I stared at the glowing blue keypad, my heart thumping against my ribs.

I didn’t know the code.

But as I looked closer, I saw a small piece of paper wedged in the hinge of the safe’s door.

It was a folded note, written in elegant, old-fashioned script.

I reached out and pulled it free.

Before I could unfold it, I heard the heavy sound of footsteps in the hallway.

They were coming toward the room.

The brass doorknob began to turn.

I dove into the dark wardrobe.

My back pressed against the loose wooden panel, right next to the glowing blue keypad of the safe.

I pulled the heavy oak doors shut, leaving only a fraction of an inch open.

The scent of cedar, mothballs, and dry lavender choked my throat.

I squeezed the small piece of paper tightly in my fist.

The bedroom door creaked open.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps crossed the hardwood floor.

Through the narrow crack in the wardrobe doors, I saw the hem of a black skirt.

It was Mrs. Higgins.

She stopped in the middle of the room, her breathing heavy and wet.