“Of course it didn’t,” Caroline said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “That box was just a decoy to fool Marcus if he ever broke in.”

She pointed to the far wall of the gatehouse, behind the heavy iron coal stove.

“The real safe is there,” she said.

I walked over to the stove, the dust rising around my boots.

The wall behind the stove was lined with dark wooden paneling.

I ran my hand along the wood until I felt a seam.

I pushed against the panel, and it swung inward with a dry creak.

Behind it was a small, heavy iron door with a brass keyhole.

I took the large brass key from my pocket.

It fit into the lock perfectly.

I turned the key, and the heavy tumblers clicked into place with a deep, metallic thunk.

I pulled the iron door open.

Inside the wall safe was another stack of documents, tied with faded red ribbon.

I pulled the papers out and set them on the dusty table next to the broken lockbox.

My flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the top document.