I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and shook my head. “I don’t know what’s going on around here with couples, but it better not be contagious.”
“Don’t worry,” Ian said firmly, his hand taking hold of mine. “We’re immune.”
CHAPTER 6
The attic was cool thanks to the air conditioning humming softly, a welcome break from the late-August heat pressing down on Willow Lake. My desk sat beneath one of two large windows at either end of the attic, where William Strathmore had suggested it go when Strathmore Builders transformed this space into my office. The view out the window helped calm my racing mind, a wide sweep of branches heavy with lush green leaves that in a few weeks would start to turn.
Ian was at the Lodge, busy with photo shoots and whatever business magic kept Macgregor & Co. Publishing Arts running smoothly and flourishing. I had my own kind of work to do, blogs for my website.
It wasn’t just about prepping for me; it was about living prepared without feeling paranoid. I enjoyed sharing tips that made people smile while slipping in the kind that could actually help if life went sideways.
Today’s post was titled:Pantry Power: How to Stretch What You’ve Got Without Feeling Like You’re Eating the Same Thing Twice.
I’d just started it.
There’s a fine line between being prepared and feeling like you’re on a leftover loop. The trick is rotation and reinvention. Those five cans of black beans you forgot in the back of the pantry? Turn them into three different meals. A hearty chili,bean burgers, and a three-bean salad. Ian approves of all three.
I smiled, rereading that line. My readers loved it when I included him in my posts. Ian, the eager taste-tester of all things prepper.
But as I scrolled down to start the next paragraph, my fingers hovered over the keys. My mind wasn’t on beans.
It was on the bank heist.
No matter how many times I tried to shake it, the memory kept creeping back; the sound of alarms, the sight of people struck with fear, then relief, and the look on Marie’s face when we helped calm her down.
And the words Stone had said when he showed up afterward.They’re looking for something specific.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the barely started blog post on the screen. Maybe it was the prepper in me, or maybe it was the part of me that couldn’t leave a mystery unsolved, but I knew one thing: whoever those robbers were, they hadn’t finished their search.
I leaned back in my chair, glancing out the window, and gave thought to the bank robbers.
Ian and I had agreed on one thing right away, those men didn’t seem like professionals. Real professionals would never have let the hostages keep their phones. Real professionals kept their cool, and these men had been anxious, their nerves showing in every sharp movement.
And the biggest tell of all?
A seasoned crew would have questioned Marie differently.
If they were truly hunting something in those safety deposit boxes, they would have demanded to know if anyone there had emptied a box recently, pointed to the customers and asked, “Did one of them come in for a box?”
But they hadn’t.
They hadn’t acted like men with a solid plan. They’d acted like men guessing in the dark. Yet… they were still robbing different banks.
Which left me with one question that refused to leave me alone. What was so important in one of those safety deposit boxes that these men were willing to take such reckless chances to find it?
That nagging question had me doing what any curious prepper with a strong Wi-Fi signal would do, a search for what people kept in safety deposit boxes. The obvious came up first: birth certificates, wills, deeds, jewelry, passports, rare coins, and those old family papers no one wants to leave lying around the house. Some people stored heirloom rings or their grandmother’s wedding bracelet, others tucked away insurance policies, photos, or important tax records. A few articles even mentioned folks keeping sentimental treasures there—love letters, antique lockets, things they couldn’t bear to lose and wanted guarded behind steel and concrete.
But then, naturally, I wondered the opposite—what shouldn’t be kept in a safety deposit box?
That list surprised me even more. Anything you might need in an emergency was a definite no. No power of attorney documents or medical directives. Cash wasn’t ideal either, given insurance limits. Firearms and anything illegal were obviously out. And several experts warned against storing originals of certain documents that banks might block access to during holidays, emergencies, or—ironically—federal investigations.
I sat back and tapped my finger on my glass of peach iced tea, the ice clinking quietly. Just because something shouldn’t be stashed in a safety deposit box, or was downright prohibited, didn’t mean people didn’t do it anyway. Human nature guaranteed that rules only applied to everyone else.
And that opened any number of questions.
People hide things for reasons, sometimes foolish, sometimes desperate, sometimes dangerous. It wasn’t always jewelry or paperwork tucked behind steel and a lock. Sometimes it was something no one else was supposed to find.
But documents raised their own questions too.
