The word stayed in my head long after the tape stopped.
Vault.
I looked at the small key on the floor.
Damiano picked it up.
There was a tiny number engraved beneath the word.
17.
“What is that?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Your father had a vault?”
“Not that I know of.”
I folded my arms.
“That’s not very reassuring.”
He gave me a tired look.
“Nothing about tonight is reassuring.”
Amelia was still staring at the photograph of Richard holding me.
“Why was he holding you?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at me.
“Maybe that’s what the vault is for.”
Damiano nodded.
“We find it.”
⸻
We returned to the mansion just before dawn.
Nobody slept.
Damiano brought out old family documents, property records, bank statements, anything that could possibly point us toward a vault.
For
