Fifteen
Jake had to jiggle the key the landlord had given him in the lock before the front door gave. The lock felt stiff, as if it wasn’t often used. To reinforce this impression, the door gave a protesting squeak as it swung closed behind him. Inside, the light filtering through imperfect blinds was thick with dust motes as it dimly revealed what looked like an ordinary office. A lesser desk near the front door seemed to be for reception purposes, with several desks of better quality lined up behind. Phones, computers, and filing cabinets completed the picture of a business enterprise, though there was no indication what that enterprise was supposed to be.
He pulled on protective gloves and adjusted one set of blinds to let in more light. The air was stale, and—Jake swiped a finger acr
