Brett Battles: The Collected

He smiled, hoping to relax her a bit. “When you first came into the house, did you find anything unusual?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

“Have you moved anything?”

“Some soap in the bathroom.” A pause. “A glass in the kitchen. That’s it. Oh, and I lay on Nate’s bed for a little bit. But I didn’t put anything away, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“The gym?”

“I only looked in. I didn’t touch anything.”

Quinn looked around. “Where are your bags?”

“Just one bag, a carry-on. It’s down in Nate’s room. I can go get it if you want.” She started to stand.

“It’s all right,” Orlando said, putting her hands gently on Liz’s shoulders and easing her back down. “It’s not important.”

Quinn knelt in front of his sister. “You’re doing good. This is helping. Now I need you to do me a favor.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Orlando and I are going to check around the house, see if Nate left something that’ll help us contact him. I’d like you to stay right here. All right?”

“I…I can help,” she said.

“I know you can. But it’ll go faster if only Orlando and I do it. We know what we’re looking for.”

She stared at him, her eyes pleading for something to do.

“He’s right,” Orlando said calmly. “The most important thing right now is to let us do what we do best.”

Liz took in a deep breath. As she let it out, she nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I just…” She pressed her lips together for a moment, then said, “I’ll wait here.”

“Thank you,” Orlando said.

“If you need me, though, let me know.”

Quinn gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and rose to his feet. “We will.” As they walked out of the living room, he whispered to Orlando, “Downstairs first.”

Though Nate had basically taken over Quinn’s house, he had not claimed the master bedroom. It was still occupied by Quinn’s furniture and belongings.

Nate’s room was the largest of the guest bedrooms. The only addition to the furniture that had already been there-the bed, dresser, and two nightstands-was a small wooden table in the corner Nate must have been using as a desk. On top of the table were a laptop power cord, a pad of paper, and a pen.

Quinn ran his fingers over the pad, checking for indentations made by the pen. Nothing, just as he had expected. Nate had been trained better than to do something that stupid.

“Where does he keep his computer?” Orlando asked.

Quinn shook his head. “Don’t know.”

“What about when you were living here?”

“I never asked him. That was his business. Maybe he put it-”

“Please tell me he wouldn’t have taken it with him.”

“Absolutely not. He would have taken a field computer.” Leaving your main computer at home base, and taking ones you could afford to lose when you traveled was standard procedure. Something both Quinn and Orlando did without a second thought.

“What about data backup?” she asked. “Was he using your system?”

“He was before, so I assume he still is. You want to try to see if you can access his backup while I search for the computer?”

She was already headed for the door before he even finished speaking. “If you find it, bring it up.”

“Really? I thought maybe I’d just sit down here and play Solitaire on it for a while first.”

She paused in the doorway. “Solitaire? You couldn’t have said something like Halo? Or Call of Duty ? Or even, I don’t know, Tetris?”

“Weren’t you on your way to do something?”

She grunted a “huh” and disappeared into the hallway.

The first thing Quinn did was run his fingers underneath the desk to make sure there wasn’t a hidden compartment. He then methodically searched the rest of the room for potential laptop hiding spots. He removed drawers from the dresser, checked the mattress and box springs, and even looked for any structural changes his former apprentice might have made to the room, but he came up dry.

Next, he entered the small walk-in closet. Inside were shirts and jackets and sweaters and several boxes filled with the stuff Nate had moved in from his old apartment. Quinn looked through each box, patted down the clothing, and felt along the shelf that ran around the top. Still no computer.

Though he was frustrated, he was also pleased that Nate hadn’t just left it someplace easy to find.

Okay, then. Where?

He scanned every corner of the closet, and did the same in the bedroom.

Not in here, apparently .

He thought for a moment. If it were him, he would have simply used one of the three secured safety boxes he’d built seamlessly into the walls. One was in his bedroom, one in the gym, and one upstairs just off the living room. Even if someone were able to figure out where they were located, and dislodge the small wall portions covering them, there was still each safe’s door. If the correct code was not input on the touch screen the very first time, the contents would be flash fried, rendering anything inside-especially a computer-worthless.

Quinn had only shown Nate the hiding place upstairs, and had never given him his code. He probably should have done that. Nate was the one living here now, after all. It would have made sense for him to stick his computer in a space that was designed to protect it.

Quinn walked into the hallway, and looked first one way, then the other.

I’m Nate. So I’d put my computer …

He looked left again, back toward his room and the stairs.

I’d put it …

He swiveled his head to the right, toward the gym.

I’d put … it’s not possible, right? I mean, he couldn’t have.

Quinn stared at the gym, walked down the hall, and went inside. The safety box in this room was along the baseboard, behind the stationary bike. He pushed in and up on the molding in exactly the right spot, and the board popped away from the wall. Underneath was the safe door with the touch screen embedded in the middle. A tap of his finger brought the screen to life. He input the first number of his code, and immediately stopped. The number had turned green. This was the fail-safe. Since it would only allow a single input before destroying everything inside, the numbers would appear in a specific color. Red meant everything was fine, but if they were green, you were inputting the wrong code.

Son of a bitch , he thought. Nate had actually found the box and changed the code somehow.

After fifteen seconds of no additional numbers being input, the screen reset. This time Quinn tapped in the emergency master code, a string of digits that would open the box one time only. When the door swung open, he reached inside. There were half a dozen passports from different countries, all with pictures of Nate; several small bundles of cash, also from different locations; and a GLOCK 9mm pistol. But no computer.

Quinn went into his bedroom, and quickly discovered that Nate had taken over that safe, too. This one held some documents, and another pistol, but still no computer.

Returning upstairs, he jogged past the living room, and stopped where it transitioned into the kitchen. Orlando was at the breakfast table, her own field laptop open.

“Did you find it?” she asked.

Quinn lowered himself to his knees. “Still looking.”

“Find what?” Liz said from the couch.

“Nate’s computer,” Quinn said, then realized that was one question he hadn’t asked. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Quinn opened the baseboard, and input the master code.

Bingo .

He pulled Nate’s computer out of the safe. “Got it.”