Glancing at Ober, Eric shrugged his shoulders and headed home.

“You’re late,” Nathan proclaimed the moment the door opened. Walking inside, Ben headed straight to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with him?” Nathan asked.

“He wouldn’t say,” Eric said. “I think something happened at work.” Sitting on the love seat, Eric asked, “Were you waiting long?”

“I want you to know it still amazes me that you are consistently five minutes late to everything,” Nathan said, looking at his watch. “I mean, I can set my watch to your lateness.”

Unaccustomed to a close shave, Eric rubbed his face. “I’m not late,” he said. “You’re messed up because you set your watch ten minutes ahead.”

“Don’t even start with that,” Nathan said. “On my watch you’re fifteen minutes late, but you’re still five minutes late in real time.”

“I’ll never understand that,” Ober said. “If you know your watch is always ten minutes ahead, then what good does it do you?”

“Au contraire, my simpleminded friend. I don’t pay attention to the-”

“Who opened my mail?” Ben interrupted. He stood in the doorway, holding up the pile of envelopes.

“It was like that in the mailbox,” Nathan said.

“Was anyone else’s mail opened?” Ben asked.

“Just yours,” Nathan said. “You think it was Rick?”

Ben loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. “I don’t know what else to think. He called me today right when I was leaving work. And he knew about our dinner tonight.”

“Were any of the letters important?”

“None of them. They’re all either bills or junk mail.”

“I don’t mean to be inconsiderate, but if we’re late for dinner, Aunt Katie will never let us hear the end of it,” Eric said.

“I’m not going to dinner,” Ben said.

“Why?” Eric asked. “Just because someone opened your mail?”

“No, because I’m terrified Rick was checking up on me.” Ben put his mail on the kitchen counter and poured himself a glass of water. “Maybe he was planning on breaking in here when we were gone.”

“If he wanted to break in, he would’ve done it when he opened your mail,” Eric said. “Don’t let him wreck your life like this. He’s just trying to make you crazy.”

“Then I’ll have to be crazy,” Ben said. “Go without me and tell Katie I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be any fun tonight, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Eric asked.

“Go,” Ben said. “I’ll be fine here.”

Realizing that Ben wasn’t about to change his mind, the three friends walked to the door. “We’ll see you later.”

The moment the door closed, Ben picked up his mail again. Shuffling through the envelopes, he found the only one without a return address. He pulled the letter from the envelope and reread the five words written in thick black Magic Marker: TRUST YOUR FRIENDS? SINCERELY, RICK. As he stared at the short message, Ben wondered whether the letter was a taunting warning or a simple question. Feeling both guilty and regretful for not telling his roommates about the letter, Ben crumpled it in a tight fist. How the hell did I let him do this to me? he wondered. Now he’s got me suspecting my closest friends.

Ben threw the rest of the mail back on the counter, stepped into the dining room, and leaned on the large glass table. Don’t even think it’s one of them. There’s no way it’s one of them, he reassured himself. If I don’t trust them, who can I trust? Staring at his reflection in the smudged glass, he replayed all the important events in his mind. He thought about every piece of information Rick had. He recalled every other person who was also privy to the information. He then came up with a logical way for Rick to find out about each piece. If the house is bugged, he thought, he could’ve heard us talking about Aunt Katie’s dinner. And I told Nathan about the flowers. He could’ve overheard that as well. With a well-hidden microphone, Rick could’ve overheard everything. Staring down at the glass table, Ben nodded to himself. That’s the most logical explanation. That’s how he-

At the base of the glass table, Ben spotted a small dark object. On his knees in a matter of seconds, Ben closely examined the object. It was nothing. A clump of dirt from someone’s shoes. Undeterred, Ben tilted the table and searched under each leg for Rick’s microphone. Then he looked at each chair. He turned over the couches, lifted the cushions, squeezed the pillows, flipped the coffee table, ran his hands along the back of every picture frame, examined the television, turned over the VCR, inspected every videotape, pulled apart the closet, checked the pockets of every coat, opened every umbrella, peeked into baseball gloves, peered into tennis-ball cans, looked behind the toilet, cleared out the refrigerator, picked through all the cabinets, lifted every appliance, emptied every drawer, scrutinized every lamp, and took apart every phone. By the time he was finished, the first floor of the house was a shambles. And still nothing.

Hold it together, Ben told himself, his shirt soaked with sweat. Don’t lose it. After rearranging the kitchen, the bathroom, the dining room, and the living room, Ben collapsed on the large sofa. He lay facedown; his right arm sagged to the floor and his fingers picked at the carpet. Catching his breath, Ben reached his conclusion. No matter what, you have to trust your friends. That’s the only way to stay sane. Trust your friends.

When Ben’s roommates arrived back at the house, Nathan headed for the bathroom, Ober headed for the kitchen, and Eric slumped in front of the television. Hearing the front door slam, Ben left his room and headed downstairs. He found Ober digging into a pint of ice cream. “How can you possibly be hungry?” Ben asked. “Didn’t you just eat a full meal?”

“I’m a growing boy,” Ober said.

Nathan returned to the living room. “How are you feeling?” he asked Ben. “Still worried about Rick?”

“Of course I’m still worried. But I’ve calmed down. I just needed the time alone.” He joined Eric on the large couch. “How was dinner?”

“You missed it,” Ober said, still picking at the pint of ice cream. “Eric’s aunt is hotter than ever!”

“Can we stop talking about her?” Eric pleaded.

“Listen, we can understand why you feel the need to be protective, but you have to face facts,” Nathan said. “Your aunt is steamy.”

“I don’t understand,” Eric said. “She’s not even that pretty.”

“You’ll never understand,” Nathan said. “It’s her aura. It speaks to us.”

“Does she still have that picture of herself in a bikini on the refrigerator?” Ben asked.

Ober smiled. “Not anymore.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the photo and threw it to Ben. “I figured you needed a little pick-me-up.”

“You stole the picture from her refrigerator?” Eric asked, looking over Ben’s shoulder.

“We borrowed it,” Ober said. “We’ll give it back. I just wanted to show Ben what he missed.”

“Hello, perverts,” Eric said. “This is my aunt we’re talking about.”

“What would happen if you had sex with her?” Ober asked. “Would your kids be mutants or something?”

“What’s the word again for kids who are born from inbreeding?” Nathan asked.

“I think they’re called ‘Obers,’” Eric said.

“Now that’s funny,” Ober said. “That’s a real laugh riot.”

Comforted by the camaraderie, Ben was even more convinced that the letter was just Rick’s way of playing mind games. He passed the photo to Nathan and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I meant to tell you, I have a good bit of gossip for you. But you have to keep it secret until I say it’s okay.”

“Let’er rip,” Eric said, watching Nathan fawn over the picture of his aunt.

“Let’s just say that if you had to have a journalistic hunch in the next few days, I’d start asking around about an old Supreme Court justice.”

“Blake’s finally retiring?” Eric asked.