Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
I opened the door an inch and felt the rush of cold harbor salt air against my neck. The lock was not broken. There were no wood shavings on the threshold, no pry marks on the brass plate.
I locked the door, turning the thumb-turn until it clicked, and walked back toward the front foyer.
The security keypad beside the coat closet glowed with a steady green light. My fingers were cold as I pressed the menu buttons to access the system log. The small digital screen flickered, scrolling through the dates and times.
The system had been deactivated at thirteen minutes past two in the morning.
I pressed the status button to display the specific user code. The screen blinked once, then displayed three words: Key Card Four.
My hand went to my collarbone, my spine straightening against the wall.
I picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Avery’s direct line again. He picked up before the first ring completed, his breathing quiet on the wire.
“I checked the panel,” I said, my voice flat. “The alarm was turned off at two in the morning with Key Card Four.”
