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the bedroom had the neat, sterile look of a hotel, not the warm and sensual air of one's most intimate space. It made searching easier, like I was breaking into a vacant room. We sifted through drawers and closets, again finding little to go on.

"Eek!" I suddenly cried, staring into an open drawer. Bastien flew to me.

"What? What is it?"

I held up what had to be the most wholesome pair of granny panties I'd ever seen. They were like great-granny panties. They were even white. You would have thought she could at least go out on a limb and get them in blue or green or something.

Bastien elbowed me for my overreaction. "How can you even act surprised after hearing her rants about modest clothing?"

"Modest is one thing, but Jesus...how high do these things go? Up to her neck?"

"Put them back. We've got to - "

Click. We'd both heard. I shot Bastien a panicked look and shoved the underwear back in the drawer. "I thought you said - " His tone was grim. "I know, I know." Someone had just entered the house.

CHAPTER 7

We stood rooted in the bedroom, frozen, both of us too terrified to blink. Downstairs, the door shut and footsteps could be clearly heard on the hardwood floor. A low murmur of voices drifted up, the words inaudible.

"What are we going to do?" I whispered. Invisible we might be, but I still didn't want to slink through the house with others around. It would also make leaving inconspicuously a problem.

Bastien frowned, apparently trying to discern the words below. "Those are all male voices. Not Dana. Come on."

He grabbed my arm, and we crept out into the hallway where we could hear more clearly.

"You sure they aren't coming home?" asked an anxious voice.

"Yup. They'll be out 'til, like, midnight."

"Cool."

Bastien grinned at me. "Reese," he breathed.

Reese. The son. The son who was supposed to be down the street at a friend's house. That was better than Dana, but still disconcerting. I shot Bastien a questioning look. What's he doing here? I mouthed.

Bastien shrugged by way of answer and gestured for me to follow him the rest of the way downstairs. Reese and his friend obliviously made enough noise to cover any of our movements.

I hadn't really seen Reese yet and was curious. I'd expected a clean-cut, dutiful altar-boy type, but he seemed perfectly average - in that sullen, T-shirt wearing sort of way. He had Dana's black hair and blue eyes, paired with some of Bill's unfortunate facial features. His friend had long hair and wore a beat-up army coat with jeans.

"Where should we do it?" asked the friend.

Reese glanced around. "Outside. Otherwise they'll smell it later."

"Okay. But roll it in here."

They huddled around the kitchen table. Reese produced a tin of rolling papers and a plastic Baggie with enough marijuana in it to keep a family of five stoned for a week.

The friend skillfully rolled an enormous joint, and the boys took it outside, going out the same door we'd come in. Bastien and I exchanged glances, both of us barely holding back hysterical laughter. We walked into the still-dark living room and stood at the window, watching the boys outside. They left all the outdoor lights off, not wanting to attract neighborly attention. The joint made a pinpoint of orange light in the blackness as they passed it back and forth.

"Oh my God," I gasped. "This just justified the whole break-in."

Bastien's expression was speculative. "Maybe we can use this against her."

I turned on him. "What? Come on. He's just a kid. No need to drag him down with her. Besides, if I had his parents, I'd want to be high too. "

Bastien looked momentarily uncertain, finally yielding with a small nod. "Okay. You're right. So. You want to finish the bedroom and then head out? I doubt they're going to notice much going on around them. "

We went back upstairs, still hoping for some incriminating photo or piece of paper. No such luck.

We left Reese and his friend alone, using the front door to make our getaway. Once we were safely back at Bastien's, we settled into the immaculate living room, defeated.

"Well. That was pointless," I said.

"Not entirely." Bastien reached into his pocket and tossed over Reese's plastic bag.

I caught it and straightened up in my chair. "Jesus H. Christ! You swiped that poor kid's pot?"

"He shouldn't have left it out like that."

I held it up. It was half-full. "There's a special hell for people