With pistol in one hand, he unbuttoned his jeans with the other, then pogoed on alternate legs toward the bedroom, pulling off his jeans as he went. He left them on the floor and switched on the lamp. His duffel bag was on the bed. He returned his pistol to it and took out his computer and the stained original manuscript—bless Pam’s heart. He carried them into the living area and hurriedly staged his workspace.

Out on the street, flashing lights created fuzzy streaks of color in the mist. The siren wailed down as the police car wheeled into the Fords’ driveway and came to a jerky stop. Both doors opened.

Drex rushed back into the bedroom, stripped off his shirt, put on the fake eyeglasses, toed off his shoes, and grabbed the duffel by the strap. As he did, he spotted his FBI ID wallet lying at the bottom of the canvas bag.

He stopped to consider. He could use it now and, damn, it was tempting. But if he did, he would be blown. He couldn’t revert to being the hapless writer cum gigolo. It was a dilly of an ace, but if he played it too early, he stood to lose the big pot: Jasper Ford.

He zipped up the duffel bag and shoved it into the closet. He then dashed into the living area and took a beer from the fridge. He twisted off the cap and poured half down the sink, then took the bottle with him to the table where he set it beside his laptop. He dropped into the chair, dry scrubbed the sweat off his face, and tried to appear tormented by writer’s block.

As it turned out, he had plenty of time to catch his breath. It was five minutes before he heard them clumping up the stairs. He let them get halfway up, then scraped back his chair and ambled over to the door, arriving at the screen door the same time they did.

Looking back at him was a pair of patrol officers, the patches on their uniform sleeves designating the Mount Pleasant police department. Young. Crisp. And looking surprised to be greeted by a man in just his underwear.

Drex pretended to realize only then his state of undress and looked abashed. “Sorry, guys. What’s going on?”

“What’s your name?” officer number one asked.

“Drex Easton.”

“You live here?”

Drex shot the room behind him a deprecating glance. “It’s a roof. I’ve rented it for three months.” He explained about the Arnotts. “Do you want to come in or…” He let the invitation trail to nothing.

But they took him up on it, came inside, and looked around.

“You live here alone?” number two asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s that?” Number one pointed to the manuscript.

“First novel.”

“You’re a writer?”

Grimacing, Drex said, “Not according to the heap of rejection letters.”

Number one chuckled. Number two asked, “Do you know the people in the house across the way?”

“The Fords? Sure. We’ve hung out.”

“Their security alarm went off.”

Feigning puzzlement, Drex looked toward the house. “I didn’t hear it. When was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago, give or take,” officer number one told him. “Siren didn’t sound. It cut off with the warning beeps. But Mr. Ford has an app on his phone that signals him when the alarm is activated. Since nobody was authorized to go in, like a cleaning lady or something, he called us.”

Drex nodded understanding but held his tongue.

Number two asked, “Have you seen anybody around the neighborhood who looks like they don’t belong?”

“Besides me?” Number one thought that was funny, too. Number two, not so much. Good cop/bad cop. Drex turned serious. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of anybody, and I’ve been here all day. Well, except for a few minutes early this morning. I went out for milk. What did he take?”

“Who?”

“The burglar.”

“Nothing, looks like. No sign of a break-in.”

“Huh. Wonder what set off the alarm. Or maybe that app on Jasper’s phone is faulty.”

“Could be. Because the alarm reset itself.”

Drex rolled his eyes. “Technology, right?”

The two young officers looked at each other and seemed to come to the tacit conclusion that he was harmless. Number two said, “If you see or hear anything peculiar, please notify the department.”

“Sure thing.”

Number one wished him good luck with his novel.

“Thanks. I need it.”

They thanked him for his time, said their good nights, and trooped down the stairs. A minute later, they backed out of the Fords’ driveway and were on their way.

Drex drained the bottle of beer, then picked up his windbreaker from off the chair and fished his cell phone from the pocket.

Gif was beside himself. “I’ve called you a dozen times.”

“I had company.” He told him about his visitors. “If they’d arrived sixty seconds sooner, they would have caught me beating my way back up here. If I’d made a run for it when I first heard their siren, they could have seen me fleeing. False alarm.”

“Close call. You need to get out of there. And I mean the apartment.”

“Have you heard from Mike?”

“He got to the fancy hotel. I told him not to expect the Fords and brought him into the loop. He’s standing by, waiting to see what you want him to do.”

“I don’t have a fucking clue.”

“You need to clear out. This room has two beds. You can bunk here tonight. We’ll discuss options.”

“See you in a few.”

When he showed up at the motel without his belongings, Gif greeted him with exasperation. “Where’s your stuff?”

“I didn’t clear out.”

“We agreed—”

“I didn’t agree.”

“You didn’t disagree, either.”

“I’m hungry. A mile back I passed a place.” Drex turned around and headed for his car. He’d left the engine running. Gif pulled the motel room door shut and followed.

On the way to the restaurant, Gif said, “While I was waiting on you, I took the liberty of calling Mike.”

“Did you interrupt his five-course, prix fixe dinner?”

“He canceled his reservation.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know. Shocked me too. He was in his room, working.”

“Doing what?”

“If the Fords left the airport in the vehicle they arrived in, it would show up on surveillance camera video.”

“That would only prove they left. Wouldn’t tell us where they were going.”

“Mike’s going to look into it anyway.”

The seafood shack was outlined in turquoise and pink neon, and had a sign with a fish jumping out of a skillet. The shrimp was hot out of the deep fryer, and the beer was icy cold. They ate in silence for several minutes before Gif again raised the subject of Drex leaving the apartment.

Drex hadn’t had a change of heart. “If they return to their house, it’ll look better if I’m still there, carrying on as though nothing happened. I replaced the transmitter where Jasper had left it. That’ll be the first thing he checks. He will suspect that it was me who triggered the alarm, but he can’t prove it.”