Chapter 5 - The Safety Deposit Box
The next afternoon, Madison didn't go straight home after school. Instead of catching the 3:15 bus that dropped her off at the corner of Elmwood Terrace, she walked three blocks in the opposite direction toward the commercial district on Maple Street.
The town of Oakhaven was small, the kind of place where everyone knew your grandfather’s name and the local bank teller remembered what grade you were in. But it also had anonymity for those who knew how to move quietly.
She walked into the First National Bank of Oakhaven just as the afternoon light was turning the plate-glass windows into mirrors. The lobby smelled of floor wax and old paper.
"Hi," Madison said, walking up to the counter where a middle-aged woman with silver-rimmed glasses was sorting deposit slips. "I'd like to rent a small safety deposit box, please."
The teller, whose nametag read Mrs. Gable, looked over her glasses at Madison with a mild, curious expression. "Certainly, dear. Do you have an account with us?"
"I have my savings account," Madison said, pulling her debit card and her student ID from her wallet. "And I have my own money for the rental fee."
Mrs. Gable typed a few keys into her terminal, checking the records. "You're Douglas Kensington’s daughter, aren't you? I remember when you opened your first piggy-bank savings account here with your father."
"Yes, ma'am," Madison said, her heart doing a nervous little stutter against her ribs. "I'd like this box to be in my name only, please. Just my signature."
Mrs. Gable paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. There was something in the girl's tone—a quiet, absolute seriousness that didn't belong to a sixteen-year-old—that made the experienced teller look closer.
"Of course, Madison. Privacy is our policy," Mrs. Gable said smoothly, her professional demeanor settling back into place. She printed out a standard contract, slid it across the glass counter along with a pen, and watched as Madison signed her name with a steady, legible hand.
Ten minutes later, guided by a security guard through the heavy steel door of the vault room, Madison stood before a narrow metal slot along the bottom row. She slid her key into the lock, turned it until it clicked, and pulled out the small rectangular aluminum box.
She carried it over to a private wooden viewing booth in the corner of the vault, closed the heavy door behind her, and sat down at the small desk.
From her coin purse, she pulled out the tiny micro-SD card she had retrieved from the smoke detector. It was so small it looked like a speck of dust against the polished wood of the table. She slid it into a USB adapter card she had bought at the electronics store earlier that week, then tucked the adapter into her backpack's inner pocket.
Not yet. Not here.
She placed the micro-SD card back into its plastic case, dropped it into the aluminum safety deposit box, slid the box back into the wall, and locked it.
May you like
When she walked out of the bank into the crisp autumn air, she felt as if a fifty-pound weight had been lifted from her chest. Even if Aaron searched her room ten times over, even if Douglas tore her mattress apart looking for whatever was making her so confident, they would find nothing.
The truth was safe in a steel vault three blocks away.
