Chapter 3 - The Key I Never Knew I Had

Vanessa was alive.

She had been struck behind the ear and briefly lost consciousness.

The police arrived within minutes.

Detective Rachel Monroe took control of the house.

The message on the mirror changed everything.

This was no longer a wealthy woman making a cruel accusation against a maid.

Someone else was inside the mansion.

Someone willing to attack Vanessa while twenty people stood only yards away.

Detective Monroe questioned me in the library.

“Do you own a key Vanessa might have been talking about?”

“No.”

“Think carefully.”

I did.

Then I remembered my husband.

Samuel had worked for Harrington Properties before his death.

He had been an accountant.

Not an important one.

At least that was what I had always believed.

Three nights before the car crash that killed him, Samuel had come home carrying an old brass key.

He had placed it in our kitchen drawer.

“What’s that for?”

“Nothing important.”

Two days later, the key disappeared.

After his funeral, I assumed he had taken it with him.

Detective Monroe leaned forward.

“Your husband died in a car accident?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“September 14, 2019.”

Her expression changed.

“Stay here.”

She returned twenty minutes later carrying a tablet.

Samuel’s accident report was displayed on the screen.

The report said his brakes had failed on the Taconic State Parkway.

I had read it dozens of times.

Then Monroe enlarged a section I had never noticed.

Investigating insurance company.

Harrington Risk Management.

I felt cold.

“Why would the Harringtons investigate my husband’s crash?”

“Because the vehicle was registered to one of their subsidiary companies.”

I stared at her.

Samuel had told me he bought that car himself.

I went home with two detectives shortly before sunrise.

My apartment looked normal.

Until I opened the kitchen drawer.

The old wooden divider Samuel had built was slightly crooked.

I pulled it out.

Something clicked beneath it.

A thin compartment opened.

Inside was the brass key.

Beside it sat a folded note.

My hands shook as I recognized Samuel’s handwriting.

Grace.

If you ever find this, it means I was right not to trust them.

The key opens Box 317.

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Do not give it to the Harringtons.

And whatever they tell you, my accident was not an accident.