Mosley shrugged, not really answering my question.

   “I know that Fletcher had more boxes here because he drew this treasure map to them. He just didn’t say X marks the spot. He was too smart for that, and he trusted me to figure it out on my own. In fact, I’m guessing that he set things up precisely this way because he realized that I was the only one who’d have the stubbornness and determination to figure out what his clue really meant.”

   Agreement flashed in Mosley’s eyes, along with what looked like respect.

   I tapped my finger on the paper. “When Finn took me into the vault a few days ago, I noticed that Fletcher’s box was in the middle of this bank of nine boxes that were set off by themselves in the back corner of the vault. I’ll admit that it took me a while to figure out what this rectangle meant, that the old man was telling me that I’d only opened the first box, and that all the other ones around it belonged to him too. But Fletcher was paranoid, and he wanted to make sure that no one else found out about those boxes but Finn and me. That makes me real curious as to what’s in them. But you already know, don’t you, Mr. Mosley?”

   He studied me over the tops of his fingers. “And what makes you think that I know what might be in those boxes?”

   “Because you’re the secrets keeper around here. You know who every single box in your vault belongs to and what is in every single one of them. So you know that all those boxes belong to Fletcher.”

   Mosley kept staring at me, and I looked right back at him. Finn kept shifting on his feet, glancing at both of us in turn, and the only sound was the faint scuff of his shoes on the floor.

   Finally, Mosley barked out a laugh. “Fletcher always told me that you were clever. I didn’t think that you’d figure it out myself.”

   I gave him a thin smile. “Good thing Fletcher didn’t share your doubts. Although I wondered why he trusted you with his boxes.”

   “That’s between Fletcher and me.” Mosley’s smile was as sharp and razor thin as mine was. “Let’s just say that the two of us did each other certain . . . favors from time to time.”

   I opened my mouth to ask exactly what those favors had been, but Finn touched my arm in warning and gave me a stern, pointed look. He knew Mosley better than I did and was telling me that I’d pushed his boss far enough today. So I clamped my mouth shut. Besides, Finn and I still needed to get in those safety-deposit boxes, and I was betting that Mosley was the only one who could open them. That’s how Fletcher would have set it up, and it seemed like he and Mosley had been close enough—or at least done each other enough favors—for Mosley to honor the old man’s wishes.

   Finn cleared his throat. “Gin and I would really appreciate it if we could go look in the boxes now.”

   The dwarf stared back at Finn, and his eyes and face softened, just a bit. For a moment, Mosley’s gaze seemed distant, as though he was thinking of something else, or rather someone else—Fletcher. I saw so much of the old man in Finn, and it seemed like Mosley did too.

   The dwarf pushed back from his desk and gave me another cool look. “Well, then, now that Ms. Blanco has decided to be civil about things, I will be happy to let you into Fletcher’s boxes.”

   * * *

   Mosley made Finn and me step outside his office, then closed and locked the door, not wanting us to see what he was up to. I tilted my head to the side and pressed my ear up against the door, but I couldn’t hear a whisper of sound from the other room.

   “Don’t bother,” Finn said. “His office is soundproof.”

   “What do you think he’s doing in there?”

   Finn shrugged. “Probably getting the box keys. Rumor has it that Mosley has a secret safe hidden somewhere in his office. That seems like exactly the sort of place that Dad would leave those keys.”

   Sure enough, a minute later, the office door opened, and Mosley appeared, carrying a small silver key ring in his hand. Finn and I followed him down the hallway to Big Bertha.

   Mosley nodded at the two giant guards standing there. Another new security measure. “Jimmy, Tommy, take a break.”

   At the stern order, the two men nodded and moved off without a word. Mosley punched in the codes on the keypad, and the three silverstone mesh doors slid back one after another. I thought that Mosley might step into the vault with us, but he flipped through the keys on the ring before selecting one and holding it up where Finn and I could see it.

   “Per Fletcher’s instructions, he wanted you to open this box first,” Mosley said.

   I took the key from him and looked at the number stamped into the metal—1301. Starting at the beginning, in more ways than one. “Thank you.”

   “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ms. Blanco. You too, Finn. Bring me the keys back when you’re done.” Mosley nodded at both of us and left, heading back to his office.

   I waited until he was out of sight and the echo of his footsteps had faded away before turning to Finn. “You ready for this?”

   He blew out a breath. “I guess I have to be.”

   We stepped into the vault and went to the back corner where Fletcher’s safety-deposit boxes were. They were exactly the same as before, three boxes across and three down, for nine boxes total. I hadn’t noticed before, but the boxes were slightly out of order, with 1300 in the center, and 1301 in the upper left-hand corner. Another small clue that I’d initially overlooked.

   So I slid the key into the lock, turned it, and pulled the box out of its slot in the wall. Anticipation surged through me, and I hurried over and set the box down on the table at this end of the vault. For once, I didn’t have the patience to wait, and I yanked open the top of the box to find . . .

   Photos—dozens of photos stacked inside the box.

   They were all of the Bullet Pointe resort.

   I stared down at the photos, dumbfounded.