“You think something is hidden inside it,” Roman said.

“I know his patterns,” I said. “He always kept his most valuable assets disguised as worthless junk.”

Roman looked at the dashboard clock, then at the rear-view mirror.

“Where is the house?” he asked.

“In the northern suburbs,” I said. “Near the lake.”

Roman didn’t hesitate.

He turned the steering wheel hard to the left, taking a narrow side street that bypassed the highway.

“We go there first,” he said.

“But the text message warned us,” I said, my heart starting to beat faster.

“They think we are going to your father’s downtown office,” Roman said. “That is where my men are currently stationed.”

He accelerated down the dark avenue, the engine humming loudly.

The city of Chicago blurred past us in shades of grey, black, and orange.

The rain began to fall harder, turning into sleet as it hit the cold glass.

I pulled Roman’s heavy wool coat tighter around my shoulders, breathing in the scent of pine and leather.

“If they get to the house first, they will burn it,” I said.