Page 132 of Gave Proof Through the Night

He was, of course, expecting me.

He listened while I got everything off my chest, briefed him on the job… about the execution of all of it. And then I got to the part about the Jackdaw. How the necklace was switched before we even got to it, and the four numbers stamped on the playing card left at our door.

I asked him if he knew anything about who the Jackdaw is. If anybody in his network knew.

He said he had only heard stories, as if the Jackdaw was some sort of legend, always leaving behind a bespoke jack of spades as his calling card.

But he (or she) was a ghost. Nobody knew who the Jackdaw really was.

Then Sal reached into his back pocket for his wallet, opened the billfold and produced a small folded piece of paper.

“This was waiting for me on my table the other day,” he’d said. “Donna told me it was already here in an envelope with my name on it before the diner opened. A jack of spades attached to it. She’d asked the night shift if it had been there when they closed the night before. It had not.”

Sal slid the paper across the table and told me to read it.

It was more numbers, but they didn’t make any sense to me.

Then below the Jackdaw’s signature, in fine print, it said:

DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL.

I’d looked up at Sal. Confused and a little worried.

“The numbers are coordinates,” he’d said. “I checked them myself. The longitude and latitude point to a bank in Lexington, Kentucky. I had one of my buddies call the bank and they confirmed a safety deposit box set up for one America Armitage. All you have to do is show your government ID.”

“Sounds like a trap,” I said.

Sal gave me one of those East Coast full-body shrugs and said "Eh, could be. You'll never know."

From DC to Brooklyn to Lexington. The Jackdaw is using the United States as their own personal poker game.

The question is, who are they and why are they helping me?

I suppose I’ll learn that when I pay them a visit in Lexington because I have a feeling they’re waiting for me there.

I’ll go right after I’m done here in Dennis Hobbs's office. It was ridiculously easy to sneak in here and sink into his cushy leather chair.

My Wonder Woman boots are already up on Dennis's desk when the door opens.

He stops two steps in, keys still in his hand, like he can’t decide if he should call security or double check he’s in the right office.

He drops his keys, and they clatter hard against the wood of his mahogany desk.

“Get your feet off my desk.”

I don’t move.

“Where’s my necklace, Erica?”

“How should I know?”

“Because you took it.”

“Moi? Somebody stole something from under your nose, and you think it’s me?”

His jaw ticks. “Who else would it be?”

I hold his eyes. No sarcasm this time.