The apartment had been strikingly quiet when Owen walked through the door. He’d knocked first, only trying the handle after the second rap had gone unanswered, only stepping inside because he was, after all, expected. He’d even called Sebastian’s name, deciding that Sebastian must have run to stick a load of laundry in one of the two coin-operated machines that the building let them use. No doubt there were sheets that needed to be cleaned. He’d grinned at the thought as he wandered Sebastian’s kitchen, hoping that Sebastian hadn’t taken his cell phone, pleased to find it in the usual spot at the corner of the kitchen counter, and had found himself unable to rid himself of the smile even through the grim phone conversation. “I’m not sure what the game plan is,” he’d told the soothing voice
