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nylon cord with a handle at the end. He grabbed it, then fixed Felicia with a hard look.
    ‘Be ready,’ he said.
    ‘Go,’ she replied.
    He gave the cord a hard yank. A loud groan filled the air, and a fall-down staircase descended from the ceiling, bringing with it a cloud of dust and particles of sawdust. Once the staircase was resting on the main floor, Striker gave Felicia the nod, and he started up the stairs. The angle was steep, and the wood was old and rickety, but he continued up. Ten steps later, he was standing in the entrance of the attic.
    It was dark and dusty, cold and quiet.
    He shone his flashlight at every corner. Saw no one there. But on the east side of the attic, he spotted the window with the broken shutter. The sight of it excited him, and he started that way, then stopped. He slowed himself down, took a moment to assess the area. He shone his flashlight across the wall and saw nothing of interest. Then he aimed the beam at the floor. What he saw there made him pause. By the base of the window, in the dust, were two sets of markings. They were faint and faded and indistinct, but they were definitely there.
    Felicia joined him in the attic entranceway and took note of the tracks in the dust. ‘What do you think they’re from?’ she asked.
    Striker dropped into a squat position and studied the markings. Two one-inch trails, perfectly parallel.
    ‘Suitcase maybe. A stand. A generator. I’m not sure.’
    He stood up, stepped to the side of the markings, and approached the window. As he neared it, he looked down and across the way. Directly below was the beginning of the vacant lot. Directly across the way was the Lucky Lodge.
    ‘You got your monocular on you?’ he asked.
    Felicia nodded. ‘Always.’ She fished it out of her pocket, a token from her surveillance days.
    Striker had always planned on getting one himself. He took the monocular from Felicia and used it to look across the way. The scope zeroed in on Mandy Gill’s room – a perfect unobstructed view. He could see her kitchenette, the doorway to the hall, the doorway to the bathroom and then Mandy herself, dead in the chair.
    Noodles was still on scene gathering evidence.
    For surveillance of unit 303, there was no better position.
    Striker handed the monocular back to Felicia and turned on his flashlight. He swept the beam around the window, but saw no prints of possible value. Lastly, he illuminated the broken glass and shutter, again looking for fingerprints. He found none, but what he did find was equally telling. He reached out through the window frame and picked up a shard of broken glass. Stuck to it was a small strip of black material.
    Felicia made an excited sound. ‘Is it leather?’ she asked.
    Striker nodded. He dropped the evidence, shard and all, into a paper bag, marked it, and carefully pocketed it. Then he turned around and found Felicia’s eyes.
    ‘Tape everything off?’ she asked.
    ‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘There’s no doubt about it. He was here.’

Ten
    Ten minutes later, Noodles had made his way over to the attic and was now taking pictures and bagging samples. He stood up awkwardly in the low-ceilinged attic, and rubbed his lower back, all the while complaining about it.
    ‘You guys’ll have me here till the early morning light,’ he griped.
    ‘You’re breaking my heart,’ Striker said.
    ‘Like you have one.’
    Striker let the banter go, and mentally went over what they had. The entire building was taped off now, with patrol cops stationed as guards at the front and back of the residence.
    Striker left the scene under the command of Sergeant Mike Rothschild – an experienced old-schooler who had been one of Striker’s first NCOs many years ago.
    Striker and Felicia returned to the car. After Striker hopped in the driver’s side, Felicia slammed the passenger-side door closed and bit her lip. ‘Foul play is looking more and more reasonable,’ she said.
    Striker shifted in his seat. The leather