I threw my shoulder against it once, then twice. The old wood groaned but held. On the third attempt, the latch tore free, and the door flew inward.
Dorothy sat on the floor beside a stack of cardboard boxes. Her face was pale, and one hand rested against her ankle. An overturned wooden stool lay nearby.
« Oh, my God. »
I dropped beside her. « Are you hurt? »
« My ankle, » she whispered. « I fell when I tried to reach that top shelf. The door swung shut, and the lock jammed. »
« How long have you been down here? »
« Perhaps an hour. »
Anger and relief crashed through me at once.
« Where is Alex? »
« He went to the pharmacy. »
« And he left you alone? »
Dorothy frowned. « He didn’t know I came down here. »
