I went up the stairs. Stopped at the first door, which was not Ash’s apartment. I considered knocking, to see if anybody was in there, and if nobody was, going through that apartment so I could use the hallway door to get into Ash’s place. But the advantages of that were outweighed by the disadvantage of somebody possibly answering the door, and getting a good look at me, which is the reason I avoided going in the front door in the first place. After all, while I didn’t necessarily plan to kill Ash, I didn’t necessarily plan not to, either.

So I went on to the next, final door. Ash’s door. Unsnapped my jacket. Put my right hand on the butt of the gun.

And knocked.

Nothing.

And knocked again.

Nothing.

When I tried once more and still got no response, I laid my ear against the door and listened.

Nothing. Not a damn thing.

Meaning he wasn’t in there.

Probably.

Of course, if he was in there, he was being awfully silent, which meant he was dead, or waiting. And if he was waiting, waiting for me, I could be dead. In a hurry.

I took a breath. Did some thinking.

Now, I knew that Ash was like me, as far as safety precautions were concerned. That is to say, he just didn’t bother with them. No fancy locks or burglar alarms or anything of the sort, just his own finely honed senses. If I remembered right, there wasn’t even a safety chain on the door. You could open it with a credit card.

So I did.

Very carefully, though. Once the lock clicked, I flattened against the side of the house, nudging the door with a foot, letting it swing open without filling the way with my own body-size target, and waited for Ash to react, if he was going to.

Nothing.

I went in low and quick, gun in hand, keeping the light from outside to my back, not easing the door shut behind me till I had a chance to scan the room, finding it empty.