Robin turned the key fob over. She considered what she could learn about a person based on their keys and decided it was not a lot. He was tidy. The keychain only held three keys and two looked like house keys. Front and back door probably. The third key was smaller, maybe for a safe. She turned it over and wondered if Carrel had a gun cabinet.

So, he was tidy. But, also modest. The fob belonged to an Audi. Robin knew Carrel had an annual salary that would allow him to drive a much pricier make. He could easily afford a sports car if he had wanted one.

Leaving the facility, Danny had done a quick sweep between the spot they left Pierce and the perimeter fence. They found where the fence had been cut, and the pilot thought he had a good idea where the car would be located, but when they came up empty, Robin agreed it was because he had either taken the time to hide it or he hiked from further out than they had time to explore.

Driving into Rancho Vista Condos, they found a sleepy, gated subdivision filled with duplex-style condominiums with twin garages at the end of each living unit. Danny took a slow tour of the neighborhood and backed into the driveway of Carrel's home. Robin hopped out and stretched. Her spine popped and cracked as she twisted from side to side and casually looked around at the other houses. The curtain in the picture window of the neighboring condo twitched, but when she took another look, all was still.

Lemons and bleach assaulted her nose as Robin unlocked the door and stepped inside Carrel's home. Someone had been there recently and done heavy duty cleaning. Maybe the neighbor. Or the association, after hearing Carrel had been arrested. Not Mav security, because then she wouldn't need to be there.

As Robin walked through the home, she made mental notes about what would need to be accomplished during their hour inside. It was going to be an easy job. Carrel was a minimalist. He had framed art on the walls and soft throw rugs underfoot, but little furniture and no bric-a-brac. It was a bachelor pad, though Robin could see where a woman's touch had brought splashes of color and texture to a room that was otherwise decorated with dark hues and hard edges.

A light switched on automatically when Robin opened a door off the kitchen and stepped into the garage. Parked in the space farthest from the door was a shiny new Range Rover.

"So much for knowing the man by the keys that he keeps," she murmured.

She pressed a button on the keypad and opened the garage. The van backed into the free space and two men climbed out. They followed her into the kitchen carrying empty boxes.

She took one of the boxes from the men. "You can leave the kitchen, living room and office to me. Concentrate on the bedrooms. Go through closets, under the beds, and inside dressers. Every piece of paper needs to be filed in a box. Try to leave the rooms in the same neat condition you find them. If you find a safe, check contents. Paper can be filed into a box, but if there are weapons, just put it in the van as is."

They didn't really need guidance. They had done sanitations with her in the past and knew what was expected, but it helped her focus on her own tasks when she verbalized the items to be completed.

Robin walked to the office. It would be the most time-consuming room in the condo and, if she took too long, the men would tackle the kitchen and living room with no further instructions.

Like all the other rooms she passed through, the office was clean. Everything was in its place. Everything except a framed print of a bright, yellow sunflower. The picture sat at the base of the wall missing the glass in its frame.

Papers were stacked in a neat pile on the desk. Some were crinkled as if they had been crumpled, and then haphazardly ironed out. The cable to the keyboard hung off the side of the desk running past a picture of a bride and groom.

Robin set the box aside and picked up the picture. She gazed into the smiles of Carlos Carrel and his glowing young bride. It grounded her. The invasion felt personal, even if he were no longer living. It reminded her to be respectful in the face of her task.

The pile of papers on the desk patiently waited for attention. Flipping through the stack, she saw medical reports and charts. Some were labeled Leslie Carrel, while others had Leslie Loomis printed across the top. Robin would have placed money that they were both the same woman. She looked at the young bride gazing up into the eyes of her groom. The documents went into the box.

The cable to the keyboard was bent like it had been stepped on. With a little effort, she worked it into the socket where it belonged. The computer turned on with a beep and stopped at a login screen. "CCarrel" was listed in the User field, while the cursor blinked, awaiting a password. Robin looked around the room. Her eyes stopped on the framed wedding photo.

She typed in "Leslie." The computer beeped.

No clues were under the keyboard or in the top center drawer of the desk. Tidy. Still, people were predictable.

She reached into her front pocket where she had a small thumb drive. It had a password recovery application that she had rarely needed to use. People were predictable. Her eyes roamed the room again. The only bit of color in the otherwise somber room rested on the floor.

She typed sunflower.

"Bingo," she said aloud.

The computer proceeded to the desktop view with another picture of the Carrels. The magnificence of the Grand Canyon swept away behind their smiling faces.

Robin clicked on the Start button and found a folder with shortcuts to recently accessed files. She clicked a handful, but they all indicated the files were no longer available. The properties showed they had been on a device with removable storage. In the Documents directory, she found a folder named Research. Opening a handful of files, she discovered they were spreadsheets or documentation too technical for her to understand. Central could review the contents and decide what to wipe or keep. She shut down the computer.

The filing drawer on the desk stuck when she pulled to open it. When she put her weight into it, the drawer opened with a groan. It was stuffed full of files. Starting from the back, she casually flipped through them before dropping them into a box. The last folder had newspaper clippings, and she slowed to take a longer look when the name George Emory caught her eye.

The article was two days old and showed a picture of a man standing next to a small plane. A pilot for 17 years, he had been in an accident while taking off in his Cessna. Robin flipped the article over and scanned the next one. Marybeth Clemson, survived by two teen daughters, smiled from a large five by seven professional photo. A smaller inset photo showed her car after it had skidded off the road one stormy night and crashed into a utility pole.

Robin leafed through the articles, skimming the words and glancing at the photos. There were over twenty articles, all telling a tragedy of one sort or another. Near the back of the folder, the name Maverick BioScience popped out in a title, and she stopped scanning to read a full paragraph. The person in the article, a Dr. Weston James, was a former coworker of Robin's though she didn't recognize him.

Dr. Weston James had been a researcher at Maverick BioScience for eight years. He had a degree in Genetics from Harvard Medical School and had won several awards for Genomic Technology. Dr. Weston James, his wife, and their two children had disappeared off the coast of California after alerting the Coast Guard that their sailboat was sinking.

With a sick feeling, she returned to the first clipping and read each of them more slowly. Six articles referenced Maverick BioScience as the employer of the deceased.

Robin jumped when one of the men tapped lightly on the frame of the door. "Sorry, Robin, we found a small safe. No key."

She looked at him over her shoulder and fished into her pocket. The keys jangled as she tossed them to him without looking. "Try these. How are we on time?"

"We're close."

"I'll be right there. You can take this box. Bring me a couple more. I haven't finished the filing cabinet." She put the lid on the box and shoved it in his direction. "Thanks."

He walked over and picked up the box. Robin grabbed the printer from the desk and set it on the box before he turned to leave. It only took a moment to unplug the computer and wrap the cables. The two men came back and worked silently, one removing the computer while the other emptied the filing cabinet.

Robin finished filling her box and put the lid on it. "Safe?"

"Birth certificates, passports, marriage license." The men picked up the last box and the computer and walked out.

She glanced out the door, and then slipped the folder with the news clippings into the waistband of her pants. Her suit jacket fell into place and concealed the folder, and the last known remnants of Carlos Carrel's personal research were taken to the van.