I half expect Adam to be in his future bedroom, going through the dressers or something, but it’s empty. I shut the door behind me and scan the room. Where do rich people hide their safes? I search around the place quickly but don’t see anything that could hold a safe.

I sink down onto the bed, suddenly so tired I can barely move. It’s been about ten hours since we got to the future. Even though it’s only 4:41 p.m. here, to our internal clocks it’s after midnight. I’ve never been out of California, but I bet this is what jet lag feels like. I’d love to just lie down and pass out until it’s time to get back to the aperture. Let someone else figure out what’s going on—I’m exhausted.

But there’s no one else. I’m the only one who can stop these murders.

As I stand, I spot my reflection in the silver-edged mirror on the wall. That’s it! The mirror. That’s why the numbers were in that sequence. I rush over and peer behind the frame. There’s definitely something back there.

I grab the mirror and yank it off the wall. A small metal box is embedded underneath with a keypad on it. My heart races as I enter the numbers and the safe pops open.

Inside is a thick folder. Nothing else.

I flip the folder open and find page after page of information on each of our murders. This must be everything Future-Adam collected on our deaths. Police and autopsy reports. Crime scene photos. News articles. It’s all here.

I go through each page, soaking up everything like a sponge. Trent was killed first, with his time of death estimated between 3:00 p.m. and 4:30 p.m. His body was found in a dumpster, but he was killed in an abandoned building nearby where he’d been squatting. Zoe died next, between 4:30 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. in her girlfriend’s apartment, just like her sister said. No signs of forced entry. Chris is the third victim, shot two blocks from the auto repair shop where he works, between 8:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.

I’m last in the folder. My body was found on the beach, partially submerged in salt water, which washed away both fingerprints on the gun and gunshot residue on my hands. I had some injuries, but they thought they were from fighting with the others. And one bullet to the head, from close proximity. My mother’s watch cracked from the impact of the gunshot, freezing it at 11:38 p.m. That’s how they knew my exact time of death.