Nick recognized a street sign through the haze of last night’s memories. Sure that he had walked the same avenue, he checked the map on his phone and stopped a stranger, who pointed him in the right direction and helped him find Hunt’s apartment. The iron front door creaked as he forced it open; he crept upstairs and entered the apartment holding the doorknob almost as tightly as his breath.

The common room was empty, but the couch’s pillows were neatly aligned. Straightened picture frames adorned the wall and the floor had been cleaned. Glass clattered in the kitchen as beer bottles were tossed into the trash. The kitchen faucet turned on and water splashed in the sink.

Nick closed the door gently, tiptoeing inside; he banged his knee on the corner table and an empty beer bottle crashed on top of scattered coins. He cursed, grabbed the bottle, and marched into the kitchen…