Rick followed along like a good cat, not appearing to devote much passion to the proceedings but interested enough to keep going. He looked around Micah's apartment, noted very little that really kept his attention, and then followed him out onto the fire escape. Now it was getting interesting. "This is breaking and entering," he said, unable to keep from grinning at the irony. Rick had done much worse--and so had Micah, apparently. Rick hadn't ever done crime in company before. It was almost fun.
All the lights were off in Iris' apartment. The doors and windows were locked from the inside. There was no evidence of her presence in the kitchen except her keys on the counter. In the bedroom, the sheets were mussed and the bag she never went without was on the floor next to the nighstand, along with a glass of water near-empty. A couple of the books she had mentioned to Ella on nightmares were under the bed. The closet was a tumultuous rainbow of cloth, the bathroom filled with her scent and the faint memory of steam, but the apartment was without occupation or life. Dead silent.
Rick was standing in Iris' living room, hands in his pockets and staring at all the blank walls, when Micah returned. Rick didn't speak Spanish, and he didn't bother pointing that out. Micah sounded pissed though. "What? You find something?" He looked around. "As if there's anything to find," he added, shaking his head at the impersonal living room.