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Maybe there's a spare key hidden. I run my hand along the frame of the door.
Nothing.
I look down to see if there’s a doormat. Plenty of people stuff extra keys under their doormats in case they lose their set. But there’s no good reason for a doormat to beinsideof an office, so I shouldn’t be as peeved as I am when I don’t find one.
Try one more time.
I take a cleansing breath to clear my mind and focus. I reinsert the bent paperclip and resume my task. When I hear the softclick, I nearly shout and dance in victory.
Pulling the handle, I enter the office quickly, closing the door quietly behind me.
Just in case.
I stuff the paperclip into my pocket and squint in the darkness. Circling the desk, my eyes roam the spotless surface. I’m sure the computer is a goldmine, but I know for a fact that it’s password protected. And I can’t learn password hacking in an afternoon on the internet.
I pull on the file cabinets, but of course, they’re locked. I can try to pick them, but I’m nervous to use light in case someone does show up. The only possible way of keeping myself hidden is in darkness. Which makes me realize I should predetermine a hiding spot in case I need it.
I feel around the walls, starting with the one next to the office door. I move to the back wall, opposite the door and wall-to-wall window, checking for a possible exit. Sliding my hands across the wall, my fingers brush against a picture frame, causing it to swing before banging into my hand.
I yelp on reflex, shaking my hand out. Reaching out to grab the frame, I stop it from moving, or worse, falling off, when I see a reflection of light.
What the fuck was that?
Shifting the picture frame aside a few inches reveals a square of metal behind it. My heart races impossibly faster.
A hidden safe?
I push the frame a few more inches, but it’s too far. It detaches from the wall and I throw my other hand out just in time to balance it. Gently placing it on the floor, I rise to face the small metal box that’s in the wall.
There’s no keypad, but there are hinges, so it has to open.
But how?
While the light from the office space reflects on the metal, it’s not enough to see the box clearly. Leaning in closer, I meticulously scan every inch of the surface, tracing my fingers along it. My finger catches on a small hole close to the edge, but it’s too dark to see inside.
Damn it, I’m going to need light.
Pulling out my phone, I access the flashlight, quickly putting it over the hole.
A keyhole. Atinykeyhole.
There’s no way I can pick that lock. Maybe he has the key in this office?
I shut off the light and scurry back to the desk, careful not to move anything as I feel around. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, so I can tell my search will be fruitless. Plus, who the fuck would leave a key out for anyone to find?
Better yet, why would there be a goddamn safe in the wall?
Is that normal for CEOs?
If I’m going to find a key, it’s going to be hidden. Could it be in the locked file cabinet? Crouching down, I confirm the keyhole on the cabinet yields the same issue as the safe—it’s tiny. Do I risk leaving scratch marks on the metal if the paperclip misses the hole?
I need to know.
I move to pull the makeshift tool out of my pocket when a sudden thought crosses my mind. It can’t be explained as anything other than a gut feeling.
Check under the desk.
I drop to the floor so suddenly that my knees scrape against the rough carpet. I’m definitely going to have a rug burn. Ignoring the pain, I crawl under the desk. Pulling my phone back out, I turn on the light. A quick scan of the underside confirms there’s nothing.
