Chapter 9 - Thieves in the Night|
Two nights later, Beatrice tried a softer approach.
At eleven o'clock, a soft knock sounded at my bedroom door. I opened it to find Beatrice holding a tray with a steaming porcelain teacup. She forced a warm, maternal smile onto her face.
“Mara, dear,” she said in a soothing voice that sounded entirely fake. “You look so tired. I made you some chamomile tea to help you sleep. Let’s put all this unpleasantness behind us.”
I looked at the tea, then at her eyes.
“Thank you, Beatrice,” I said, taking the cup. “How thoughtful.”
I closed the door, walked straight to the bathroom, and poured every drop of the tea down the drain. My instincts were right—the faint aroma of crushed sleeping pills wafted from the steam.
I went back to the bedroom, turned off the lights, ruffled the bedsheets to make it look like someone was sleeping beneath the duvet, and hid inside the walk-in closet with my phone open to the live security camera feed.
At 12:17 AM, my bedroom door handle turned slowly.
The door creaked open. Adrian and Beatrice stepped into the dark room, lit only by the beam of a small flashlight. Adrian carried a set of screwdrivers and a small crowbar.
“Is she asleep?” Beatrice whispered, glancing nervously toward the bed.
“The tea worked. She’s out cold,” Adrian muttered. “Hurry up. Check the wardrobe.”
They crept toward the built-in digital safe inside my closet wall. For twenty-five agonizing minutes, they sweated, cursed, and battered the electronic keypad until Adrian finally managed to pry the backup keyhole cover open and crack the latch.
Beatrice gasped with greed. “Get the house deeds! Find the property titles!”
Adrian reached inside, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and held the flashlight over it.
His face fell immediately.
Printed in bold, black ink on the center of the page was a simple message:
The property title and house deeds are safely stored in a bank vault. Good luck to the two thieves in my bedroom. You are being recorded.
Adrian dropped the paper as if it were on fire.
“She knows!” he panicked, looking around the dark room. “Let’s get out of here!”
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They scrambled out of the room, tripping over each other in the dark.
From inside my hiding spot, I smiled. But I knew that a cornered rat would always try one final, desperate move.
