Matheus paused outside Quin’s room. Slowly, he turned the doorknob, holding the latch back as he pushed open the door.
Quin lay on his side in the center of his bed, half of his face mashed into a pillow, arms pulled in tight to his chest.
“Quin,” whispered Matheus. No response. Matheus tried again, a little louder. Quin continued his lack of acknowledgement. “I’m going to go look for Milo. If that’s okay with you, keep being dead.” He waited a second. “Right, still dead.”
Matheus shut the door.
He sprinted up to the third floor, poking his head into each room. A soft whir came from the master bedroom. Matheus opened the door. A blast of cold air stung his cheeks. A pane had been removed from the window. A bank of computers sat against the wall, triple monitors glowing grey.
Matheus walked in, stepping over the bands of wires crisscrossing the floor. The middle monitor asked for a password, but the stack of files next to the keyboard did not. Matheus opened the top file and skimmed down the first sheet of paper. It looked like a building permit for a facility not far from there. The next page had the same form, photocopied from the original, but in a different handwriting. Matheus rifled through the papers. Building permits, all submitted by different people, for various locations. He pushed aside the first file and opened the second: real estate listings. Some papers had only the specs of the building, but others had what looked like financial records stapled onto them. Matheus’ eyes widened. Credit card numbers, bank accounts, social security numbers, mother’s maiden names, all in plain black ink. An identity thief’s wet dream.