His skin felt like dry, rough paper.

“What is this for?” I asked, looking down at the strange shape.

“He keeps things in your house,” Arthur whispered, looking toward my living room window. “Things Marcus needs him to hide. Check the wood paneling behind the old coal stove.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Because Thomas is getting sloppy,” Arthur said. “And Marcus does not like loose ends.”

He pulled the wool blanket over his shoulders and walked toward the side porch, leaving me alone in the dark.

The brass key felt heavy and frozen in my hand.

I went back inside and locked the kitchen door behind me.

The house was silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator.

I walked into the living room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The old coal stove sat in the corner, unused for decades.

Behind it, the tongue-and-groove pine boards were dark with age and dust.

I knelt on the rug, my knees popping in the quiet room.

I touched the wood paneling, sliding my fingers slowly along the seams.

Near the floorboard, one of the planks felt slightly loose.

I pressed the bottom edge with my thumb.

The board clicked and swung outward on a small, hidden hinge.

Inside the wall cavity sat a rectangular box.

It was made of heavy black metal, secured with a small brass padlock.

The padlock had an opening shaped exactly like a crooked cross.

My breath caught in my throat.

I held Arthur’s key in my hand, my fingers shaking as I lined it up with the keyhole.

Just as I reached for the lock, a loud, heavy knock rattled the front door.

I froze, holding my breath.

The knock came again, harder this time, vibrating through the wooden floorboards.

The knock rattled the glass pane in the front door.