Harry eyed her suspiciously, “Talk?”

Claire exhaled. “Oh, come on. You have more questions than you’re politely asking. I think we need to be honest about what’s going on.”

“I thought we were.”

Claire exhaled. “Please, I need to tell you a few things.”

“Maybe I don’t want to hear them.” Harry waved at the security guard as he pulled the Mustang into the underground parking garage. “Hey, there’s a van in your spot.” Harry noticed as they wove around to his assigned parking spot. “I don’t remember seeing that before. I could call...” He hesitated, “or maybe you should call security and have it moved.”

Claire didn’t care about the stupid van. She wouldn’t have her car back from the airport until tomorrow. “If it’s here in the morning I will. It’s probably someone’s guest who doesn’t know about the assigned spots.” She looked at his light blue eyes, “Please, can we order some delivery and talk?”

“Yeah, fine.” He got out of the car and began removing her bags from his trunk. “My place or yours?”

Claire pulled the smaller bag, while Harry pulled the larger. Stepping into the elevator she replied, “How about yours?” She reasoned it would be easier for her to leave if things got too uncomfortable. “I’ll take my bags in and freshen up. Then I’ll be over.”

“Don’t forget, your room’s a mess.”

She had forgotten. There were too many things competing for space in her head. “Oh yeah, I’ll do a quick inventory and let you know if I think anything else is missing.”

Harry walked Claire to her door and let go of her large suitcase. “Are you sure you’re okay seeing your room by yourself?”

Claire shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why don’t you call for some food?” She thought a moment as she unlocked her door, “Just no sushi, all right?”

Harry’s blue eyes squinted, allowing his amazingly long lashes to linger near his cheeks, and his head tilted to the side. “But you like sushi,” seeing her wrinkled nose he asked, “How about Chinese?”

She nodded. “Chinese sounds great. Extra rice,” she added with a smile.

*****

Parked across the street from 365 Forest Avenue in his nondescript grey Camry, Phillip watched the lights turn on in the large windows on the fourth floor. He typed the text message while engaging his laptop. MS NICHOLS ARRIVED TO CONDO. NO STOPS ON WAY. He checked his laptop. The sensors would indicate if only her apartment opened or if both hers and Mr. Baldwin’s opened. The sensors were new, but with the recent break-in and an unlimited budget, no piece of technology was beyond his scope.

There must be something wrong with his sensors. Yes, Claire’s door just opened and now Mr. Baldwin’s door opened. However, the data indicated Claire’s door also opened twenty minutes ago. Phillip’s heart raced as he looked up toward the windows. He pulled out his phone; Mr. Rawlings answered on the first ring. Common pleasantries disappeared, “I just read my sensors. She’s in her unit and it was opened twenty minutes ago.” Phil’s voice came with deep breaths as he raced across the street.

Ignoring Mr. Rawlings’ bellowing voice, Phil hastily entered Claire’s building and approached the security desk, “Has anyone been to unit 4 A recently?” The security guard looked at Phil questionably. Phil repeated himself louder, “The unit that was broken into last week? Has anyone been up there?” Phil could still hear Mr. Rawlings yelling through the phone.

“Yes, there was a delivery. The man had the appropriate documents.”

Phil revealed the picture he’d sent Mr. Rawlings, “Is this the man?”

The security guard looked at the picture, “I don’t know. He had documents. Yeah, maybe... he was bald.”

“Call 911 and get me up there right away!” Phil’s voice rose above Mr. Rawlings’.

*****

Tony could hear everything and do nothing. How long would it take to get up four flights? He disconnected from Phillip Roach and scrolled his contacts, finding Harrison Baldwin. He hit call.

*****

Claire pulled her luggage into the foyer. She’d forgotten about her room being a mess. Maybe Tony didn’t have anything to do with it. If that were the case, she was glad she’d been out of town when it happened. Suddenly, she wished Amber were home.

Turning on lights, she headed toward the kitchen. Even though Harry was calling for dinner, she thought a little snack might help her nerves before she faced her wrecked room and their conversation. She watched as the overhead lights flooded the living room and darkened the outside world beyond the large windows.

Which occurred first, the sound of his footsteps or sensing his presence? Claire’s heart raced as she spun around. She recognized the man immediately -- Patrick Chester, the neighbor from Santa Monica. In an attempt to hide her panic, she feigned indignation, “What are you doing in my house?”

He walked toward her, his beady eyes narrowing while his smile widened.

She repeated her question, “What are you doing in my house? Get out!”

He continued forward. She backed toward the windows and assessed an escape. If she ran through the kitchen, could she get back to the door and out before him?

“You made me think you’re Anton’s daughter.” Patrick laughed. The menacing sound made the hairs on the back of Claire’s neck prickle. “You’re not his daughter unless that’s what they call whores who seduce Sugar Daddy’s!” His volume rose with each word.