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when they had started searching Dylan’s house. But it had served them well then, so hopefully it would serve them well here, too.

Olin went to the kitchen to start his search there.

“We have to assume he could wake up at any time,” Connor called after him. “Be as fast as you can.” Then he went to Austin’s bedroom.

It was the one room in the apartment he had never been in. He had never even opened the door—which, Connor now realized, Austin always kept closed. Did he keep it locked, also? Connor tried to turn the knob. Apparently, he did.

Austin might as well have hung a flashing red sign over the door that read “Secrets Galore.”

But how was he going to get inside? Connor could hack his way into a computer, but a locked door was another matter entirely.

Austin had to have a key. Connor tried to remember seeing him use it. He couldn’t. No surprise. Austin would have been careful not to draw attention to the locked door. So, time for a game of hide and seek. If Connor wanted to keep a room in his house locked, where would he keep the key?

The most obvious place was Austin’s keyring. Since Austin always kept his keyring in his pocket—never in a drawer or on a table, not even for a minute—that seemed like a safe assumption.

It was also the last place Connor wanted to look.

He returned to the living room. Austin was still sprawled out on his stomach near the sofa, only now he was snoring. To get to his pockets, Connor would have to turn him over. Getting that close to the man made him nervous, but what choice did he have?

He dropped to one knee, and Dylan, who was now searching the TV stand’s cabinets, said, “What are you doing?”

“I need to get his keys.”

“Why?”

“His bedroom door is locked.”

As far as Connor could see, Dylan had found only a few DVDs inside the cabinets. That didn’t surprise him. Austin didn’t like clutter.

“No shit? That probably means there’s something inside.”

Connor resisted the urge to respond with the same kind of wisecrack remark he might have gotten from her.

“Let me see,” she said, already making her way to Austin’s bedroom door.

Connor stood up and followed. “It’s a locked door. What are you going—”

“It’s just a simple pop lock, I think,” she said, looking at the handle.

Connor wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but it sounded like she was referring to the same kind of privacy lock he had seen on the guest bedroom door. “So? Unless you want to break it down, we’re still going to need the key.”

“Do you have a credit card?”

“You mean to tell me you know how to pick that lock?”

“There’s a room in our house we never use. And, if I’m right, there’s a lock on it just like this. My parents like to put Christmas presents in there and sometimes other things. Let’s just say they haven’t surprised me with a present in two years.”

Connor thought she might be overstating her skills, but there was no harm in letting her try. He pulled his Mastercard out of his wallet and handed it over.

Dylan went straight to work, wedging it between the door and the jamb, wiggling the handle.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Be patient.”

Olin joined them, perhaps drawn by the rattle. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Austin’s bedroom,” Connor said.

Then he, too, repeated the same sentiment that had crossed Connor’s and Dylan’s minds when they had learned about the locked door. “That looks promising.”

There was a whisper of a sound as the credit card slid further between the door and the jamb, and then the door glided open. “See?” Dylan said. “I told you. Patience.” She handed the credit card back to Connor.

All three stared into the bedroom as if it were still inaccessible, sealed off by some invisible wall. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about the space. A large bed had been centered along the back wall, the dressing tucked and folded in all the right places. A pair of nightstands made of reclaimed wood with brass handles sat on either side of it. A matching dresser on one side of the room. A closet, its door cracked open.

Like the rest of the apartment, everything was free of clutter. Really, of personal belongings or knickknacks of any sort.

At least it would be easy to search, Connor thought. He led the charge through the invisible wall, made a beeline for the closet. Dylan and Olin were still standing in the hall. “Come on, guys. Let’s get this done.”

In the walk-in, bare plastic racks clung to the walls. There wasn’t a single item of clothing in sight outside of the hamper sitting by the door. “That’s a bust,” he announced, as he exited.

Dylan pulled out the drawers on the nightstands and announced they were both empty, as well. The only item in the room that wasn’t, it turned out, was the dresser. There, Austin had neatly folded a collection of tee shirts and jeans. Olin opened another drawer and found even his underwear was folded.

Something about this didn’t feel right. This was more than just the obsessive neatness Austin was known for. But at first Connor couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Then he remembered: Austin had said he used to be a software developer. Connor knew a lot of software developers wore jeans to work, but even those that did had at least one nice suit in the closet for interviews.

“I don’t get it,” Olin said, when he had finished going through the dresser. “There’s nothing here. Why would you go to the trouble of locking your bedroom door if you had nothing to hide?”

Dylan looked thoughtfully at the dresser. “Can you guys move it back? I want to see if there’s anything behind it.”

Connor and Olin each went to one side of the dresser. It was heavy—Connor could tell that much just by looking at it. “On the count