Chapter 3 - THE KEY IN MY MOTHER'S COAT
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because Ravenwood was dangerous.
Because my mother had lied to me for thirty-four years.
At 2:13 in the morning, I sat on the edge of the enormous bed Roman had given me and examined the red coat.
The lining was torn near the left pocket.
I had repaired that coat twice.
But one seam looked different.
Newer.
Thicker.
My hands started shaking.
I found scissors in the bathroom and carefully opened it.
Something metal dropped onto the floor.
A brass key.
I stared at it.
My mother had hidden a key inside her coat.
A key I had been wearing while sleeping in bus stations.
There was a number engraved across it.
At breakfast, I said nothing.
Instead, I watched.
The giant from yesterday introduced himself as Benny Russo.
He weighed approximately as much as a refrigerator and apparently possessed the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old.
“More biscuits, Maggie?”
“You’ve eaten six.”
“I’m growing.”
“You’re forty-two.”
“Late growth spurt.”
I gave him another biscuit.
By noon, the men had stopped calling me “the homeless chef.”
By dinner, three had asked me for recipes.
By nine, Benny had voluntarily washed a pan.
Miracles were happening.
But Roman noticed I was distracted.
He found me in the pantry.
“You found something.”
I froze.
“That wasn’t a question.”
“No.”
His gaze moved toward my pocket.
I hated how observant he was.
I pulled out the brass key.
Roman stopped breathing.
“You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
“What does seventeen mean?”
He looked toward the back wall of the pantry.
Then he moved three shelving units aside.
Behind them was an old wooden door I’d assumed was decorative.
Seventeen had been carved into the frame.
The key turned perfectly.
Behind the door was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Vincent appeared behind us.
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at him.
“Good talk.”
Then I grabbed a flashlight and started downward.
The staircase ended in a tiny underground room.
Dust covered everything.
An old table.
Metal shelves.
A wooden recipe box.
And one yellow envelope.
My name was written across it.
MAGGIE.
I recognized my mother’s handwriting immediately.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Inside was one page.
If you are reading this, sweetheart, Roman found you.
That means I failed to keep Ravenwood buried.
Trust Roman with your life.
But do not trust everyone who stands beside him.
I looked up.
May you like
Vincent was standing directly behind Roman.
And for the first time since I arrived, Vincent looked afraid.
