
The windows faced the street. Even though the sky was overcast, the light was excellent. Under the windows a long worktable held Erin ’s supplies neatly placed side by side: torch, hand drill, files and pliers, ring clamps and spring tweezers, soldering block, gauges, drills. Darcy had always been fascinated to watch Erin at work, her slender fingers skillfully handling delicate gems. Next to the table was Erin ’s one extravagance, a tall chest with several dozen narrow drawers. A nineteenth-century pharmaceutical cabinet, the bottom drawers were a facade concealing a safe. One easy chair, a television, and a good stereo system completed the pleasant room.
Darcy’s immediate impression was a surge of relief. There was nothing out of order here. Gus Boxer at her heels, she walked swiftly into the tiny kitchen, a small windowless cubicle that they’d painted a bright yellow and decorated with framed tea towels.
The narrow hallway led to the bedroom. The pewter and brass bed and a two-on-three dresser were the only furniture in the closet-sized room. The bed was made. There was nothing out of place.
Clean, dry towels were on the rack in the bathroom. Darcy opened the medicine chest. With a practiced eye, she noted that Erin ’s toothbrush, cosmetics and creams were all there.
