The lieutenant stared at her. 'Are you always this dismally reassuring?'

'I guess I hate to see people damage themselves the way they seem determined to damage the planet.'

'I keep forgetting you're an environmentalist.'

'An optimist. I'm hoping if I try hard enough, and if others try hard enough, we might actually be able to clean up this mess.'

'Well.' Craig coughed and gripped the bannister. I'm prepared to do my share. Let's go. Seven floors. No problem. But listen, if I get tired, can I lean on your shoulder?'

Craig was out of breath, his brow beaded with sweat, when they reached the seventh floor. But he hadn't complained, and he hadn't stopped to take a rest. Tess gave him credit for being determined. 'There. That's my exercise for the month,' Craig said. 'Don't break the start of a pattern. Try again tomorrow.' 'Maybe. You never know. I might surprise you.' The lieutenant's mischievous grin made Tess suspect that he was trying to make her feel at ease.

To the left, they faced 7-C. There wasn't any name in the slot below the apartment's number. A metal sign on the door said ACE ALARM SYSTEM.

'You'd better put these on,' Craig said. He handed her rubber gloves and coverings for her sneakers. 'Homicide was here this morning. They took photographs and did a preliminary dusting for fingerprints. But they'll be back, and even though I've got permission to show you the apartment, we don't want to disturb it anymore than necessary.'

Craig had rubber gloves and shoe coverings for himself as well. After knocking and getting no answer, he pulled two keys from his pocket and unlocked two deadbolts. But when he twisted the doorknob, Tess placed a nervous hand on his arm.

'Is something wrong?' Craig asked.

'Are you sure there's nothing inside that'll gross me out?'

'You'll be disturbed. But I guarantee – this won't be like the morgue. Trust me. You don't need to feel afraid.'

'Okay.' Tess compacted her muscles. 'I'm ready. Let's do it.'

The lieutenant swung the door inward.

Tess saw a white corridor. A red light glowed on an alarm box to the right. The alarm was primitive – no number pad, just a switch, presumably because the landlord had economized by installing the least expensive model.

Craig flicked the switch down. The light went off.

They entered the corridor. Beyond the alarm box, Tess saw a small bathroom to the right. A sink, a commode, a tub, no shower stall. The tub was old enough that its rim was curved, oval instead of rectangular, metal feet supporting it. But despite its age, and that of the sink and commode, the pitted white surfaces gleamed.

Tess concentrated so hard that the sound the lieutenant made when he shut the door surprised her, making her flinch.

'Notice anything?' Craig said behind her.

Tess studied the neatly folded, clean towel and washcloth on a shiny metal rod next to the sink. On the sink itself, a toothbrush that looked new stood in a sparkling glass. The mirror on the medicine cabinet shone.

'Joseph was a better housekeeper than I am, that's for sure.'

'Look closer.' Craig edged past her. Entering the bathroom, he opened the medicine cabinet.

Tess peered inside. A razor. A package of blades. A tube of Old Spice shaving cream. A tube of Crest toothpaste. The tubes were methodically rolled up from the bottom and set in an ordered row. A bottle of Old Spice aftershave lotion. A bottle of Redken shampoo. A packet of dental floss.

'So?' Tess asked.

The basics. Only the basics. In fact, for most people, less than the basics. In all my years of being a detective, of searching the rooms that belong to missing persons, I've never yet seen a medicine cabinet that didn't contain at least one prescription medicine. An antibiotic or an antihistamine, for example.'

Tess opened her mouth to respond.

Craig raised his hand to interrupt. 'Okay, from the way you describe him, Joseph was healthy, exercised every day, ate right, took care of himself. But Tess, there isn't even an aspirin bottle, and everybody – I don't care how healthy Joseph was – keeps aspirins. I mean everybody. I checked the rest of the apartment. I found vitamins in the kitchen. But aspirins?' The lieutenant shook his head. The guy was a purist.'

'What's so strange about that? He didn't like taking chemicals, no matter how benign they are. So what?'

'I'm not finished yet.' Craig motioned for her to follow.

They left the bathroom, continued along the hallway, and reached a kitchen on the left.

There, the stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher were several years old, but like the sink, commode, and tub in the bathroom, they were polished until they gleamed. The worn but bright counter was bare. No toaster. No microwave. No coffee pot.

Craig opened the cupboards. They were empty, except for a plate, bowl, and cup in one, and a few spotless stainless steel pots and a colander in another.

Craig opened every drawer. They too were empty, except for a knife, fork, and spoon in one and two larger metal spoons appropriate for stirring food cooked in the stainless steel pots. To put it mildly, Joseph felt compelled to strip things down to the absolute essentials. The vitamins are in the spice rack behind you, by the way. No sage, no oregano. Never mind salt or pepper. Only vitamins. And no alcohol anywhere, not even cooking sherry.'

'So Joseph didn't like to drink. Big deal,' Tess said. 'I don't drink much either.'

'Keep an open mind. I'm just getting started.'

Tess shook her head, bewildered, as Craig pulled open the fridge.

'Orange juice, skim milk, bottled water, fruit, a shitload of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, sprouts… Vegetables. No meat. No-'

'Joseph told me he was a vegetarian.'

'Don't you think he was taking it to an extreme?'

'Not necessarily. I'm a vegetarian,' Tess said. 'You ought to see my refrigerator. The only thing different is I sometimes eat fish or chicken but only white meat.'

Craig gestured impatiently around him. 'No cans of food in the cupboards.'

'Of course. Too much salt. Too many preservatives. The taste is synthetic.'

'No offense, but I hope I never have to eat your cooking.'

'Don't jump to conclusions, Lieutenant. I cook very well.'

'I'm sure you do, but if I don't get a steak now and then-'

'You'd have less cholesterol,' Tess said. 'And maybe less weight around your belt.'

Craig squinted, then chuckled, then coughed. 'I suppose I could use a few less… Never mind. As I said, we're just getting started. Let me show you the living room.'

Tess followed, leaving the kitchen, proceeding down the corridor.

And faltered.

Except for thick open draperies at the windows, the room was totally empty. No carpet. No lamps. No chairs. No sofa. No tables. No shelves. No television. No stereo. No posters. No reproductions of paintings. Bare floor. Bare walls. Not even a-

'Phone,' Craig said, seeming to read her mind. 'Not in the kitchen. Not here. And not in the bedroom. No wonder Joseph didn't give his employer his phone number. He didn't have a phone. He didn't want one. And my guess is he didn't have any use for one. Because the last thing he wanted was a call from someone or to make a call. Your friend had reduced his life to bare necessities. And don't tell me that's typical of a vegetarian. Because I know better. I've never seen anything like this.'

Trembling, Tess opened a closet and stared at a jogging suit on a hanger next to a simple but practical overcoat. No boxes on the upper shelf. Below, on the otherwise barren floor, she saw a solitary pair of Nike jogging shoes.