Chapter 4 - THE BLUE COAT
"Give that back to me," I said.
My voice didn't shake.
The fear had vanished, replaced by a sudden, protective fury.
Vice Principal Davis chuckled. It was a cold, ugly sound.
"I confiscated a prohibited item from your locker, Emma," he said smoothly. "School policy dictates that valuables not required for academics can be held by administration."
"A pocket watch isn't prohibited," Olivia shot back, stepping up beside me.
Davis glared at her. "Careful, Olivia. Your father wouldn't want you associating with a troubled girl who disrupts the cafeteria."
He was enjoying this.
He was holding the last piece of my father, using it as a weapon.
"You stole it because Mr. Harper told you to," I said. "What did he promise you? A promotion? A bonus?"
Davis's smile faded. His eyes went dark.
"Go back to class, girls," he warned. "Before I expel both of you."
He turned and walked out, the silver chain disappearing into his pocket.
I tried to follow him, but Olivia grabbed my arm.
"Don't," she whispered. "He'll lock it in his desk. We can't get it right now. You need to go home."
"I'm not leaving without it."
"Emma, listen to me!" Olivia said, her grip tightening. "My dad is looking for the original patent. If he had Davis steal the watch, he thinks the key to the safety deposit box is inside it."
I frowned. "What key?"
"My dad was screaming on the phone this morning. He said your dad hid a key inside the watch casing. A tiny brass key."
I felt a sudden chill run down my spine.
I had polished that watch every week for ten years.
I knew every scratch. Every groove.
There was no key inside it.
"Olivia," I whispered. "There is no key in the watch."
She stared at me. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. If there was a key, my dad didn't put it in the watch."
A terrible realization hit me.
When my dad died, the hospital handed my mother his personal effects in a clear plastic bag.
The watch had been in that bag.
But so had his winter jacket.
"My mom," I said, my heart hammering. "She went through his things before she gave the watch to me."
I didn't wait for the bell to ring.
I ran out of the school and sprinted the six blocks to my house.
My mom was at work. She was a receptionist at a dental clinic, working long hours just to keep our tiny house.
I burst through the front door.
I ran to the hall closet and pulled open the heavy wooden door.
Hanging in the back, wrapped in a dry-cleaning bag, was my dad's old blue winter coat.
My mom could never bring herself to throw it away.
I tore the plastic off.
I checked the front pockets. Empty.
I checked the chest pocket. A stale peppermint wrapper.
I ran my hands along the heavy wool lining.
Nothing.
I slumped against the wall, defeated.
Maybe Olivia's dad was wrong. Maybe there was no key.
I looked at the blue coat hanging limply on the hanger.
Then I noticed a small tear in the inner seam near the bottom hem.
It looked like it had been sliced open with a razor blade.
I reached my fingers inside the lining.
Deep inside the fabric, resting near the hemline, was a hard, cold object.
I pulled it out.
It wasn't a key.
It was a small, tightly rolled strip of microfilm.
May you like
And wrapped around it was a handwritten note from my mother.
If they come looking, do not trust Marcus Harper. And never trust the bank.
