Henry edged closer. The light spilling through a crack under the doorway hit his bare toes, and the noise abruptly stopped. He quickly stepped out of the light and held his breath. His pulse pounded a steady beat in his eardrums. He heard a tap-tap-tap at the office window. Whoever was in there opened the window, then sat heavily in his father’s chair. The pounding in his ears grew louder.

The thief began to talk. Henry pressed his ear to the door. He was so relieved to recognize the voice that his aching lungs whooshed with relief.

The door swung open with lightning speed. A large shadow loomed in the doorway—it was his father. “Henry.” His eyes bored into his son for a full ten seconds before he went back to his desk, leaving the door open.

Henry peered cautiously into the office. His father was alone with his back to the open window. Henry glanced quickly to the top shelf, and when he looked back, his father’s narrowed eyes had zeroed in on him. “Good evening, son.”

Henry wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but his father’s voice sounded calm. Normal. They could have been having a conversation at the dinner table.

“Hi, Dad.”

“A little past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“Way past, sir.”

His father smiled. “So it is.”

Henry relaxed a little, enabling him to take in details: the crumpled suit, necktie off-center, smudged white shirt, dirty hands and nails. That was unusual. Henry was accustomed to seeing his father leave for work looking like a department store mannequin, and come home looking just as tidy.

“Who were you taking to?”

“I was reading out loud. It helps me concentrate.”

“Oh.” Henry didn’t see any open books. “Are you reading for work?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Henry took another step toward the desk. For a second, the wand from Coralis seemed to tremble in his pajama pocket. His eyes widened, startled, before he decided it was probably just his imagination.

His father didn’t notice. He appeared distant and preoccupied as he rifled through the desk’s open drawers.

“You haven’t been in here while I’ve been away?” he asked distractedly. “Have you?”

Henry’s mouth went dry. “N-no,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he lied, but he had the sudden sense that his father wouldn’t be pleased with the truth. He groped for something else to say—a safe topic that had nothing to do with wands or strange books.

“I’ve been playing baseball.”

What? Where did that come from? Of all the things he did not want to discuss, this was possibly the worst.

“Your mother told me all about it. I heard it went well.”

“Ha!” He didn’t mean to laugh out loud, but it made his father smile, and there was warmth in it. “She must have been watching a different game.”