The line went silent for a moment, save for the muffled voice of a flight attendant over a loudspeaker.

“He’s going to blame me for everything,” she said. “But I have the key.”

“Where is the key, Sloane?” I asked.

The elevator dinged, reaching the lobby.

“I taped it under the bench in the lobby of your building,” Sloane said.

Her voice was breathless, almost drowned out by a flight announcement in the background.

“I left it there an hour ago,” she added. “Please, Cassandra. Don’t let him drag me down with him.”

She hung up before I could reply.

The line went dead, leaving only the hum of the elevator fan.

I stepped out into the quiet lobby of my building.

The security guard on duty nodded to me as I passed.

I walked over to the wooden bench near the elevators.

I knelt down, pretending to adjust the strap on my heel.

My fingers brushed against the rough underside of the wood.

I felt a small piece of duct tape.

I pulled it free, feeling the cold weight of a small, brass key in my palm.