Sliding the shallow wooden drawer shut with a soft click, Ryan let out a slow, weary breath and looked back down at the small wooden desk surface where he kept his laptop and notepad. Resting squarely beside his cold ceramic mug was an anonymous brown cardboard box—the exact twin of the heavy parcel he had noticed earlier, except this one had its dull gray packing tape sliced cleanly open. The stiff flaps were folded back, and it was evident someone had already rummaged through the interior, displacing a thick nest of bubble wrap and leaving a stack of unmarked plastic folders askew against the edge.
Frowning, Ryan set the unsettling transit schedule aside and stepped closer, peering down into the open container. Inside lay several obsolete office ledger pads and a neat collection of laminated ID badges bearing his own name and face, though the formatting, corporate logos, and security holograms belonged to an affiliate division he had never worked for. The air in the quiet apartment felt suddenly thin, the distant rumble of a northbound commuter train outside doing little to mask the chilling realization that someone had unlocked his door, sorted through his professional ghosts, and left the evidence sitting right on his desk.