Free My Everything by Julia Barrett

was a logical place to begin.
    Ben carried his untouched coffee to the kitchen and dumped it into the sink, washing the cup and placing it in the plastic dish drainer. He headed out the back door, locking it behind him. He cut through the alleyway and exited at the far end of the block. He crossed the street at the light and entered the apartment building through the rear.
    Ben took the stairs two at a time, climbing to the fourth floor. The hallway was empty. He used his key to unlock the door, and he ducked under the yellow police tape. He closed the door softly behind him and flipped the deadbolt. The apartment was silent and dark, stale and unused. Most of the blinds were still drawn. Tom was supposed to clean the place out, but obviously he never got around to it. Ben stood still for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The place had been dusted for fingerprints, but for the most part, everything was exactly as he’d left it.
    Ben began by walking the perimeter of each room, looking for anything out of place, something different, something that might have been moved by someone other than the police or the feds.
    He’d never bothered to set up an alarm system. The place was bare bones, utilitarian, serviceable. He kept nothing of value here but the gun and a couple of disposable cell phones. The cell phones he’d smashed and tossed before he left. Tom was supposed to come by and pick up the gun. Ben occasionally stored something of value for a client in a safe in the bedroom closet.
    When he’d brought Julie by, it was because he’d had to retrieve some papers from the safe on short notice. He hadn’t wanted to leave her sitting in the car alone. He’d told her the apartment was rented by the agency.
    Whoever broke in did so through the window over the fire escape. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor. Ben squatted next to the frame to get a closer look. Someone had cut himself or herself on a jagged piece of glass. The amount of blood was small. He assumed both the locals and the FBI had taken swabs.
    Ben rose and walked into the single bedroom, heading straight for the closet. The metal box containing the gun was gone. He’d expected that. The door to the safe was intact, but it appeared someone had taken a knife or a screwdriver to it in a futile attempt to open it. The metal was scarred and scraped. Ben had left only one thing inside. He inserted two keys into the locks and opened the heavy door. He pulled out a small wallet-sized wedding photo, his wedding photo.
    Ben stared down at the photo cradled in his palm. He and Julie held hands. She looked lovely. Her red hair was pulled back in a bun, and her ivory skin glowed in the California sunshine. He didn’t remember exactly why he’d locked it away. Locking away a piece of his heart maybe, keeping it safe and out of sight. Ben ran a light finger over Julie’s image before tucking the photo into his jacket pocket.
    He closed the safe and relocked it. As he turned back to the bedroom, he noticed that the bedspread appeared wrinkled near the head of the bed, next to a nightstand. It looked as if someone had sat there. He supposed an investigator, or even Tom, might have sat down on the bed but that seemed unlikely.
    Ben walked over to the bed and sat in that exact spot. His eyes swept the room several times. He quickly noted that some of the dust was disturbed along the front edge of the nightstand, but the chest hadn’t been dusted for fingerprints. The middle drawer sat slightly askew.
    Ben reached down and opened it. Inside he found his usual collection of miscellaneous items, pens and pencils, packing tape, and a notepad still wrapped in cellophane. Beneath those items he spotted a screwdriver and a penknife.
    Pulling on a pair of gloves, Ben retrieved the screwdriver and the penknife. He’d never used either. They were freebies from the office supply store. The screwdriver was bent and the blade of the pen knife had been