Chapter 8
That bit of a nap had recharged me too much for sleep to take me. Well, that plus a renewed sense of purpose. I sat in the chair near the fireplace in my room, listening as the soft sounds of others moving in the rest of the house quieted. I waited a bit longer to be absolutely sure.
The voice in my head promised we weren't going to open the box. That would be breaking Mr. Trevor's rule. We were just going to touch it. Not just a fingertip on the very edge of the clasp, but a thorough examination. There was something odd about that box. I wanted to know what that wood would feel like under my palms. Was it as warm as it looked?
Curiously, I wasn't hearing any of the jazz music now. No Friday night party would wrap up so early. Perhaps Brianna was right, and I had been dreaming
