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“If he was in the field as much as King said, when would he have had the time?”
“Speed-reader?” Remi suggested.
“Possible. What’s in the display cases?”
Sam shone his flashlight on the one nearest Remi’s shoulder. She peered into it. “Clovis points,” she said, referring to the now universal name for spear and arrow tips constructed from stone, ivory, or bone. “Nice collection too.”
In turn, they began checking the rest of the display cases. Lewis’s collection was as eclectic as his library. While there were plenty of archaeological artifacts—pot shards, carved antlers, stone tools, petrified wood splinters—there were pieces that belonged in the historical sciences: fossils, rocks, illustrations of extinct plants and insects, scraps of ancient manuscripts.
Remi tapped the glass of a case containing a parchment written in what looked like Devanagari, the parent alphabet of Nepali. “This is interesting. It’s a reproduction, I think. There’s what looks like a translator’s notation: ‘A. Kaalrami, Princeton University.’ But there’s no translation.”
“Checking,” Sam said, pulling his iPhone from his pocket. He called up the Safari web browser and waited for the 4G network icon to appear in the phone’s menu bar. Instead, a message box appeared on the screen:
Select a Wi-Fi Network
651FPR
Frowning, Sam studied the message for a moment, then closed the web browser and brought up a note-taking application. He said to Remi, “I can’t get a connection. Take a look.”
Remi turned to look at him. “What?”
He winked. “Take a look.”
She walked over and looked at his iPhone’s screen. On it he had typed a message:
Follow my lead.
Remi didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not surprised you couldn’t get a signal,” she said. “We’re in the boondocks.”
“What do you think? Have we seen everything?”
“I think so. Let’s go find a hotel.”
They shut off the lights, then walked out the front door and locked it behind them. Remi said, “What’s going on, Sam?”
“I picked up a wireless network. It’s named after this address: 1651 False Pass Road.” Sam recalled the message screen and showed it to Remi.
“Could it be a neighbor?” she asked.
“No, the average household signal won’t carry beyond fifty yards or so.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Remi said. “I didn’t see any modems or routers. Why would a supposedly abandoned house need a wireless network?”
“I can think of only one reason, and, given who we’re dealing with, it’s not as crazy as it sounds: monitoring.”
“As in, cameras?”
“And/or listening devices.”
“King’s spying on us? Why?”
“Who knows. But now my curiosity is piqued. We have to get back in there. Come on, let’s have a look around.”
“What if he’s got exterior cameras?”
“Those are hard to hide. We’ll keep an eye out.”
Shining his flashlight along the home’s facade and soffit, he walked up the driveway toward the garage. When he reached the corner of the house, he paused and took a peek. He pulled back. “Nothing,” he said. He walked to the garage’s side door and tried the knob. It was locked. Sam took off his windbreaker, balled it around his right hand, and pressed his fist against the glass pane above the knob, leaning hard until the glass shattered with a muffled pop. He knocked the remaining glass shards clear, then reached in and unlocked the door.
