Lock Every Door

by Riley Sager

This was no accidental fall. Dr. Bartholomew killed himself, leaving behind

learn that the winding stairwell is allegedly haunted, either by the

Ruby’s body had been cut open and several vital organs removed,

led police to charge Cornelia Swanson for the murder

In the past twenty years, there have been two murders. One, in

there have been at least thirty unnatural deaths at the Bartholomew. Although

It’s for the storage unit. The very key Leslie said was missing from the others Ingrid had discarded on the lobby floor.

“In the Bartholomew, it’s best to mind your own business. I don’t go

Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, is a gun.

“Not to me, but we only

wake with a jerk on the crimson sofa in the sitting room, the nightmare clinging to me like sweat. I can still smell

This isn’t a dream. It’s really happening.

When the elevator finally arrives, I push Greta inside, close the grate, press the button for the lobby. With a

When we reach the seventh floor, it’s clear that this is the source of the fire. The smoke here is

While crawling, I cough out Rufus’s name,

I hear noises aplenty, but nothing that matches the noise.

The fire started when Mr. Leonard dropped the pot holder in his hands when the coronary struck. It landed

“That’s why I avoid the internet,” Greta says. “It’s a cesspool of misinformation.”

“Cornelia Swanson was a lunatic who should have been living in an asylum, not at the Bartholomew.

The police. They told me there had been an accident and that both of my parents were dead.”

“Smoke rose from the wreckage,” I tell Greta. “It was an awful throat-coating smoke I hoped I’d never smell again. But I did.

The instant I saw those keys, I knew the fire hadn’t been an accident. One key was for the Camry itself. The other two opened storage units at a facility a mile outside of town. One unit contained all my belongings.

don’t tell Greta how when I’m feeling happy, I sometimes get the need to flirt with fire. To feel its heat on my skin. To have the flame

Talking about my parents and Jane doesn’t make that grief feel better or worse. It simply remains.

checked any of the city’s shelters?” “You think I should?” “It certainly couldn’t hurt,” Greta says with

I walk among the cots, seeking out the few that are occupied just in case one of them is Ingrid.

There, standing just inside the lobby, is Andrew.

need—” Andrew looks around the lobby until he’s certain there’s no one else around. “I need money.”

It’s Charlie this time, standing in the hall with the largest flower arrangement I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s so

Thank you for saving my beloved Rufus! You’re an absolute angel!—Marianne