She knelt in front of the door and selected two tools from the case.She inserted them into the lock and worked them carefully, her movements confident and precise.Miles heard a series of soft clicks.In less than ten seconds, the lock turned and Kim pushed the door open.
Miles chuckled, genuinely impressed."That was like a magic trick."
"Years of practice," Kim said, standing and tucking the tools back into their case.She then locked eyes with him, grinned, and said, “Like I said:Houdini.”
They stepped inside and Miles closed the door behind them.The interior smelled stale, like the windows hadn’t been opened in months.The living room was small and sparsely furnished.A sagging couch sat against one wall facing a small but newer TV that sat on a battered and likely second-hand console table.The carpet was worn and stained in several places.
Miles moved through the living room into the kitchen.The space was cramped, with outdated appliances and peeling linoleum flooring.A small table with two chairs occupied the corner near the back door.But what caught his attention was the mail scattered on the counter beside the sink.
He walked over and examined the envelopes without touching them.Several were addressed to James Clancy at this address.Electric bills, credit card offers, a notice from the dentist.All of them bore Clancy's name.
"Well, this is certainly James Clancy’s place," Miles said.
Kim had already pulled out her tablet and was tapping rapidly on the screen."Let me see what I can find on him."
Miles left her in the kitchen and moved deeper into the house.A short hallway led to two bedrooms and a bathroom.The bathroom was grimy but functional, with rust stains in the sink and tub.The first bedroom appeared to be used for storage, filled with cardboard boxes and old furniture covered with sheets.Several stacks of old paperbacks tottered in the corner—Lee Child, Robert Ludlum, and Michael Crichton.
The second bedroom was clearly where Clancy spent most of his time.A twin bed sat against one wall with rumpled sheets and a single pillow.A small dresser occupied the opposite wall; a few of the drawers were slightly open with clothing visible inside.The closet door stood ajar, revealing a few shirts and pants hanging from wire hangers.
Miles scanned the room carefully.There were no personal photos on the walls or dresser.No books or magazines.It was almost eerie in its simplicity.
"Miles," Kim called from the kitchen."I've got something."
He reluctantly left the bedroom behind and returned to the kitchen.There, Kim was staring at her tablet with a focused expression.
"James Clancy has a criminal record," she said."Two arrests, both at LAX.”
“Two arrests at an airport?”Miles said, his attention instantly piqued.
“Yeah, it looks like he was caught sneaking onto the tarmac to watch planes take off.The first time was six years ago.Security found him sitting near one of the runways at three in the morning.He told them he just wanted to watch the planes.There’s a note that requested a psychiatric evaluation."
"And the second time?"
"Just last year.Same thing.He climbed a fence and made it onto the tarmac before security spotted him.That time he was charged with trespassing but the charges were dropped after he completed court-ordered therapy."
Miles processed this information.A man with a debilitating fear of heights who was drawn to watch airplanes, machines that existed solely to climb thousands of feet into the air.The psychology made a twisted kind of sense.But it also didn’t exactly feel like it fit—not Clancy as a suspect, but the psychology of it.
"We need to call Morales," Miles said, pulling out his phone.He dialed the detective's number and she answered on the second ring.
"This is Morales."
"Detective, it's Agent Sterling.We've got a name for our suspect.James Clancy, thirty-seven years old.We're at his residence now in Highland Park."
"Is he there?"
"Negative.The place appears empty but we found mail confirming this is his address.Agent Kim pulled his record.He's been arrested twice for trespassing at LAX, both times sneaking onto the tarmac to watch planes."
"Jesus," Morales said quietly."That sure is a bullseye."
"I do what I can,” she said flatly.“What's your next move?"
"We're going to search the rest of the house, see if we can find anything that tells us where he might be."
"Got it.Let me know if you need anything.In the meantime, I’ll make sure to keep you updated."
Miles ended the call and turned back to Kim, who had turned her attention back to her tablet.Miles headed back to the bedroom trying to figure out why the area had made him feel so on edge.He stepped inside again and eyed the place.The bed was unmade, and the room just had thefeelof being heavily used.But there were no personal artifacts of any kind.He looked under the bed, checked the closet, and even looked behind the bedroom door as it stood open to see if anything was hidden between the door and the wall.
And that’s where he saw it.
