“We are heading to the property now to secure the evidence.”

“I am coming with you,” I said.

“You should wait down the street,” the detective said.

“I need to show you exactly where the suitcase is hidden,” I insisted.

We drove to the condo complex in separate cars.

The palm trees swayed in the bright morning breeze.

The sun was blindingly hot against the concrete stairs as we walked up to my front door.

Detective Miller drew his weapon and knocked loudly on the wood.

“Police! Search warrant!” he called out.

There was no sound from inside.

He knocked again, harder this time, the metal of his ring clicking against the peephole.

The silence from the other side of the door was absolute.

Detective Miller nodded to the second officer, a young man with a crowbar.

“Key,” I whispered, reaching into my purse with trembling fingers.

The leather of my bag felt hot and damp from my sweat.

I handed the brass key to Miller.

He slid it into the deadbolt and turned it slowly.

The lock clicked open with a heavy, metallic sound.