to lock him out of his own vault before he could secure his escape hatch.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number.
May you like
He pulled it out. It was a single photograph, taken through the windshield of a car, showing the exterior of a local bank downtown, followed by a text:
The safety deposit box at First National is next, Luca. We can do this the hard way, or you can meet me at Marcus Vance’s law office at noon. Your choice.
