Page 137 of Shadow

Wait. She stood up. The old door opened in, toward the closet.

Which meant the hinges were on the inside.

She ran her hand over them. Three of them. Old. Standard. The kind you could remove if you had the right tool.

Like a pocketknife.

She worked the knife under the first hinge pin. Pried. Levered. Felt it give. Come loose. Fall to the floor with a small clink.

One down. Two to go.

The second pin came easier.

The third pin stuck. Rusted. Old. Refusing to budge.

Daphne worked it. Pried harder. Breathed through frustration. The blade scraped metal.

“Please,” she whispered.

The pin jerked loose. She worked it out.

All three hinges free.

And all she had to do was lever the door off its hinges and break the lock.

No problem.

She got her fingers under the bottom of the door, started to wiggle it. The door moved at the hinge, and she worked her knife into the gap, wedged it out more.

It finally moved enough to fit her fingers in.

And then she shoved the toe of the cowboy boot into the space and used it as a lever.

She wedged herself sideways and forced the door through the gap.

The lock broke. Daphne scrambled out, breathing hard.

The house was silent.

She pocketed the knife and crept out to the living room.

Empty.

And then she ran upstairs to her bedroom, where she’d left her own ankle holster with her own .380 ACP.

Except, certainly, Asher had better manpower here.

She ran down to his office. Stood in the room.

Wait. The safe room.

She walked over to his desk. Felt for the tab underneath. Pushed it.

The door opened.

She walked inside, found the gun closet and opened it.

“Well done, Ash.”