For several seconds after I stepped through the front door, the entire house seemed to stop breathing.

I took a slow, deep breath, forcing my hands to stop shaking. If Margaret was working with an attorney—somebody named Richard—I couldn't just barge in and start screaming. I needed proof. I needed whatever she had hidden in that locked nightstand.

Through the door, I heard Margaret’s heels pacing the hardwood. "I'm going out to the back patio to get better cell reception. Don't file anything until I text you the confirmation code."

The sound of the French doors leading from her bedroom to the private patio clicked open.

I stepped back around the corner, pressing myself flat against the linen closet wall.

A moment later, Margaret stepped out into the backyard, phone pressed tightly to her ear, her back turned to the house as she paced alongside the rose bushes.

This was my window.

I slipped quietly into her bedroom.

The room smelled heavily of lavender perfume and expensive cosmetics. The bed was meticulously made, not a single wrinkle on the satin duvet. On the far side of the king bed stood the heavy mahogany nightstand Emily had described.

I crossed the carpet and tried the bottom drawer handle.

It was firmly locked. The brass keyhole sat mocking me in the center of the carved wood.

I looked around the room. Margaret was a creature of habit; she never carried keys in her pockets unless she was driving, and her purse was sitting on the vanity table across the room.

I moved to the vanity. Her designer leather handbag was unzipped. I reached inside, my fingers sifting through lipstick tubes, compact powder, and mints until they brushed against a small, ornate brass ring holding two miniature keys.

One was for her jewelry armoire. The other was tiny, flat, and notched.

Grabbing the brass key, I hurried back to the nightstand.

Outside the glass patio door, Margaret had her back to me, gesturing animatedly with her free hand as she argued with whoever was on the line.

I knelt on the floor, slid the key into the lock, and turned it.

A crisp, metallic *click* broke the silence.