I looked at Charles, whose eyes were darting from the safe to his sister.

“You were upstairs,” I said to him, taking a step forward. “You heard him talk about this. Did you take it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charles said, his voice cracking slightly.

“You’ve been searching this house for three days, Charles,” I said. “You and Victoria both. Did you find the key to this safe?”

“If I had the key, do you think I’d still be ripping drawers out of his desk?” Charles shouted, his hands twitching at his sides.

“He’s telling the truth, you idiot,” Victoria snapped at her brother, though her eyes never left the safe. “If he had it, he would have opened this already and taken whatever was inside.”

She stepped closer to me, her expensive perfume choking the dry air.

“But you,” Victoria said, her eyes narrowing into slits. “He would have given it to you. Or told you where it was.”

“He didn’t give me a key,” I said, and for once, I wasn’t lying to her.

My mind raced back through the last weeks of Garrett’s life.