Maya turned to face him. “Why?”

His eyes moved toward the ceiling—toward the second floor, toward the locked room. “Because I’m finally opening a door.”

Maya slept badly that night, and at dawn she arrived while the sky was still violet over the city. Mrs. Gordon was waiting in the foyer, her face pale and anxious.

“Did he tell you what he plans to do?” Maya asked.

Mrs. Gordon nodded slowly. “You don’t have to go in there.”

“He asked me to be there.”