“Now you can’t leave fast enough.”
His eyes met mine.
“If you go to that bank, you will regret it.”
The door closed behind him.
The next morning, Claire, Emily, and I stood inside First County Bank.
The manager, Elena Alvarez, examined the brass key.
“Box 317 was opened under two names,” she said.
“Rachel Morgan and Claire Anne Morgan.”
Claire swallowed.
“Then I can open it?”
“If your identification matches our archived instructions.”
A man’s voice came from behind us.
“It doesn’t.”
David entered with a gray-haired woman carrying a leather folder.
“This is Margaret Vale, my attorney,” he said.
“That key was taken from my private property.”
“It was inside Claire’s envelope,” I replied.
Margaret placed a document on the desk.
“Mr.
Ellis has reported the contents of Box 317 as disputed business property.
Until ownership is decided, the box must remain sealed.”
Claire’s shoulders dropped.
“You planned this eighteen years ago,” she said to David.
“Didn’t you?”
David gave her a thin smile.
“You have no idea what happened eighteen years ago.”
Mrs.
Alvarez studied the document.
“This order was filed at eight fifteen this morning.”
Margaret closed her folder.
“Then we’re finished.”
“No,” Mrs.
Alvarez said.
“You are.”
She turned the screen on her desk toward us.
“Our records show that David Ellis attempted to access this box six years ago.
Rachel Morgan had already removed him as an authorized representative.”
David’s smile vanished.
Mrs.
Alvarez opened a drawer and took out a sealed package.
“The contents remain restricted, but this was held separately for Claire.
Mrs.
Foster witnessed the instruction.”
Margaret reached for it.
Mrs.
Alvarez pulled it back.
“It belongs to Claire.”
Claire tore open the package.
Inside was an old digital recorder and a note.
Press play where Anna can hear.
Claire pressed the button.
Static filled the office.
Then Rachel’s voice came through.
