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“Good.”

Behind us, Trigger whispered, “Googly eyes.”

I didn’t turn around.

Neither did Mace.

Collins opened a steel security gate at the end of the corridor.

The old vault door stood beyond it.

Thick.

Round.

Massive.

The wheel had been left unlocked when the bank closed.

Carson pulled the heavy door open.

Rows of safe-deposit boxes lined three walls.

Most stood empty.

Some remained closed.

Mace released my hand only when I stepped toward them.

Sheriff Tate examined the key through the evidence bag.

“No number.”

“There may have been a separate tag,” I said.

“Or Emily hid the number somewhere else.”

Doris glanced at the rows.

“There are hundreds.”

Mabel groaned.

“I should’ve brought sandwiches.”

“You brought cookies,” Nora said.

“That was before I knew there would be stairs.”

Carson moved toward an old metal desk.

“Bank records should be in these drawers.”

He tugged one open.

Ledgers filled the cabinet.

Alphabetical.