William’s place, always slightly cavernous, looked like a nightclub after a police raid. “William?” Lucy called. No answer from William. The blond passed out on the ping pong table didn’t wake up either, but she was snoring, so she couldn’t be dead. She was asleep on her back with her arms thrown wide. In the event of a water landing, her implants could be used as floatation devices. “William?” Lucy called again. He was face down in his own bed, also snoring, a square whiskey bottle clutched in his arm like a teddy bear. She shook him hard. He stopped snoring for a moment, then started up again. She went to her room, expecting someone to be in her bed. No one was because her futon was on its side. Her drawers had been opened and the contents dumped. All of her things had been taken out of the closet. Brief shock of déjà vu: the whole room looking like her apartment had after Spider’s visit. And the gun was gone.
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