I clutched the key tight in my palm.

“The painting,” he said. “Do it now.”

I slipped out of the study and hurried down the dimly lit hallway.

The thick carpet muffled my footsteps.

Behind me, I heard the heavy front door open downstairs.

Ethan’s voice drifted up, tense and controlled.

“Dr. Vance,” Ethan said. “This is unexpected.”

“I needed to see you, Ethan,” Vance’s voice replied, wet and heavy.

I reached the nursery door and turned the brass knob.

The room was dark, smelling faintly of lavender and unused linen.

The four empty cribs stood like small wooden cages in the shadows.

I walked to the wall where the painting of the harbor hung.

My fingers found the edge of the heavy gold frame.

I pulled it aside, revealing the cold steel face of the safe.

I inserted the key Ethan had given me.

The lock turned with a heavy, metallic click.

I opened the small door, pushed the folder inside, and shut it.

I locked it again and slid the key deep into my pocket.

I swung the painting back into place.