She looked at the yellow light shining on the wall of the front hall, then down at the blue cloth of María’s sleeve.

“He locked the box,” Emily whispered into the hushed air of the stairwell.

It was only a whisper, but the open phone receiver lying on the carpet fifteen feet behind her caught it.

Thomas turned his head partway up the stairs.

“Emily.

That’s enough.”

“What box does she mean, Mr.

Miller?” Daniel asked from the rug behind him.