Page 82 of The Fixer

“Eliza, this is Zoë Shaw.”

Shaw.

Relief spun through me. Jet pressed closer to me, the tight grip of his hand on my hip soothing away that ache in my heart. This was Shaw. The voice in Mateo’s ear, the guy who…

I blinked. Hadn’t they said Shaw was a guy?

The blonde gave me a tight smile and extended her hand, which I shook numbly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You’re much prettier in person.” She nudged the bridge of her nose with her knuckle, the way Mateo had, back at Jet’s apartment earlier that morning.

“What are you doing here, Queenie?” Jet asked, breaking up the awkward introductions and my spiraling thoughts.

“I’m here to help, brother. Grease the wheels, so to speak.” She tapped the back of her hand into Mateo’s stomach. “Give me the will.”

He fumbled in his bag, pulling out the pack of papers and handing it over. Queenie took it, then turned on her heel, leading the way deeper into the bank.

“Mr. Rothschild? This is Eliza Westbrook, Charlie’s daughter,” she said when we reached an older man in a suit. “She’d like to access her father’s safe deposit box.”

“And she has the key?” he asked, taking my father’s will from Queenie’s hand.

“I do,” I told him, holding the key out to him.

“You hold on to that, dear.” He flipped through the will quickly, finger running under each line of words. Then, with a nod, he handed the will back to Queenie. “Right this way.”

“That’s you, sweetie,” Queenie told me, giving me a little nudge. “Go on. We’ll be right here.”

I took two steps after Mr. Rothschild, then stopped. “Jet?”

“Right here, sweet girl.” Jet took my hand and, together, we followed after the banker. Down a long hallway, into a sleek silver elevator that brought us down two floors. Rothschild took us through a maze of hallways, leading us into a room full of little metal doors. Once inside, he held up a hand, a silver key clutched between his fingers.

“Box number?”

“Two one one four,” I told him, holding up my key.

With another nod, the man turned. He slid his key into one of the slots on the box labeled with my number. I slid my own in and we twisted them at the same time. The door swung open on silent hinges, and the man removed his key, taking a step back.

“You may use this table if you wish. Take as long as you’d like, and once you’re done, press this button here by the door and I’ll come back.” With that, the man left the room, closing a metal gate behind him.

Jet lifted the box out of its slot and placed it on the long metal table Rothschild had indicated against the far wall. He turned his gaze my way, extending his hand to take mine. “Are you ready?”

With a nod, I stepped closer to the table. But before I could reach for the box, Jet cupped my cheek with his hand.

“Whatever happens, whatever’s in there, just know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it alright.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, lifting up onto my toes to press a kiss to his lips.

My hands shook as I reached for the box’s lid, the metal clanking against the table as I set it down. The breath I’d been holding left me in a rush, and I reached inside, pulling out a plastic bag. “It’s here.”

My mother’s jewelry, stored inside a zippered bag. All her necklaces, her earrings, the beautiful rings my father had bought her over the years. My gaze slid over every piece, tears gathering as I counted off every one in my head.

So often since her death, Dad and I had sat on the floor of his closet, counting out each beautiful piece. And every last one of them was here, safe and sound, not lost to the thief I was sure had taken them from my life.

Blinking back the tears, I returned my attention to the box. Another plastic bag held two stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“The money he withdrew the day before he died,” Jet told me, placing a gentle hand on my back. “We’d have to count it, but it looks like it’s all there.”

Reaching into the box, I lifted out the stacks. Underneath, there sat a cream-colored envelope. My hands shot to my mouth as I saw my name scrawled across the top.

Jet lifted the envelope, holding it out to me.