CHAPTER 8
We brought Silas to the Cedar Rapids Police Department's specialized family advocacy center, away from the flashing lights and media cameras swarming Elm Street.
A warm bowl of soup sat untouched on the small table in front of him as he sat wrapped in a soft fleece blanket, staring quietly at his hands.
I sat down in the chair across from him, sliding a warm cup of hot chocolate toward his hands while keeping my posture relaxed and open.
"Your dad is in custody, Silas," I said gently, ensuring my voice carried absolute warmth and truth. "He isn't ever coming back to that house. And Aunt Sarah is out of surgery and expected to make a full recovery."
Silas slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes searching my face for any sign of deception before he let out a long, trembling breath.
"Did you find the books down there?" Silas asked softly, his small fingers wrapping around the warm mug. "The ones with all the names?"
"We found them, Silas," I nodded. "Agent Vance and his team are going through every single ledger right now."
"Grandma told me before she died that the money wasn't hers," Silas whispered, looking down at the table. "She said bad men gave it to her to keep safe, and if anyone opened that door, those men would come back."
My heart skipped a beat as the terrifying implication of his words registered in my mind with sudden, lethal clarity.
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The criminal syndicate behind the 1974 heist wasn't just a piece of history; they were still actively monitoring the Granger family, waiting for the vault to be breached.
Before I could ask Silas another question, the glass window of the advocacy center shattered inward with a violent, deafening explosion.
