I moved down the hall toward the back of the house, where the study was located.

The door to the study was ajar.

I pushed it open with the tip of my boot, my flashlight sweeping the room.

The leather chairs were covered in white sheets, looking like ghosts in the gloom.

The mahogany desk in the center of the room was empty.

I walked over to the built-in bookshelves on the far wall.

Some of the books had been moved, their spines misaligned.

I reached out and touched the edge of the third shelf, looking for the small brass release.

My fingers brushed against the cold metal lever hidden behind the encyclopedia volume.

There was a soft click.

The entire section of the bookshelf swung outward an inch.

Inside the dark recess, a small metal lockbox sat on a wooden shelf.

The lock on the box had already been forced open.

The lid was slightly crooked.

I reached in and pulled the box out, placing it on the desk.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I opened the lid.

Inside lay a black leather-bound book.