Arthur slid the long steel drawer out of its slot and set it on a small metal table in the middle of the vault.

“I’ll give you some privacy while you put your items inside,” Arthur said, stepping back toward the heavy vault door.

I took the clear plastic sleeve out of my purse.

Inside, the two-dollar ticket lay flat, its green scratch coating scraped clean down to the matching row of numbers.

I laid it on the cold metal bottom of the inner box.

“Will anyone else have access to this box without my signature?” I asked over my shoulder.