Tucked into the narrow pocket was a small yellow carbon receipt clipped to a brass key stamped with the number 408.

The printed heading across the top of the receipt said First National Bank Downtown Safe Deposit Division.

It was the key to safe deposit box 408, the very brass key I’d felt hidden in the lining of the heavy winter coat three nights earlier.

Zane shoved the watch into his coat pocket and smoothed the fabric down with his palm.

My father tapped his pipe on his palm, cleared his throat and took one slow step toward Zane.