CHAPTER TWELVE
July 1, 2010
Afternoon
Calvin made sure the study door was locked against intruders, then assembled a list of what he’d need. As he balanced his heels on the desk to survey his list, he thought,
This place is starting to feel like home.
Evidence that Mrs. Seabrook had dusted, vacuumed, straightened and scrubbed the place from top to bottom marked her surrender to his will. A dust cloth she’d forgotten on a bookshelf hung like a white flag.
“If you insist on skulking around this room,” she’d huffed, “it won’t stay a health hazard on my watch.” She’d even prescribed a potted leafy thing with vines for the windowsill.
Her stories about the frightening experiences of those who’d used doors hadn’t been at all comforting, and neither had Percy’s warning in the letter. And y
