27. Killian
We had little time, thirty minutes at best, before needing to be long gone. We had to work fast.
Thankfully, Charlie found the building plans for the suburban home, so I knew the basic layout. The modest size made us question if our suspicions were wrong, considering the home was well within her pay grade. Someone accepting bribes or being paid off normally flaunted the extra cash. However, once we checked all her assets, we knew exactly where all that dirty money went. An expensive boat and a condo in Cabo and Florida were a little above her pay grade, plus she paid in cash. It was a major red flag, pointing to her being into something shady.
The squeak from the soles of my boots against the hardwood floor echoed through the dark. Paused outside the first door, I peeked my head in, finding the room set up like a normal guest bedroom. Not what we needed and terribly decorated. The chief had no idea what theme she wanted to go with. Modern, country chic, casual, it all mixed together like a shit stew. Shaking my head, I continued down the hall, tugging Millie behind me.
At the next door, I pushed it open with a single gloved finger. Inside the room sat a large mahogany desk, two club chairs in front, and two three-drawer metal filing cabinets along the wall.
Bingo.
A quick squeeze, and I dropped Millie’s hand, stepping into the home office, knowing Millie would be right behind me. Hands on my hips, I turned in a circle, scanning the room to spot anything out of the ordinary. Any small clue that would signal where the chief would hide the files or flash drive with the electronic case files we hoped were here.
Paused in front of one filing cabinet, I clicked on the pin light and stuck the thin metal cylinder between my lips. The top drawer slid smoothly along the track, immediately telling me this unlocked and in plain view drawer wasn’t where she’d store the files. Any good blackmailer would know to at least lock the incriminating evidence away from snatching fingers like mine.
Dropped in a crouch, I tugged on the second drawer. Same results. The thin beam of light highlighted paper stuffed inside hanging folders. We didn’t have time to go through each one, so I had to trust my gut. Quietly shutting it, I tried the bottom drawer, only to have it roll open with ease.
Fuck.
Quickly shifting to the next filing cabinet, I did the same with the three drawers, only to have the same results as the other. Turning to face the room, my assessing scan paused on Millie. A corner of her lips was turned down as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“What?” I asked, sliding alongside her.
“It feels different,” she whispered and repeated the shifting motion. “Beneath my feet, this one spot gives differently than the rest of the floor. It’s solid, almost.”
Immediately, I dropped to my knees, the polished planks smooth beneath my palms. Fingers dipped beneath the ugly-as-hell multi-color geometric rug, I carefully rolled it toward the desk, revealing… more hardwood.
Pin light in hand, I leaned closer, pressing where Millie’s foot had been. There was a slight difference, firmer, as if covering a solid surface beneath instead of the open crawl space under the older home. Rough fiber scraped along my hands as I rolled the rug back even more, revealing a minuscule notch in the hardwood.
Needing both hands, I bit the small flashlight’s metal handle between my teeth and slid the lock-picking kit free. Tool in hand, I inserted the long, thin metal end into the small opening. The shadows shifted as Millie kneeled beside me. Using the flooring as leverage, I jimmied the square plank enough to wedge my fingers beneath.
Muscles straining to silently maneuver the heavy piece of removable flooring, I moved it to the side, leaning it against the edge of the desk. When I twisted back, the thin beam of light reflected off slate-gray metal. I cut my eyes to Millie and raised a hand for a high-five. She shook her head and pointed to the safe, shrugging her shoulders.
“Is this like charades?” I whispered after removing the light from my mouth. “Two words?”
“How will we get into a locked safe?”
Apparently, she wasn’t in a playful mood. Which made sense. She wasn’t used to this kind of thing, whereas I thrived in these moments. Excited energy thrummed through my veins, knowing this was an in-and-out mission. Hopefully, at least.
A soft, comforting pat on her ass made her sigh in exasperation. I turned back to the problem at hand. Unfortunately, it was a combination safe instead of one I could easily open with the lock-picking tools. We had little time remaining before the chief came back. Handing off the light to Millie, I slid my phone free and tapped Charlie’s contact, sealing the smooth screen to my ear.
“What happened?” I smirked at the worry in his tone.
“Combination safe. We only have ten minutes left in our window. Help.”
He cursed under his breath, and the sound of his fingers flying over the keyboard filled the background. While he did whatever a hacker did to uncover information, I shifted toward Millie.
“The chief needs to use some of those funds for an interior decorator. Clearly, she is horrible at it.” Sitting up a little, I scanned the top of the desk and pulled a spiral-bound calendar down. Flipping through the pages, I handed it over to Millie, along with the light. “Here, memorize each month’s entries.” Her lids widened. “Don’t give me that look. You can do it with ease, and the information might be helpful later on. I don’t want to take it from the office. She would notice that missing and realize someone was in her home.”
Taking the offered calendar, she flipped back to January and began scanning the entries.
Charlie cleared his throat. “Try her birthday. Eleven, thirteen, eighty-one.”
My fingers made quick work by spinning the dial. I gripped the handle and tugged, but it didn’t budge. “Not it. Seven minutes, Charlie.”
“Fuck, I know. Hold on, let me check if she has siblings or close parents or?—”
“Animal,” I mused, thinking back to the kitchen incident. “She has a cat.”
“Good thinking,” Charlie murmured while typing at a rapid pace. “Son of a bitch. I swear you’re a robot or something. She’s obsessed with that animal, spending more on its food than her own, plus two monthly cat subscription boxes. Okay, let’s check?—”
“Try its birthday or maybe when she adopted it.” He rattled off both dates from a random veterinary bill he pulled up. I immediately went to work spinning the dial to the first date he listed. The ticking clock inched up my anticipation with every turn. At the final number, I held a shallow breath, shot Millie a hopeful look, and tugged the handle.
The thick metal door groaned, its hinges doing little to help me lift the solid weight.
“I’m in.” The phone clattered to the floor. Eyes locked on the inside of the safe, I carefully plucked the light from Millie’s tight grip. The thin beam flickered over a tall stack of stuffed manila folders. Twisting one to read the tab, excitement bloomed. Instantly, I recognized the last name as one whom Millie suspected was murdered instead of what was reported in the public files. “Let’s go through these and?—”
The phone vibrated by my knee, the screen lighting up with a text from Hunter. Thumb to the smooth surface, I swiped it open, a muttered curse escaping after reading the urgent message.
“Time’s up, sweet cheeks. We have two minutes to put everything back in its place and get out of here, or we’re cooked.” I stared at the files. “Let’s only take a few files. Hopefully, she won’t notice them missing anytime soon. Hold out your arms.” Her small arms jutted out, and I went to work, pulling three thick files from the middle of the stack and placing them in her grasp. Shutting the safe, I replaced the square chunk of flooring and unrolled the rug back into place.
Grabbing everything we brought with us, I took the files from Millie and urged her toward the door. Just as we reached the back door, the vibrations and grinding gears from the garage door filled the kitchen. Millie glanced over her shoulder, panic clear in her dark eyes. Hand pressed to the small of her back, I shooed her out the back door, with me right on her heels. The door didn’t make a sound as I sealed it closed and picked the deadbolts back into place. Kit back in my pocket, I scooped up the files from the ground and gripped Millie’s hand.
“Stick to the shadows,” I whispered into her hair. “Pretend it’s real-life Crossy Roads, and we’re the chicken.”
Her glare was obvious despite the darkness.
With a shrug, I pointed to the side gate we came through earlier and started that way. Backs pressed to the flimsy stained wood fence, I held up a hand and waited. Each breath clouded in front of my face. Thirty tense seconds later, the light flooded the kitchen, and a shadow danced in the window. With the chief inside, I pushed open the gate and followed Millie out of the backyard, into the neighbor’s, before picking up our pace.
As we jogged back to where Hunter waited, a slow smile crept up my cheeks.
What a fun and—bonus—successful fucking night.