I pushed my hand deep into the toe of the right shoe.

My middle finger brushed against something small, flat and hard wedged into the very tip of the leather lining.

I drew a little brass key out of the toe of a dusty black pump in the closet.

I slid the cold brass into my pocket and left the closet door standing open.

At ten in the morning, the church office smelled of stale coffee.

Pastor Glenn Higgins was sitting behind his heavy oak desk.