would not turn.
Then something inside clicked.
The door opened.
The room was empty except for a narrow bed, a wooden desk, and a small metal cabinet beneath the window. Dust lay across every surface, but the room had not been abandoned entirely.
Someone had been here recently.
A clean envelope rested on the desk.
My name was written across it.
ANNA HALE
I stepped forward.
Daniel caught my arm—not tightly, only enough to stop me.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There may be a reason it was left here.”
“By whom?”
“I
