Then a sound came from upstairs.
It was so quiet that I almost missed it.
A small, broken sob.
“Lizzy?”
The sound stopped.
I climbed the stairs and swept the light across the hallway.
Three bedroom doors stood open.
At the far end was a storage closet with a latch fastened on the outside.
I felt something inside me go still.
“Lizzy?”
For a moment, there was no response.
Then a tiny voice came through the door.
“Auntie?”
“I’m here.”
I pulled at the latch, but it would not release.
The metal looked bent, as though it had been forced into place.
“Move away from the door, sweetheart.”
I waited until she told me she had moved.
Then I hit the door with my shoulder.
The frame shuddered, but the latch held.
I hit it again.
Pain shot down my arm.
On the third strike, the screws tore loose and the door swung inward.
