Chapter 8: The Safe

The Harlow house stood dark at two in the morning, a gray stone mansion on the point with the sea slamming the rocks below.

I had grown up here.

I had never once come to it through the kitchen window.

Doyle held it open for me, and I slid inside onto the cold tile.

Valentin followed, quiet for a big man, a gun in his hand.

"The study's on the second floor," I whispered. "Behind the painting of the Aurora."

"Your brother has men here?"

"Two in the front hall. Probably two upstairs."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what I would do."

He gave me a long look in the dark. I didn't explain.

We took the back stairs.

The study door was unlocked, which was the first thing that was wrong.

A painting of a clipper ship hung over the fireplace, and behind it sat a steel safe the size of a bread box, with a black glass panel in the front.

I pressed my left palm to the glass.

The panel glowed green. Something heavy clicked inside.

"It knows you," Valentin said quietly.

"Father made it to."

The door swung open.

Inside lay a fat brown envelope, a black ledger and a small tarnished key.

I reached for the envelope.

Behind us, a lamp snapped on.

"Hello, sister," said Calvin.

He sat in my father's leather chair in the corner with one leg crossed over the other.

Four men stood around him, with guns.

"You came for the safe," Calvin said sadly. "Of course you did. That's why Lacey told you, isn't it? She always was a soft one."

Valentin swung his gun up. Two guns swung up at him.

"Mr. Creighton," Calvin said pleasantly. "I'm grateful to you for bringing her. I've been trying to get her hand in here for a week."

Valentin swept the ledger and the key off the shelf into his coat.

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