Page 8 of Resurrection
“Number seven’s over there. Be quick.”
With a deep breath, Imogen followed Jury across the carpeted floor. Her sister slid the key into the lock and turned it. Jury glanced at her before pulling the handle to open it.
Inside was a box and nothing else. It was wrapped in thick, shiny black paper, and a number seven was written in gold on top.
Jury grabbed the package, and Imogen scanned the rest of the locker. She used her hands to feel the inner panels, but it was empty. She and Jury turned to face the doorman.
“Got what you need?”
They shared a glance.
“Yes,” Jury said.
“Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
They followed him out of the room as Jury clutched the box to her chest.
Once back out on the street, Jury said, “Get us a ride to the hotel. I don’t want to open it here.”
Amazed at her sister’s restraint and in full agreement, Imogen nodded. “One second.” She tapped the app, put in the information, and hit Confirm. “Three minutes away.”
“Thank God.”
Neither of them spoke while they waited for the car or during the short ride to the NOPSI Hotel, where they were all staying. Their parents had sold their New Orleans home years ago when they retired for a life of golf and fun in the sun in Florida, which meant there was no one to explain anything to when they arrived and rushed up to their shared guest suite.
Once inside, Imogen shut the door behind them, and Jury held out the box.
“Do we just … open it?”
“Uhhh … yeah,” Imogen said.
Jury offered it to her. “You do it.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know. You’re the oldest sister I have now. You do the honors.”
Shocked by Jury’s sudden show of reluctance, Imogen took the box from her sister and carefully slid her finger under the paper so as not to rip it as she unsealed the tape.
“That’s why. It seems too important for me to just … tear into it.”
“Fair enough,” Imogen replied as she grasped the box within the wrapping and tugged it free.
It was thick black paperboard with a gold fleur-de-lis embossed on the lid.
“What in the world is even happening right now? This is some cloak-and-dagger shit.”
Imogen lifted the lid off the box to find black and gold tissue paper. She moved it aside to uncover a cream-colored envelope.She pulled it out and opened it. Inside was another key and a folded piece of paper.
“What the fuck?” Jury said. “Again? What’s this one say?”
“It says two-six-five-zero-seven-zero-four-three-five.”
“What? What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea.”
She handed the handwritten slip with the numbers on it to Jury and looked at the key. “Google it?”
