Claire sat back on her heels, staring at the two keys laid out in her palm. “What are you trying to tell me, Dad?” she whispered. She turned back to the rest of the cellar. Something nagged at her—the feeling that this wasn’t random. Her father had planned this. He had arranged it.
Then her eyes landed on a crooked pile of trash bags pushed up against the far wall. She hadn’t touched those yet. Dragging them aside, she uncovered something strange: a wooden cabinet pushed into the wall, but there was a gap behind it. Claire wedged her shoulder against the cabinet and shoved. It scraped loudly across the concrete floor, revealing a hollow space.