I walked slowly across the room, watching the light bounce off the wide pine floorboards.

Near the center of the hearth, one of the floorboards looked slightly uneven.

It did not sit flush with the others, leaving a tiny gap.

I knelt down on the cold floor, placing my father’s logbook beside me.

I touched the edge of the wood.

It was loose.

I pressed my weight onto the far end of the board.

The opposite side tipped upward like a seesaw, revealing a dark space underneath.

I shone my flashlight into the gap.

Deep within the floor joists sat the corner of a heavy metal security box.

My heart began to beat faster in the quiet room.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaked loudly behind me.

I froze.

The cold night wind rushed inside, blowing the dust around my boots.

A shadow stretched across the threshold of the open door.

My fingers slipped toward my holster.

I slowly rose from my knees, keeping my weight distributed evenly to avoid making a sound.

My tactical light remained pointed at the floor, throwing long, distorted shadows up the wooden walls.