Vero planted her feet. “What if he comes back and catches us inside?”
“We have him outnumbered.”
“If you’re counting feet! How am I supposed to defend myself without using my hands?”
“You can talk him to death with your big, fat mouth. This might be our only chance to see what he’s been doing in there. Do you want to come in with me or not?”
“Fine, but let’s do it quick.” Vero followed me to the back door, and I freed my jacket from the hinge. I peeked inside to make sure the coast was clear, then I held the door open for Vero. She crept inside, took a quick look around, and jerked her head, signaling for me to follow.
I tiptoed in after her, wincing at the snap of the latch as the door shut behind me. I held my breath, waiting for someone to leap out of the shadows and catch us, but the sound was muted by the hum of machines in the next room.
We took a moment to check our surroundings. There was a small bathroom, a kitchenette, and an old ratty sofa in the far corner. A pillow and blanket had been stacked on the cushions. It looked like an employee break room.
“What’s that sound?” Vero asked in a low voice.
“Jackson must have left a print job running. He probably won’t be gone very long.” I gestured to the boxes of paper, inks, and photo-processing chemicals on the shelves behind us. “You check the shelves. I’ll look through the cabinets.”
“While you’re in there, see if you can find anything we can use to get these cuffs off me.”
I opened the first set of cabinets, skimming quickly through the bottles of ink, canisters of coffee, and assorted office supplies.
Vero nudged aside a stack of empty buckets and used a foot to drag a box out from under the lowest shelf. She knelt beside it, using her chin to lift one of the open flaps.
“Find anything?” I asked after a few minutes of searching.
Vero laughed. “Like a bag of money or a body in a shower curtain?” She stretched out her foot to snag another box. It scraped the floor as she dragged it toward her. “Got anything sharp over there? This one’s taped shut.”
I tried a few drawers and found a box cutter. I started to shut the drawer. A key fob slid to the front of it. I felt the color drain from my face, and my mouth went dry. “Vero? What kind of car does Jackson drive?”
“Probably a beater if he’s working at a place like this. I don’t imagine it pays well. Why?”
“Because there’s a key fob for a BMW in here.”
Vero hurried to my side and peeked over my shoulder at the fob. It was attached to a leather strap with a University of Maryland Alumni logo. Vero’s voice shook as she backed away from the drawer. “Got that box cutter?”
“Uh-huh,” I said, my knuckles tightening around it.
“Let’s find that money and get out of here before we have to use that thing to stab someone.”
I hurried to the box and sliced quickly through the tape. My hands shook as I pried open the flaps.
“Nothing. Just a few reams of paper,” I said, ready to close it.
Vero nudged me aside, leaning over it for a better look. “They’re pretty small,” she said, her brow wrinkling. She wasn’t wrong. Each bound ream was only the size of a brick. “Try that one, too,” she said, jutting her chin toward the box beside it.
I sliced into the next one and froze.
“What is it?” Vero asked.
It was hard to see in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the shape of the stacks or the Benjamin Franklins staring back at us. The air felt thin. “A lot of money.”
The hum of the printer in the next room stopped abruptly. Iclosed the box, throwing a protective arm over it and gripping my box cutter as a series of beeps came from the next room.
“I thought you said Jackson was gone!” Vero hissed.
“He is,” I whispered.
“Then who’s in here with us?”
