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Taped to the inside of the shoe.
With an angled top, I know it’s for a safe deposit box. I’ve seen these before.
The bank isn’t listed, but Nick will figure that out.
I fold the key into my palm and stick it inside my pocket.
Mandy helps me pack the box back up, and when we get back to the main processing center, my smile tells Ash,I found it.
On the drive back to Manhattan, I text photos of the key to Nick, who manages to figure out which bank it was issued from.
Hacking into their records, he finds Kinsey’s account, and which branch the box is located in. He also uploads the revised signature card giving me access.
Ash gets paged to go to the hospital and drops me off.
“Am I telling Bernadette?” he asks.
“No. I want to.”
“Can we do it together?” Ash leans on his steering wheel, looking so damn sexy. “We’rebothin this relationship with her.”
“Bernadette’s at Emery’s office.” I check the time. “We’ll go there after I have it. I’ll text you.”
“I’m still processing how you kept that Pratt was prosecuting this case from me.” Ash’s stare wrecks me.
“I know. I saw his name on the docket when Bernadette came to me. You and I hadn’t spoken in months. It was instinct.” I push a guilty hand through my hair.
“Yeah, but then we were talking, and you still put Bernie’s dream at risk.”
“I had full confidence I’d get her designs back,” I say, standing up straight. “Look what I pulled off?”
“True, counselor,” he laughs at my rare show of enthusiasm. “Go. Get the designs for our girl.” He leans out the driver’s window and kisses me. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I grip his face. “So fucking much.”
Ash drives off, and I wait for Nick to meet me outside the bank.
He gets out of his Tahoe a few minutes later, looking ominous.
“I have guys who can break into this branch after hours if they suspect my hack job.”
“Later tonight, Michael Kinsey might be back at Rikers collecting his shit from Perry and will see the key is missing.” Keeping him there is my next move. “He’ll call the branch to lock down the box.”
“Let’s do this. I have your back, Montgomery.”
Inside, I wipe the guiltandexcitement from my eyes and set my face to aggressive lawyer.
Hating myself, I find a woman manager and lay apanty-melting smile on her.
“Ford Montgomery, attorney for Michael Kinsey. He asked me to retrieve some items from his safe deposit box. He’s at Rikers.” I show her my ID and take out the key. “He put me on the account to have access.”
She exhales while looking him up.
Clearing her throat, she says, “Downstairs. Box 415, I’ll clear you to the guard.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” I wink and walk toward the stairs.
I wave Nick off, but get Ash on the phone, for a video call.
