The door was closed.
I was certain we left it open.
Kieran put his hand out. Flat. Still.
Don't move.
I didn't move.
He reached slowly across the desk and picked up a heavy flashlight. Solid metal. The kind that worked as more than a light.
He moved to the door.
I moved with him.
He held up three fingers.
Two.
One.
He pulled it open fast.
The hallway was empty.
Both of us stood there breathing.
Then Kieran looked down.
Muddy boot print on the floor. Fresh. Pointed toward the east wing.
Someone had been standing outside that door listening.
Kieran grabbed my wrist and pulled me back inside. Shut the door. Locked it this time.
"Marcus has a key to every room in this house," he said. Low. Barely above a whisper.
"Does he know about this room?" I said.
"No," Kieran said. "N
