Chapter 6 - The Midnight Break-In
The Dalton Feed and Grain supply store loomed against the midnight sky like a rusted fortress. The main street of Stillwater was completely deserted, streetlights flickering lazily in the damp night air. I parked my truck three blocks away, cutting the headlights before I rolled to a stop along the shadowed perimeter of the grain silos.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Uncle Ray had been right. A single dim light burned in the second-floor office window—Vivian’s private domain. Silhouette shadows moved across the frosted glass. Someone was still up, sorting through files, frantically preparing for the legal storm bearing down on them.
I kept low, skirting the edge of the large metal warehouse buildings until I reached the side loading dock. The heavy wooden service door was usually locked, but during my childhood summers helping out around the store, my father had shown me a rusted trick latch on the hinge that could be jimmied with a flathead screwdriver if the deadbolt wasn't thrown.
I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a multi-tool I always carried on tour. My fingers were cold, trembling slightly as I slid the flat blade into the gap of the doorframe.
*Click.*
The latch gave way with a soft, metallic groan. I slipped inside into the pitch-black interior, the familiar scent of cedar shavings, burlap sacks, and motor oil washing over me. It smelled of childhood memories tainted by decades of psychological tyranny.
Using the pale beam of light from my phone, I navigated past pallets of livestock feed until I reached the rear corridor leading to the basement office. Every floorboard creaked beneath my boots, sounding to my hyper-sensitive ears like gunshots in the dead of night.
"Who's down there?"
A sharp, raspy voice echoed down the stairwell.
My breath caught in my throat. It wasn't Vivian. It was Caroline.
"Mom! Someone's in the warehouse!" Caroline yelled, her footsteps pounding down the wooden stairs toward the back corridor.
Panic surged through my veins. I bolted down the final stretch of the hallway, throwing myself against the back storage room door. I found the corrugated metal paneling Uncle Ray had described, shoved my fingers into the rusted seam, and ripped it backward.
Behind the panel sat a heavy, fireproof metal lockbox covered in dust.
Footsteps rounded the corner just ten feet away.
"I know you're in here, Mara!" Caroline shrieked, flipping the heavy wall switch.
Overhead fluorescent lights buzzed to life, casting a harsh, blinding glare across the storage room. I grabbed the heavy lockbox from the wall cavity just as Caroline lunged into the doorway, her eyes wide with rage.
"Give me that!" Caroline screamed, diving forward and grabbing the handle of the metal box.
We wrestled in the narrow aisle, the heavy steel banging against the shelving units. Caroline was younger and stronger than she looked, fueled by the desperate adrenaline of protecting her mother's secrets. She managed to wrench the box halfway out of my grip, her fingernails clawing fiercely at my wrist.
"You're ruining everything!" Caroline sobbed hysterically. "You always ruin everything!"
"Let go, Caroline!" I yelled, planting my boot against the shelving unit and giving a violent, desperate shove.
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Caroline lost her footing, tumbling backward into a towering stack of empty burlap sacks. The entire stack collapsed on top of her in a cloud of dust.
I didn't hesitate. I grabbed the lockbox, turned on my heel, and sprinted out the loading dock door into the cool night air, the heavy metal box clutched tightly against my chest.
