Chapter 2: The Key to the Past

Callie didn’t sleep a wink that night, pacing the floor while Geneva breathed slowly in the chair she’d turned into a bed.

She spent hours searching the internet, going through every scrap of paper in the suitcase, and examining every piece of clothing for clues.

She found no property deeds, no hidden stacks of cash, no important receipts—only wrinkled dresses, a tarnished medal, and a torn holy card.

“The key sleeps with the broken saint,” she repeated to herself, holding the card up to the kitchen light to see if anything was hidden inside.

The little card looked entirely ordinary, but when she carefully peeled back the cardboard backing, she noticed a small, folded piece of paper.

It wasn’t a key. It was a receipt from a bank branch downtown, with a short phrase written in shaky, frantic handwriting: “Silver Bell.”