Part 62 (1/2)

The way those sweatpants had been sagging, it had probably fallen from a pocket.

Dean bent, scooped it up, and lifted his hand to knock again.

Austin cleared his throat.

Don't look at the cat. Just give it back.

As subtlety didn't seem to be working, Austin sank a claw into Dean's ankle just above his work boot.

”Son of . . .” He danced down the hall, collapsing against the wall by room one. ”What'd you do that for, then?”

”Aren't you the least bit curious?”

”About what? Teta.n.u.s?”

”About what's in his wallet.”

”An amulet controlling his will? A note asking us to save him?”

Austin speared him with a pointed gaze. ”You didn't used to be this sarcastic.”

”I didn't used to live with you!”

”Maybe he dropped it on purpose, did you think of that? Maybe it's a cry for help.”

”You're reaching.”

”You're opening it.”

And he was. He didn't know what he expected to find, but he found he couldn't give the wallet back unexamined. It had fallen some conveniently. ”I can't believe I'm after doing this.”

”I can't believe it's taking you so long.”

Credit cards. Health card. Driver's license . . . His eyes widened. If forced to guess, he'd have said Dr. Rebik was in his mid to late sixties.

According to his driver's license, he was thirty-eight.

And he looked worse than his picture.

”I was right.”

”I know.”

”You were wrong.”

”Yeah. I got that.”

”There's a song, you know. When I'm right and you're wrong.”

Dean stopped pacing long enough to glare at the cat. ”Don't sing it.”