See Jack Die (PART 3) HTML version

We walk into my apartment and right off the bat, the very second we open the door, I know
something is not right. I stop in my kitchen, and Ricky can sense that I'm picking-up on something.
“What is it, Jack?”
I don't know, I tell him. I look around my kitchen, then my eyes focus farther out into my small
apartment living area, and beyond. At first glance everything seems fine. But I have a feeling
Ricky whispers, “Spooks?”
No, I say as I take a step forward. I think somebody has been in here. Looking around.
Then we both glance at each other and simultaneously we say, “The book!”
Quickly we both race into the living room, and over to the shelves near my bed where our fake
bookshelf is hiding in plain sight. It's still there, not moved an inch.
Ricky bends down, looking back and forth over his shoulder before he does the combination.
“Maybe we should search the rest of the apartment before we check.”
Good idea, I nod to him.
Then, like super-silent ninjas we both creep our way over to the short hallway leading to my
bathroom and washroom. Like stealth secret agents we line-up on both sides of the bathroom door. We
trade nods.
On 3, I mouth to him.
1 . . .
2 . . .
3! Both of us spring into action, me turning the door knob, and him kicking it open. “Freeze!” I
yell, feeling just like Horatio on CSI: Miami. But there's nobody in the bathroom accept us two
Ricky and I laugh at our over-paranoid reactions and I notice him looking down at my sink basin.
His eyes, they go back and forth between my two soaps.
My aromatherapy soaps.
“Jack . . . what are those?”