Chapter 6
The sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the backyard into deep twilight as Leo crept silently toward the side of the house. Buster followed closely behind, moving with a silent, feline grace that belied his massive size. They reached the basement window, which was partially hidden behind a rotting lattice screen overrun by dead ivy. Leo crouched down in the snow, ignoring the freezing moisture soaking through his trousers, and peered through the narrow gap into the pitch-black interior of the cellar. The air drifting up from the opening smelled damp, metallic, and distinctly different from the usual musty scent of old storage—it smelled faintly of fresh paper and iron.
Reaching through the loose plastic sheeting, Leo felt around the wooden frame until his fingers brushed against the rusted latch, pushing it gently until the window swung inward with a faint squeak. He held his breath, listening intently for any sound from inside the main house, but only the low hum of the refrigerator could be heard through the floorboards above. Without hesitating, Leo lowered himself headfirst through the narrow opening, dropping softly onto the dusty concrete floor of the basement below. A moment later, Buster squeezed his large frame through the surprisingly accommodating window, landing with a soft thud beside the boy in the dark.
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Leo reached into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic keychain flashlight he had pocketed from the kitchen drawer earlier that day. He clicked it on, casting a weak, yellow beam across the cluttered cellar space. Shelves lined with canned goods and old preserves stretched along the damp stone walls, but past the central support pillar lay an area Leo had never seen before. A heavy metal filing cabinet stood against the far wall, flanked by stacked cardboard boxes labeled with dates from several years ago. As they approached, the beam of light caught something glinting on the concrete floor near the cabinet—a small brass key with a distinctive red rubber tag.
Leo picked up the key, turning it over in his hand. It was identical to the one his father always kept on his keyring—the key to the old floor safe hidden in the study upstairs, a safe Evelyn claimed had been empty when the estate was settled. A cold realization washed over the boy. If the key was down here, hidden in the basement Evelyn forbade him from entering, then everything she had told him about his father’s final wishes and their financial situation was a carefully constructed lie. Buster let out a low growl, his ears flattening against his skull as a faint noise echoed from the top of the cellar stairs—the slow, deliberate creak of footsteps descending into the dark.
