Free The Way Home by Shannon Flagg Page B

well.”
    Houdini pressed his face to hers. He knew that she hadn't been sleeping if she wasn't sleeping with him, before they'd met she said that it was a lucky night if she got three hours. These days, she was sleeping a solid seven, or at least had been. “You're going to sleep great tonight, I promise.”
     
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    The warehouse was in the same shape that Houdini remembered, but it was his room that surprised him. The containers of take-out food were gone, the sheets seemed to be fresh, and he swore that he smelled the faint scent of cigarette smoke in the air.
    “Someone was here, recently.” Susan had been quiet, thoughtful, for most of the ride. “I smell bleach. We should check the other rooms. There are other rooms, right?”
    “There are two more, one just like this and one that's more of an apartment. It's got a little kitchen and en suite bath.” As he mentioned it, inspiration struck Houdini. If they were rebuilding the warehouse, it made completely sense to have someone on site. Who better than he and Susan? “Let's check out the apartment. I think that's the answer to our current living situation. It's getting crowded at Rose's. Come on, we'll check it out and then we'll talk.”             
    She took his hand. It made his heart race, even though it was a small thing. Houdini couldn't be sure this wouldn't be one step forward and two back, which seemed to be their new routine. “There's not even electricity here, Houdini.”
    “There's a generator, and it won't take much to rewire. I could do it in a couple days if I put my mind to it.” Houdini let himself see the possibilities. “The apartment has a separate entrance, so even if we have to tear all this up, we'll be good to get in and out.”
    There was a different lock on the apartment door; it was bright and shiny. It had to be new. It shouldn't have been there. “What now?” Susan asked.
    “Have a little faith,” Houdini reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and dropped down to his knee. “Pretty high end lock, but it's no match for me.”
    “So, that's how you got your nickname.” She leaned against the wall and looked down at him.
    “Pretty much.” He shrugged his shoulders, continued to work. “They had to call me something.”
    “What about your real name?”
    “That's not my name anymore.” He shut his eyes, concentrated on the lock and finally felt the click that he'd been waiting for. He pulled his gun as he rose to his feet, motioned for Susan to stay in the hall as he pushed the door open.
    The apartment was empty. Somehow he'd expected someone would be there, but there was no one, just several clear plastic boxes packed on top of a neatly-made bed. Houdini holstered his gun, moved forward and opened the first box.
    It was packed, neatly, with all of The Viking memorabilia from the conference room and around the warehouse. Everyone had assumed it had been destroyed, and yet here it was with no damage that he could tell. He went through all three boxes, found there was nothing he could think of missing. “I need to call Deke. He needs to see this like right now.”
    “Whoever saved all this obviously knew what it meant to all of you,” Susan stepped into the room. “The bleach smell is coming from the other room, I'll go and check it out while you call Deke. May I? She motioned towards his holstered weapon.
    “Be careful,” he told her. Part of him said to go with her, but he found himself rooted to that spot, his eyes drawn to the things that had represented The Vikings for so long. The pictures alone brought a wave of nostalgia over him, even the ones from before his time. It barely registered when Susan left the room; he just kept digging deeper into the boxes.
    Finally, he did take out his phone and call Deacon, told him to come quickly. If there was ever a good omen for the restart of The Vikings, it was finding this treasure trove. Houdini hung up the phone, realized that Susan