He yanked at the door and the motion jerked Vera’s feet out from under her. “The fuck,” he grunted. He yanked at the door again, hard enough that this time a deep splintering sound resonated from somewhere within the frame. “It won’t open.” The rasping voice seemed to come from everywhere. As though someone were standing just out of sight up the stairs, and also behind the door of the powder room, and still in the shadowy dining room. Standing in all those places at once, and making a promise. “Not for you. Not anymore.”
