THE MESSAGE FROM THE GRAVE

Luca snatched the bloody piece of parchment from the table.

He stared at it, his brow furrowing in deep confusion.

“This isn't a federal informant file,” Luca muttered, turning the torn paper over. “This is a banking ledger.”

Rachel stepped closer, looking at the scrap. “What does it say?”

“It has a routing number,” Luca said. “And my name. But the rest of the document is torn off. Dominic must have ripped it in a hurry and left this piece in her bag when they ran.”

Answer one: The proof Michael hid in his jacket wasn't the photograph of the murder. It was financial.

“Vanessa,” Luca grabbed his fiancée by her torn dress, pulling her to her feet. “What did Dominic actually take from the jacket?”

“I don't know!” Vanessa screamed. “He said it was the keys to the kingdom! He said Michael had secretly transferred the entire syndicate’s legitimate assets into a blind trust before he died to keep them away from him!”

Open two: Who is the beneficiary of the blind trust? And where is the rest of the document?

Suddenly, the lights in the mansion flickered.

Then they went out completely.

Pitch black.

The backup generators didn't kick in. The hum of the air conditioning died.

“They cut the main power line!” the head of security shouted in the dark.

A heavy silence fell over the house, followed by the terrifying sound of shattering glass from the front foyer.

Dominic hadn't run away. He had come back with heavily armed reinforcements to finish the job and retrieve the last piece of the document.

“Protect Rachel and the boy!” Luca roared over the chaos.

Gunfire lit up the darkness in rapid, blinding flashes.

“Emma!” Rachel yelled, grabbing my arm in the dark. “Where do we go?”

I knew this house better than anyone. I cleaned every inch of it. I knew the blind spots.

“The wine cellar,” I whispered, grabbing Ben’s hand. “There’s a reinforced steel door behind the vintage racks. Follow me.”

We crawled on our hands and knees over broken glass and overturned tables. The sound of tactical boots echoed on the marble floors above us.

We reached the kitchen. I felt along the wall until my fingers found the hidden latch I used to access the deep storage.

I pushed the heavy door open.

We slipped inside the freezing, pitch-black cellar. I pulled the heavy steel door shut and locked it from the inside just as the kitchen doors burst open behind us.

We sat in the dark, breathing heavily. Ben was crying softly into his mother’s chest.

“It’s okay, baby,” Rachel rocked him. “Uncle Luca will stop them.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my small flashlight. I clicked it on, casting a dim beam across the dusty wine racks.

As the light swept across the floor, it hit something strange sitting on an old wooden barrel.

It was an old, rusted metal lockbox.