I pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders and ran toward my car.

The drive to Elmwood Terrace took fifteen minutes through the heavy afternoon traffic.

The cottage looked small and abandoned, the garden overgrown with weeds and wet leaves.

I unlocked the front door, the key turning with a heavy, metallic click.

The air inside was cold and smelled of dust and old lavender.

I walked straight to the master bedroom in the back.

The room was stripped of most of its furniture, leaving only the bare mattress and a few empty bookshelves.

I went into the closet, pushing aside the few old coats that still hung on the rack.

I knelt on the floor, running my fingers along the seam of the wooden floorboards.

Near the back corner, one of the boards felt loose.

I pried it up with my fingernails.

Beneath the wood, set into the concrete foundation, was the dark gray face of a steel safe.

A digital keypad glowed faintly when I touched it, a red light blinking in the dim closet.

I did not know the code.