A Web So Dark and Deadly

Chapter Nine

I shouldn't feel this nervous riding the elevator up to Tabitha's apartment building. This is my fifth time coming here. Anyone who spots me shouldn't think anything of it.

Yet my palms are slick with sweat, and my grip on my purse threatens to release at any moment.

The elevator doors part, and I'm faced with a clock mounted on the wall. Two hands point to the time: fifteen minutes past two o'clock. I have an hour and a half to find the fish. Sounds easy, right?

Except the fish could be anywhere. She might've already disposed of it for all I know, flushed it down the toilet Finding Nemo-style. I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves.

Don't panic. It isn't time to panic — yet.

I stop outside Tabitha's door. I open my purse, trying to not appear too suspicious while I rifle through it. Inside the house-breaking kit, there's a few metal picks, one slender with a slight curve on the end, a pick with jagged teeth, and a skinny L-shaped one. My eyes sweep the hallway. It's empty, but that doesn't stop my nerves from being on edge.

Removing the jagged pick, the rake, as the lock-picking article I read in the car called it, I insert inside the lock. I push the rake to the back of the lock, then gently raise it. Just as the article said, I begin scrubbing back and forth more rapidly for a few seconds. The gears in the lock make a soft clicking sound, loosening a little more each time until the lock mechanism is tripped.

The lock clicks into place. I turn the handle and rush into Tabitha's apartment. A single lamp is turned on by the window, enabling me to take in the living room and dining room. I drop the pick back into my purse and begin my search.

I feel like an idiot lifting up couch cushions to find a fish, but I'm not going to leave one place unchecked. After checking under tables and in the hall closet, I walk through a doorway into the kitchen. She has several cabinets full of fine china, though more every day, ceramic-ware is drying in her dishwasher. My stomach growls when I open her fridge, which is full of fresh vegetables, fruits, and a few packages of raw halibut, lobster, and venison. Pickled vegetables, condiments, and expensive-looking pasta noodles reside in her pantry.

There's still no angelfish. I exit the kitchen, my gaze drifting up the staircase to a line of three doors. With a sigh, I bound up the steps, my flats pattering on the wood. My hand closes around the first doorknob, and the hinges squeal open. I feel for the light switch and flick it on, casting away the darkness that crowded the space.

A queen-sized bed is pressed against the back wall, covered in a shiny, rose-gold comforter with purple embroidery around the edges. Velvet pillows are piled atop it in various shapes and sizes: some small and round, others square or triangular. The bed is flanked by glossy, white tables on either side, each bearing a lamp, and a vanity table stretches on the left wall, complete with a velvet-cushioned chair and large, rounded mirror.

It looks like a room out of a magazine. I'm almost afraid to taint it, but I must find the fish. My life depends on it. I start by opening the drawers of her bedside table. Letters and papers are neatly stacked inside, and I try not to read any of the writing on them. Next, I search the area by the vanity, then open her closet. It's somehow even more massive than mine, but I pick through each evening gown, each silken shirt and trouser, each flowing suit.

Frustration wells inside me. Tears prick at my eyes as I move faster and faster. It'll take all night to search this place! I steal a glance at the clock above Tabitha's bed. It's after three in the morning. I only have another forty minutes until I need to join Saige in the car. It may seem like a lot of time, except I've already spent an hour looking. I still have two more rooms to go.