Page 84 of Mr. Dangerous

I searched the apartment systematically. I knew I was searching in the wake of the criminals who had hurt my father, and I would have to be more thorough than they had because if there was anything easily found, they would have already stepped over Mitch’s body carrying it. If they’d just been after money and valuables it would be obvious from what they’d taken. And if they were aftersomethingelse…

I moved to the sideboard, mechanically sweeping the inside of drawers and underneath the cabinets before the top of the sideboard itself caught my eye. Mitch had photos of us boys in silver frames. One of them showed him kneeling on the deck, an arm around my waist and Nicky’s. I leaned against him, smiling, showing off a smile missing my front teeth. Something twistedinsideme.

Naomi came back into the living room. "I didn't find the key. Or any papers that seem like anything pertinent. But your dad has... a collection. Of sentimentalstuff."

"Nothing matters except the key to the lockbox, laptops, hard drives, USB sticks, that kind of thing." I saidbrusquely.

She hesitated. "All right. I'll go search the kitchen. Maybe he hid something in a bowl or acerealbox."

"Thanks.”

"There's a mirror in there that looks heavy," she said. "You might want to go in and move it, look behind. Icouldn't."

I nodded. She disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the rustle of her at work, opening cabinet doors and searching through every object. Ridiculous. Couldn't Mitch have trusted his kids with whatever his secrets were, so that we didn't have to search in his wake through pots and cereal boxes for a reason for someone to try tokillhim?

I finished the living room and went into the bedroom. The oak closet doors stood open, the clothes subtly disarranged, as if someone had searched the inside of each jacket. The shelf that ran along the top of the closet was empty, and the boxes that must have once filled it were instead on the bed, the tops in a pile on the thick carpet. I expected to see files, but the boxes were full of stuff. I frowned, trying to make sense of what looked like a yard sale in boxes: baseball mitts worn to gray at the center, yearbooks, birthdaycards.

I pulled out a card with balloons on the front, and suddenly I was eight years old again. Joe was with me. We’d stopped at the drug store when Joe was driving me home from Little League."This one," I'd told Joe. "Can we get Dad a real balloon too? Just like this one?" Joe had put a hand on my shoulder, hugging me. "Sure. Your dad loves balloons, just like you."Of course, the memory was of Joe; I didn't remember giving Mitch the card. I would have assumed that he threwitaway.

But he hadn't. These boxes of crap were my crap, Liam's, Josh's, Nicky's. I thumbed quickly through it, some of the items bringing up strong memories. It must have all carried a memory for Dad, something that reminded him of a time with his young sons. I bit my lip against a sudden tide of emotion. Why the fuck hadn't Mitch done anything with this sentiment when it still would have mattered? When we could have tried again to have a relationship as a father andason?

Back to work. I could worry about my father and my father's feelings and my father’s awful legacy when I had time, when everyone was safe. I slapped a lid down on top of one of theboxes.

But a book in one of the bins caught his eye. A kids' book.The Boys' Handbook of Treasure-Hunting, Code-Breaking and Adventure-Seeking.I didn't remember it from childhood, so maybe it had been a gift for the younger boys. I plucked it out of the bin, rifling through the pages, looking for a key taped amidst it. But there wasnothing.

Still, a thread of doubt made me decide to keep the book. Justincase.

"Rob?" Naomi stood in the doorway, her eyes on me worried, although she glanced around at the pile-up of sentimentality without saying anything. "I found a leather laptop bag and a docking station for a laptop, but there's no computer in theapartment."

"I think I should talk to my father's lawyers," I said. "Whoever came after Mitch, I don't think they were just looking for valuables. I think they were looking forinformation."

"Why'sthat?"

I tucked the book under my arm, reluctant to leave the condo behind without answers. "Laptops aren't the easiest thing to steal. They're too easily traced." I glanced around at the mess, fighting a surge of fury. "Beyond that? I have afeeling."

There was an insistent tapping on the front door. Naomi stared at me,wide-eyed.

I held a finger to my lips, gesturing to her to stay put, then moved past her quickly on silent feet. Besides the bedroom doorway, the motion-activated camera feed had turned on above the two-way speaker I could use to communicate with the person at the door. Two men in police uniforms stood at the door. Well, that was both fast, and not fast enough; no one had helped my father. If they were truly the police. I didn't feel like I could trustanyonenow.

I glanced at the door, which was heavy enough for me to think it had a steel core beneath the dark wood, and the reinforced hinges. My father had set the bedroom up as asaferoom.

Why the hell had Mitch felt he needed a safe room, even once he’d retired? He must have seen this endcoming.

"Stay in here," I mouthed to Naomi, touching the latch on the inside of the door. "Lockyourselfin."

There was no way out of the condo except back through that door where the maybe-policewaited.

She nodded. I went quietly down the hall, and she eased the door shut behind me. A tiny bit of stress dropped away as I heard the click of the bolt. At least for now, Naomiwassafe.

I called the security department for the building, which I still had in my phone after demanding an explanation of what had happened to Mitch. Despite having advertised state-of-the-art security, the truth was their physical security was one guy watching the CCTV feed. When Security answered the phone gruffly, I said, "This is Officer Smith at precinct D-4. Trying to make sense of a message here. Did you call us with a possible B&E inprogress?"

"Yeah," the guy sounded aggravated. "I did. You meanthere'sno--"

I hung up on him. Good sign. But just in case, I stood to one side of the front door when I pushed the intercombutton. "Yes?"

"This is the police. Come out with your handsup.Now."

"Yes sir," I said, making my tone easy, already pulling my money clip out of my pocket. "My name's Rob Delaney. This is my father's condo." I unlocked the front door again and stepped out into the hall, still tense for a fight in case things wentsideways.

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