My heart pounded against my ribs like a heavy hammer.

I did not move.

I did not make a sound.

“Kiera!” a voice called from the porch.

It was deep, rough, and unfamiliar.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the noise.

My fingers gripped the cold brass key.

I turned back to the black metal box inside the wall cavity.

The padlock hung there, dark and heavy.

I slid the crooked key into the keyhole.

It fit into the groove without resistance.

I turned the key to the right.

A sharp, metallic click echoed in the small space behind the stove.

The padlock popped open in my palm.

Another heavy blow struck the front door, making the frame groan.

“I know you’re in there!” the voice shouted.

The floorboards beneath my knees vibrated with the force of the shout.

I ignored the voice.

I pulled the padlock free and set it on the dusty rug.

My hands shook as I lifted the heavy lid of the box.

The hinge gave a faint, dry scrape that set my teeth on edge.