Lisa's POV

I grabbed my phone from the side pocket of my bag.

First step: evidence.

I made my way back to the hallway. The door I’d broken out from still hung slightly crooked on its hinges, the dented knob dangling like a loose tooth. I snapped pictures of the door first, the scratches from the rod, the linen-wrapped metal I’d left by the wall. Then as I videod, for live footage if you will, I spotted something.

Right at the seam of the door, glittering faintly in the corridor light, one ...