Although the tiny red light indicates it is connected to a power source, nothing happens except for a faint click so subtle that even a sigh could have drowned it out. The screen lights up and asks for a password, and instinctively I look toward the Bible lying on the desk.
“Solomon.”
I type the single word using the remote, and the panel quietly slides open like a garage door, revealing the safe. It never changed places—he simply hid it behind his madness.
The problem is that I am part of his insanity.
The safe’s password is a greater risk. If I fail, my father will probably be alerted to the intrusion. I memorize the pattern and need to determine whether the sequence is alphanumeric and whether it is possible to descend even deeper into Dante’s mind. I place a listening device nearby
