Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
One of the clerks crosses the aisle just as I get to the corner. I pull the trolley hard, braking before I slam into her. The momentum tips the trolley forward, the wheels turning at ninety degrees. Papers fly everywhere. The neatly stacked piles slip off the side and land on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says, her expression aghast as she looks at the papers littering the tiles.
“No, I’m sorry. I thought I was going to run you over. This trolley is heavy. You could’ve been hurt.”
She turns in a circle, taking in the chaos with dismay. “Do you want me to help you gather this?”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
She seems relieved. “I’ll let you get on with it then.”
Her heels clack over the floor as she hurries away.
There goes two hours of nothing. Redoing everything is going to put me a day behind on my deadlines. Despondent, I go down on my knees. It’s no use crying over spilled milk. I’ll just have to clean up the mess and start from scratch.
Already dreading the task, I scrape papers together. When I straighten to put a stack on the trolley, my gaze falls on a box in the middle of the shelf that’s sticking out. Tucked between the other boxes, it’s tipped onto one corner, looking as if it’s balancing in the air. The boxes are in a section that dates from three years back, which means they’re sealed. No one needs to access them unless there’s a tax investigation or an account dispute.
A few stepping stools are stacked throughout the room to give access to the lower boxes. Higher step ladders are available for the boxes at the top. Fetching a stool from the end of the aisle, I climb onto it and pull the box down. Fingerprints mark the dust on the top. The seal is broken. Someone opened the box recently.
I glance over my shoulder, my pulse quickening as I wiggle off the lid. Dividers are organized by labels inside. I walk my fingers through the alphabet, going through the papers. An envelope is pushed into the middle. I pull it out, frowning as I turn it over. The envelope is sealed, but nothing is written on it.
The voices of the clerks reach me from their desk at the other end of the room. My heart beats in my throat as I tear the envelope open and peer inside. It contains a key with a tag attached to it. I turn the envelope upside-down, letting the key glide onto my palm. Warning bells go off in my head not only because of what I may find but also because the women’s voices have gone quiet.
I turn the tag over with a trembling hand.
“Anya,” the chief clerk calls. A chair scrapes over the floor. “Do you need a hand?”
Mr. Lewis’s name is written on the tag in his handwriting. I’ll recognize that scribble anywhere. I often typed up his notes.
“Anya?”
Footsteps fall hard on the floor.
It’s a strange key with three cylinders on the end. I’ve never seen anything like it. It must fit into a very specific kind of lock. I close my fingers around the key, the blood gushing in my ears as I realize what I hold in my hands.
“Anya,” the clerk says, her voice coming from closer.
This is what Mr. Lewis did in the vault on the night Saverio killed him.
“Anya, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I call, slipping the key into my pocket.
I fit the lid with unsteady hands and push the box back into its place before clambering off the stool. I’m barely on the ground when the clerk appears.
She eyes the destruction around me. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer me?”
I place a hand on my brow. “I got a little dizzy.” I don’t even have to act. I’m still shaky from my discovery. “I had to sit down for a while.”
She scrutinizes me. “You’re pale.”
“Low blood sugar,” I say with a tremulous smile.
“Get this mess cleaned up and call it a day in here. I’ll tell Ms. Price you’ll finish the filing tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I say, crouching to pick up the papers.
I don’t look at her again lest she sees the guilt on my face. I don’t stop until her shoes disappear around the shelf. Only then do I sit back on my heels and drag in a breath to steady the erratic beating of my heart.
Mr. Lewis knew there was a possibility that Luigi would come for him. Saverio and Giorgio must’ve delivered a warning on that day they visited him at the office. He prepared for such an event. That’s why he carried a panic button with him. It didn’t save him though. But why did he hide the key, and what does it unlock?
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Saverio
The lunch with Luigi drags on until well after three. He likes to talk business over lengthy three-course meals in the restaurant of the hotel where After Dark is located. This afternoon’s topic is one that leaves his nephew edgy, because Antonio is fucking up the bookkeeping, and Luigi doesn’t like the candidates he interviewed, the ones I proposed. That means Antonio is stuck with the books, and if he messes the finances up more, he’ll end up with a bullet in his brain. Luigi is at the end of his patience.