They made their way across the half-finished patio.The pavers here were loose, and they moved underfoot, clicking against each other and threatening to make Tean roll his ankle.As they approached the rear of the house, Jem pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on.Tean copied the movement.He aimed the beam at the broken window, and on the other side, he could see a bare room with what looked like an exercise ball, a beach wagon piled with pool toys, and a bike with a flat tire.
“Okay so far,” Jem whispered.He was turning his wrist, and the paracord he wore looped there as a bracelet began to unwind.The hex nut at the end spun and swung and gleamed where it caught the light.“Stay a few feet behind me, okay?”
Tean nodded, but then he realized Jem couldn’t see the gesture, so he whispered, “Okay.”
Jem started forward.
The door to the sunroom was unlocked, but it didn’t open easily—either the doorframe had warped, or the floor, or both, because after Jem pushed it open a few inches, it caught on the worn linoleum—deep scratches showed where the door had been forced back and forth too many times.Jem gave it a shove, and it shrieked as it was forced across the vinyl.
Jem’s eyes were flat with displeasure.His mouth gave a little twist, and he whispered, “Honey, I’m home.”
The door from the sunroom into the house was locked.Jem took out the keys Amy had given them and worked one into the lock.This door opened more smoothly, and Tean rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, in case—
But nothing.
Nothing at all.
On the other side, the deeper darkness was broken by the blue of a digital clock and the outline of an opening that connected to a room at the front of the house, where ambient light filtered in from the street.
Jem hesitated a moment, his hand still on the doorknob.Then he stepped forward, flashing the beam from side to side.His ROOS squeaked on the vinyl flooring, and Tean’s own steps sounded too loud as he followed.
They stood in a kitchen.Like the rest of the house, it looked like it had been done on the cheap: a single stretch of cabinets with a chipped laminate countertop; a freestanding electric range and fridge; vinyl flooring meant to look like checkerboard tile, now stained and scuffed.The only thing that might have been new was a microwave on an Ikea cart.No food smells, Tean noticed.
With a motion of the flashlight, Jem indicated for Tean to follow.He ducked his head through the opening that led to the front of the house and then pointed to a hallway leading off the kitchen.Tean spared the opening a quick glance—it looked like the living room, with windows fronting the street—and then he went after Jem.
Three doorways stood along the hall.All three were open.Jem shone the flashlight through the first one, paused, and then continued.He repeated the process at the second doorway.Reflected light told Tean this was probably the bathroom.At the third doorway, Jem stopped again, shining his flashlight into the room beyond.Then some of the tension in his body relaxed, and he glanced at Tean.
Tean moved to join him.The first room was a bedroom that had been turned into a home office: a glass-topped desk, a computer tower and monitor, a boom mic, and piles of paper.The sliding closet doors had been taken off their tracks, and the closet had been turned into a set of built-in shelves.Tean’s guess about the next doorway had been correct: a tiled bathroom with a mirrored medicine cabinet on the wall.The shower curtain was pulled back, and the most dangerous thing Tean saw was the tension-mounted shower shelving that was clearly overloaded with body washes and gels and shampoos.The final room, where Jem still stood, was Amy’s bedroom: oak-veneer furniture that had been sponge-painted a seafoam green; a bed that was made, although not neatly, with the kind of ruffled bedding Tean remembered had once been a trend; and alotof clothes.Clothes hanging from rolling racks.Clothes in vacuum-compressed bags that poked out from under the bed.Clothes still with tags draped over the arm of a reading chair.
The closet door was shut.
Jem pointed at Tean and mimed opening the door.Then he pointed at himself and mimed clobbering someone.
Tean swallowed again; his throat was dry enough to crack, but he nodded.
Every step he took across the bedroom made too much noise.His Keens thudded on the rug.Floorboards squeaked and creaked.Ten feet.Then five feet.There was no way this was going to be a surprise.If someone hadn’t heard them force open the sunroom door, if someone hadn’t heard them making their way through the house, there was no way they hadn’t heard him clomping across the bedroom.
He made himself count down.
Three.
Wipe his hands on his jeans.
Two.
Shift his weight.
One.
He yanked the door open and threw himself to the side.
Silence.
Nothing.
Jem’s voice had a ragged laugh behind it as he said, “Good.All good.Nothing there.”
Nothing, Tean saw a moment later—his heart still pounding in his chest—except more clothes.
