Cary’s behavior was just too odd to place–normally so open, subterfuge seemed completely contrary to her nature. And why had she wanted to keep Winslow occupied for so long?

“Seems like everyone got together and decided to make this the summer of crazy,” he said, climbing the stairs to the good old fourth floor.

The door to his apartment was ajar. Winslow had seen too many movies to just stroll in—for all he knew, there could be a chainsaw wielding, hockey mask wearing burglar inside waiting for him to do just that. So Winslow ran up to the security room and asked the guard if anyone had gone into his apartment.

“Yeah,” the guard said. “Had a key. Short guy with blond hair—I’ve seen him around before.”