“We didn’t make structural changes.”
“While you were out of town? He never had any ‘repair’ done, anything like that?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Any other pictures?”
“Of me. None of him.”
“Figures. The only one I know of in exis
tence was the one taken on Marian’s yacht. I doubt he knew he was in the shot.”
He asked Talia to check the front of the house. Keeping out of sight, she peered through the louvered blinds. “They’re still there. Just sitting. No other cars on the street.”
Drex, who’d been surveying the Spartan room, noted all the bare shelves. “He doesn’t like clutter, does he?” he asked wryly. “DVDs? Books? Coffee mugs with funny sayings?”
“I told you, he didn’t bring much with him.”
“Yeah, but who doesn’t have stuff?” Then he realized that he didn’t. Mike and Gif were on him all the time about how barren his apartment was. Shaking off the thought that he had anything in common with Jasper, he asked Talia where the attic access was.
“In the garage. A ladder pulls down from the ceiling.”
“No time for that.”
“I need to put some clothes on,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “Wear something dark. Nothing fancy. Comfy.”
“Can I bring some things with me?”
“If you pack them in a bag you can carry in one hand or on your shoulder. Go. I’ll finish in here.”
She rushed out. Aware of the clock, Drex checked the closet but found only a couple of tennis racquets and a pair of swimming flippers, all hanging from the rod by specialized hooks. He tapped the back wall of the closet. It didn’t sound particularly hollow, and even if it were, he didn’t have any way to tear into it. There was nothing on the closet floor, not even a pair of sneakers past their prime.
In frustration over the shortage of time, he gave the room one last scan, then crossed the hall and entered the master suite. Since Talia hadn’t slept in here last night, everything appeared to be exactly as it had been when he’d searched it yesterday. The crystal tray holding Talia’s jewelry was still on her nightstand.
On the outside chance that Jasper had returned undetected, Drex checked his night table drawers again. All were still empty. Underwear, socks, the artistically folded handkerchiefs—nothing had been disturbed in the bureau. Nor had anything in the closet.
Staring into it, Drex muttered, “Fucking whack job.”
“What’s that?” Talia had moved up behind him.
“I was saying this looks exactly like my closet.”
She laughed, but it lacked mirth. “When we first married, I teased him about being such a stickler for order.” She ran her hand along the sleeves of the jackets so precisely hung. Drex figured she enjoyed disturbing the perfection. “Actually I’m surprised he was willing to leave this wardrobe behind,” she said. “He’s so particular about it. He changes it frequently. Almost everything is custom made. He keeps his tailor in business.”
“Custom made for Jasper Ford. Another of his incarnations wore blue jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots. He went horseback riding and fly fishing.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I know a lot more. What I know right now is that we’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
“How do you propose we do it?”
“I have a route out the back.”
“They could see us.”