“If your uncle Patrick shows up after I’m gone, don’t let him anywhere near the navy storage tin,” she whispered urgently.

I blinked, confused, thrown by the sudden mention of a relative I hardly ever saw.

“Uncle Patrick from the bank?” I asked, trying to connect the pieces.

“Swear to me you’ll guard that tin box,” she insisted, her breath coming shallow and quick.

“What could Patrick possibly have to do with Lucas living in our alley?” I asked, baffled.

Her grip tightened with startling desperation as raw panic filled her eyes.

“Patrick will wipe out every trace of him if he finds that tin,” she gasped, her chest heaving.