“Here,” she lowers them to the floor. “For all his computers and shit. If they get damaged, he’ll damage us.”
A snort comes from Blair. She turns to look at Aria with amusement and starts putting Hudson’s computer, work phone, and all of the weapons she can find inside the office. Aria starts helping out, too, and we spend the next while working diligently in silence.
I try to shove all the thoughts to the back of my head, because my primary focus right now is trying to get rid of all the evidence against us. Four boxes and twelve filled trash bags later, we’re nearly done.
Aria bends down under Dad’s desk and groans. “His safe is locked.”
“Unlock it, then.”
She peeks her head up and glares at me. “Do I look like someone who knows the password?”
I groan, then walk over to the desk, sitting on the floor next to her. I’ve never paid much attention to the safe, but now when I’m clearly looking at it, it’s one of those that’s been built to explode if the password is entered wrongly three times.
“It’s either my birthday or Mom’s.”
I roll my eyes. “Try it, then.”
“We could always just take it with us without opening,’’ Blair offers.
“It’s bolted to the ground.” Aria responds, then types in her birthday as the password. It’s the wrong one, and I can’t helpbut smirk that daddy’s girl isn’t his password.
Aria scowls at me, but the second attempt at opening the safe is successful. It’s Mom’s birthday, and the door opens. Aria immediately pulls out all the contents of the safe, which include his emergency stash of cash—roughly half a million in one hundred dollar bills—and a gun, but there are also just some papers.
“Oh, I’m taking that,” Aria mutters, reaching for the money, and I swat her hand away. “What?” She asks, feigning innocence.
“Don’t even think about it. This money is probably unaccounted for, and we need it right now. Bank withdrawals will alert the cops.”
“Fiine,” she groans.
She’s trying to act unaffected by the entire situation, but I know better than that. She’s trying to joke around, something she does often when she’s under a lot of stress and doesn’t want anyone knowing. She should be resting right now, trying to focus on improving her mental health.
Instead, she’s stuck in here with Blair and me, doing things she shouldn’t be doing.
“Didn’t I tell you to start with Mom’s office?”
“Yeah, but I needed help,” she sighs, grabbing the papers and gun that were previously in the safe, then shoving them in the closest box. “It’s mainly her weapons. You know how particular she is about those; if any is missing or damaged when she wakes up, I doubt you and I will live to see another day.”
“Fine, let’s tackle that down.”
It takes the three of us at least forty minutes to go through Mom’s office. Blair’s in charge of carefully wrapping up all of theknives, daggers, and even the machete Mom has. Aria’s the one that’s packing them carefully in a box, trying to make them fit nicely, without damaging them. I, on the other hand, am focusing on grabbing all of the things Mom has lying around.
From family photos and some old drawings that Aria and I did for her back when we were kids to our graduation images and framed photos of family outings that date from when I was an only child to two years ago, when we stopped taking them altogether.
“Arlo,” Blair's voice snaps me out of the small trance. “You should start taking the boxes and bags into the basement. They will be here soon.”
I glance down at my wristwatch and notice that it’s been over an hour since we started sorting out the offices. With a stiff nod, I open the small door behind Mom’s desk, and Blair’s jaw drops open when she spots a mini elevator.
“Has that always been in here?”
I nod. “Mom finds it easier to go to the basement. I just think she’s lazy.”
“Well, that makes it easier to take everything down,” Blair sighs.
Aria squeezes her way into the small elevator, the door closing behind her. I’m left alone with Blair, and she steps forward, resting her cheek against my shoulder. We’re standing in Mom’s mostly empty office, in utter and complete silence.
It’s never been this empty. Where Dad’s office was strictly off-limits unless he allowed Aria and me in, Mom liked having us inside. When we were kids, we’d play hide-and-seek in here, and often, we’d have our nighttime tea on the couch while Mom worked. It was easy back then. It was peaceful.
My mind overflows with all the memories. The pang in my chest spreads through my body, the thought of Mom being all alone in the hospital and Dad being in jail and most likely going out of his mind. I’m just praying he doesn’t do anything stupid just yet.He needs to sit still and wait for us to figure out a way to get him out safely.
