“Look at this,” he said as he fingered the shattered edges of the wallboard. “They opened up the wall here.”

Beyond the ragged opening was a tiny room—a converted closet, really—lined with shelves—empty shelves.

“Looks like some sort of secret library. Did you know about this?”

Alicia, stiff and pale, was standing at the other end of the room, near the door, just over the threshold.

She shook her head. “No.”

What had Clayton kept here? Jack wondered. Research journals and papers? His notes on whatever it is the others are after?

He turned and kicked through the pile of debris. No paper.

“Well, whatever was stored here is gone—either gone when they got here, or they took it with them.” He moved toward Alicia. “Let’s try your room.”

“My room? Why?”

“Well, he left the whole place to you, didn’t he? Maybe he left you something else. Which way?”

Alicia pointed down the hall to a dark doorway. Jack stepped through and found another example of methodical destruction. He pointed to the central pile of debris.

“Recognize anything?”

“No.” Alicia had entered behind him and was stepping gingerly through the room. “Why should I? I left when I was eighteen and haven’t been back.”

“Not once?”

“Not once.”

Something round and shiny black caught Jack’s eye, and he bent to pick it up. A tiny rubber tire.

“Were you into toy cars?” he said, holding it out to Alicia.

She took it from him and stared at it.

“No. Never.”

“Maybe your brother, then.”

“No… Thomas was a couch potato… books, movies, video games. I doubt his interest in cars went beyond the fact that they allowed him to ride instead of walk.” She held the tire up to the light, rolling it over in her fingers. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Somewhere in there, I’d guess,” he said, indicating the pile. “I’m going to check out the bathrooms.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ve got pipes.” At her quizzical look, he added, “I’ll explain as I go.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ll stay here.”

He left Alicia on her knees, picking through the rubble pile.

Jack returned to Clayton’s bedroom, grabbed one of the crowbars, and headed for the master bathroom. One thing you could pretty much count on in these older buildings—unless someone had done a wall-to-wall renovation—was copper plumbing. He’d noticed copper pipes in the kitchen, and metal pipes offered unique opportunities if you wanted to hide something metallic.

A peek into the bathroom showed that the sink and toilet had been ripped out, but the searchers hadn’t chipped off the tile to expose the pipes. Not yet, at least.