She heard the squeal of a hinge. Either Jesse or Douglas had opened his door. She sat up, ears tuned for any other sound. Distant footsteps drew nearer. It had to be Jesse. She thought he was heading for the bathroom, but the steps went past her and down the back stairs.

Lisa moved to her door. As she reached for the knob, she heard a second set of footsteps. These started closer. From Douglas’s room. He moved even more quietly than Jesse. Mr. Martial Arts. Ninja Warrior. His footfalls faded as he followed Jesse downstairs.

Lisa checked that the hallway was clear and then quickly tiptoed to Jesse’s door. She turned the knob. Unlocked. She opened the door wide enough to see his desk. The laptop and backpack were gone. Lisa hurried to the window in Finch’s room, where she had a view of Ethel’s car in the driveway. Jesse was putting his backpack on the rear seat. Ethel held a thermos and a small picnic basket. She handed them to Jesse, and he set them on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Then Ethel held the car keys out to him. He looked surprised.

Lisa returned to her room and got her own keys and a leather bag she kept ready for unexpected events. Whether Douglas saw her or not, she didn’t care. She knew Rudy Hauser would want her to follow Ethel. That was authority enough for her.

Standing by the Infiniti, Jesse stared at the keys in Ethel’s hand. “You want me to drive?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. There are things I can do along the way.”

“You’ve got the address?”

“Programmed in my phone GPS. ETA is a little before eight. I’m anticipating someone will be at the funeral home by then. According to their website, Walthers is still family-owned. Some of them might even live upstairs.” She tossed him the keys and walked around the car to the passenger door.

Jesse slid behind the wheel. He noticed Ethel had already stuffed a large handbag on the floor beneath her feet. “What else did you bring?”

“I printed out the eight photos Cory sent yesterday. I might need to show them to Susan. She could have seen someone in her neighborhood before the break-in, or worse, someone since she relocated to her sister’s in Fredericksburg.”

“Wouldn’t the Secret Service agent guarding her recognize another agent?”

“Not necessarily. There are over three thousand agents.”

“Not all on the East Coast,” Jesse argued.

“No. But enough that I don’t want to assume one agent would recognize another.” She snapped on her seat belt. “Let’s roll. We can review the case on the road.”