I waited until his footsteps died away on the concrete path, then slipped off the security chain and turned the deadbolt.

I picked the papers up off the rug, went into the little back bedroom, and dragged my metal storage trunk out of the dark corner of the closet.

I raised the heavy lid, felt under my folded wool winter blankets, and drew out the small cardboard shoebox hidden in the back corner.

Inside sat the spare metal key to my Buick, exactly where I had hidden it three months earlier when Daniel took the main set out of my purse.

I held the cool key in my palm for a moment, then laid it on top of the dresser next to my pocketbook.