“Hey, let’s have a playdate soon,” she suggested. “Maxwould love to get together with Juliet.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I smiled, hiding the sadness inmy eyes. “Juliet would love that too.”
We said official goodbyes and I walked toward the back,pretending to look for the restrooms.
It didn’t matter where I was walking because I slippeddown the stairs as soon as I was hidden behind the art display dividers. Icrept down them slowly, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. Nobody seemedto notice me or my snooping. Which was a good thing because I planned to do alot more of it.
At the bottom of the stairs, I took my time openingdoors down the corridor and listening for anyone that could have followed me. Ifound the supply closet and a janitor’s closet, and lo and behold, an emergencyexit to outside. It led to a stairwell that resurfaced in an alley.
I went back to the supply closet, found a box cutterand snipped the wires connected to the push bar on the door just in case analarm went off when I opened it. I tucked the box cutter into my pocket andheaded for the office.
It appeared to be locked, which I had suspected itwould be. But it seemed to be a more complicated system than the first time Iwas here. It wanted fingerprints and a key code. I didn’t have the rightfingerprints, nor did I have time to figure out the right code.
Damn it. I was just about to try to box cut my waythrough the door, when I noticed there were no lights on the keypad. I pushedmy pointer finger to the scanner and nothing happened.
The lock system would be highly sophisticated,eventually, when they set it up. Currently, it was absolutely useless.
Smiling at my good luck, I pulled out my old set ofcurtain picks and quickly worked the mortise handle. It clicked open with asatisfying tick and I walked into the office with dollar signs cha-chingingin my eyes.
No, it was more than that. To say I was excited tomake money was not the whole truth. It was the satisfaction from the job, thethrill of the hunt and spike of adrenaline.
I stood in the dark in the middle of the office, myblood rushing and a smile on my face, realizing something crucial. Oh, my god,I’d missed this. I felt more alive than I had in weeks… months… maybe years.Everything was suddenly in color again. Not just black and white or mutedtones, but vibrant, effervescent, neon hues.
I wanted to believe I was all upstanding citizen andrighteous moral compass, but the truth was, I was a criminal. To my very core.This was the life I had been raised in, the only truth I had ever known.
Caroline Valera was good at lying, but she wasvery good at stealing.
Tonight would not only be my vindication, it would bemy redemption.
Moving immediately to Sayer’s desk, I flipped his lampon and surveyed all that was available. I opened my big purse and starteddumping things in it. Jewelry and a signed rare baseball, a collection of veryold, very gold coins, whatever I could find that I thought would fetch a decentpaycheck. I pulled the Leighton off the wall and set it near the door. It wasmine. The hitman’s handbook too. And a Faberge egg that could have terribleconsequences if anyone ever found out it was me that took it.
More, my greedy thief’s heart whispered.
It’s yours anyway, my better, usually moral sideagreed.
He stole it from you.
Scanning the office, my eyes fell on the safe. Iwalked over to it and slid my hand along the top.
“What are you hiding?” I asked it. I could never haveunlocked it without help. It was big and bulky and complicated—all the things Ihated in a safe. And it was by a brand I didn’t recognize which meant Icouldn’t even wing it. I had no idea how it was built or the secret to crackingit. It was a total and complete enigma.
Except it wasn’t locked.
I noticed the crack at the top when I ran my fingersover it. Gripping the large handle, I pulled. It opened.Haha!Hello, secrets.
Although part of me had to wonder how juicy thesesecrets were if Gus and Sayer didn’t even bother locking the safe behind them.
But when thedoor was open, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to know them after all. I had beenexpecting more valuables, maybe files they didn’t want other people to find. Iwanted something from Sayer’s time in prison or Gus’s stint as the bookkeeperfor thebratva.
Instead, I got one manila envelope. In the entiresafe, just that one, thick, ominous envelop. And if the titling wasn’t awarning then I didn’t know what was. I started to question my entire time downhere.
Where were Sayer and Gus? Didn’t they have arestaurant to run?
Had no one noticed me come down here? Was it reallythat easy?
No. On all of the jobs I’d ever been on, not one hadbeen this easy.
In fact, we could say this was too easy.
