The woman pulled the bottom drawer out of the chest and silently set it on the floor. It was pitch black inside the room so she had to shift her eyes into their feline form to allow her to see. Under the drawer was the metal-plated compartment. It looked like an ordinary shelf to an untrained eye, but the woman knew it was much more than that.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This was what she had been studying and training to do for the last six months. The chest was the eighteenth century equivalent of a secured safe. The compartment had a keyhole that took an old fashioned key. Caitlin obviously had it hidden somewhere within the mansion. But the woman didn’t need the key, not with the knowledge she had acquired during her time on Fate Mountain. If she used her claw to bust the lock, it would just trigger a mechanism that made it impossible to get inside the chest.
She studied the angles and joints of the wood, looking for the exact groove she needed to begin opening the compartment. Once she had located the correct spot, she extended one claw and pressed it to the groove. Nothing happened. She cursed internally and pressed harder. Finally, she heard a faint pop and let out the breath she was holding. Once she had one side loosened, she was able to do the same thing on the three other corners.
Getting into the safe wasn’t that easy. Even with a jaguar’s sharp claws and superhuman strength, she still had more work to do. Extending her claws from both hands, she pressed them into the seam between the wood and the metal, slowly removing it from the chest. With the metal piece free, she pulled it out and set it on the floor beside her. Now all that was left was wood that her claws could easily scratch.
The woman pulled her hands out of the chest of drawers and slid one under the bottom, pressing up against the secret compartment from below. She heard another faint pop and the entire compartment was freed from the chest. She slowly pulled it out and tapped at the side that had once been against the back of the chest. It fell open and she was able to get inside. She reached in, not feeling anything. She cursed silently.
Dima had been so sure that Caitlin Somerset was storing jewels in this chest. She could not fail this mission. If she did, the consequences would be dire. She knew what Dima did to people who failed him, and he had already given her a second chance. She doubted he would give her a third.
Just when she was about to go into panic mode, she felt a soft velvety bag in the corner of the box. She pulled it out, not stopping to check the contents. Once she had what she’d come for, she hurried out the window, clutched the bag in her teeth, and silently shifted into her animal form.
Within seconds she was down to the ground level, trotting off through the misty, damp lawn and into the forest. The owl hooted again as she passed, the yellow light of dawn slowly turning the inky blackness into a hazy gray.
With her trophy in her mouth, the jaguar galloped through the brightening forest, praying that this one last job would be enough to buy her freedom.
2
Police Commander Rollo Morris stood over remains of the Louis the Fifteenth chest and cupped his clean shaven chin in his hand. His forensics specialist, Damien Fellows, otherwise known as Tech Bear to his crew, snapped photographs of the crime scene.
As soon as he’d entered the room, Rollo had picked up the faintest scent that had made his inner bear rumble with need. He took a long pull of the dissipating scent, and his bear grumbled. It didn’t make any sense why his bear would be growing excited in the middle of a crime scene so Rollo put it out of his mind.
“I just can’t believe this happened,” whimpered the homeowner Caitlin Somerset.
She stood in the middle of the room wearing a frilly yellow house robe that looked like it belonged in Edwardian times. Her bleached blonde hair was piled up in a messy bun on top of her head and her brown eyes looked watery as if she had just been crying.
Rollo groaned inwardly, wondering why the woman had placed her valuables in an antique rather than in a safe like a normal person. But he had heard plenty of stories about the eccentric heiress and already knew the answer to that question. As the Fate Mountain police commander, Rollo Morris would do his utmost to recover her jewels and close this case.
“Who knew that you stored your jewels in this chest of drawers?” Rollo asked.
“No one,” Caitlin said, putting her hand to her heart.
“Are you sure about that?” Rollo asked, crossing his arms over his muscled chest.
Damien continued snapping photographs, looking more like a photographer in his black, hipster street clothes than the police officer he was. Damien then pulled on a pair of purple rubber gloves up to his tattooed arm, and began dusting for prints.