As I held my arms and rubbed
them, I figured being alone would be most useful tonight. On the bright side, it was an opportune time to investigate. I wanted to revisit the portrait in Chris's bedroom and find out why that interesting face kept popping up, reappearing in my mind like an unending daydream.
But when I got to his room, the double doors were locked.
A small device was cleverly camouflaged in the limber of the door, a sort of electronic pad that required a pass code. I bit my lip. There were too many storage facilities and too many banks in America for someone's room to be bolted up like this.