Page 56 of Filthy Savage
Axe
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”I ask, climbing out of the driver seat. I look down the sleepy main street of our hometown from all those years ago. “Hardly anything’s changed.”
Nancy steps outside and smooths out her suit jacket. “I’m surprised this place isn’t a ghost town by now.”
We stride toward the front entrance of Costa Verde Savings and Loans. “This bank’s probably the only thing keeping it alive.”
“I just hope this key is enough to get us access,” Nancy mutters as we enter. “We don’t even know whose name the box is in. If there’s still a box.”
“We’ll find out.” I look around the stylish, modern interior of the bank. I glance down at my leather cut, t-shirt and jeans, then I check what my sister wears. Nancy fits right in here. Me, not so much.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” one of the tellers greets us from behind the security glass at her station.
I clear my throat, aware of how out of place I look, but don’t give a damn at this point. “We’re here about a safety deposit box one of our parents owned.”
The teller nods. “May I see the key?”
“Sure,” Nancy answers, taking it from the side pocket of her purse. She passes it through the opening in the security glass.
“And what are your parents’ names?”
“Natalie and Alain Voltaire,” Nancy tells her. “I’ll write it down as their names have a French spelling.”
“Thank you. I’ll check for you.”
The teller takes the key and written names to a coworker sitting at his desk in an inner office. After a brief chat, the man checks something on his computer, then nods to the teller.
She returns to us with a smile on her face. “If you’ll both just show me a piece of identification confirming that you are Nancy Voltaire and Alexander Voltaire, I’d be happy to take you to open the box.” The teller accepts our driver's licenses and Nancy’s proof of name change. “Follow me.”
She leads us past a security guard and around a corner into the open bank vault. With a gesture, the teller points to a small private viewing room. “If you’ll have a seat in there, I’ll bring you the box.”
Me and Nancy take a seat facing the door.
“Are you nervous about what’s inside?” Nancy asks me.
“I’d say more curious than anything.”
“Maybe it’s… ahhh, who knows.” She leans back in her chair and we wait.
The teller returns a few minutes later and places a large strongbox on the table. “Thanks for your patience. This is it.” She turns the key on the side but leaves the lid down. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you’re finished.”
I open the lid when we’re alone again. “Okay, well it’s not wads and wads of cash, or a secret insurance policy we didn’t know about,” I say, lifting out an index card folded in two. “That’s all?”
Nancy leans forward. “What’s on it?”
I open it and almost fall out of my chair from the shock of it. The four names scribbled out are bad enough, but they’re written in Mom’s handwriting, not Dad’s. My shaking hand passes it over to Nancy. “Jesus fuck. What the hell was Mom into?” I ask.
I get to my feet and start pacing as I run agitated hands over my head, gripping my hair by the fistful.
“What?” Nancy shrieks after her eyes scan the words and pour over them. She snaps her head up to me so quickly that her bangs whip off her face from the jolt. “But…I don’t understand. Why did Mom have a list with these names?”
I can hardly contain myself. The four names seem to have blazed onto the back of my eyelids and my vision.
Director Harvey Bain,Nevada Department of Public Safety
Keith Jackson
Vincent Belmont
