“He’s here?” I whispered, suddenly unnerved to realize we weren’t alone in the apartment.

“I doubt it.” Titus marched across the room and pushed his brother’s bedroom door open. “He would have heard us.” He flipped a switch on the wall, and light flooded the room.

I followed him through the doorway, then stopped short, staring at the colossal mess. “Definitely not a neat freak.” But maybe an actual freak. “Does it usually look so…?”

“Destroyed?” Titus supplied, as he ended the call, and I nodded. “His room is only ever clean on cleaning days, but this is…excessive.”

“When was cleaning day?”

He slid his phone into his pocket and stared through narrowed eyes at the mess. “Thursday. Two days ago.”

“And he’s been here since then.”

Titus dropped into a squat at the edge of the bed and inhaled deeply, to verify through scent that Justus had trashed his own room. “Yes. And he’s definitely a shifter.” He sank onto his heels. “I don’t think I truly believed it until now.”

I took a deep breath through my nose. “Wow! He smells so much like you!” Even though the lingering scent in his room could be from before Justus was infected.

“I know.” Titus stood and moved around the bed, stepping over clothing, video game controllers, and an open jar of guy hair gel on his way to the built-in shelves lining one wall beneath a row of windows.

“Can you tell who infected him?” I couldn’t detect anyone else’s scent woven through Justus’s, but that could be because I didn’t know his infector.

“No. It’s probably too faint to catch in trace scents. We won’t know until we can actually smell my brother in person, and chances are we won’t know even then. He could have been infected by someone we’ve never met. The vast majority are infected by strays totally off the radar.”

“Well, we can’t track him if he doesn’t have his phone. So, what, we just wait here for him? How long does he usually stay out?”

“He’s nineteen years old. He could be out all night.” Titus plucked his brother’s laptop from a pile of laundry on the floor. “While we wait, we snoop.”

I spotted Justus’s phone on top of his chest of drawers, peeking from beneath a battered chemistry textbook and a wrinkled jumble of note cards. The device was locked, but when I woke it up, missed call alerts lit up the lock screen. I scrolled to the beginning, past nearly a dozen calls from Titus.

“Well, we could have plenty of time to snoop.” I held the phone out so he could see the list. “He hasn’t answered a call in forty-five hours.”

“What?” Titus took the phone from me and scanned the alerts. “So, what? Justus got here right after the apartment was cleaned, tore up his room, then left, never to return? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Or maybe it does.” I knelt to pull a scrap of lace and wire from another pile of clothes and held the shredded bra up for him to see. “Unless your brother has a pretty big secret, this might be about a girl. Was he dating someone?”

“More like everyone. Justus is very…social. I probably didn’t set a good example in that department.”

A bolt of jealousy shot through me. How many girls had Titus brought home?

Titus scrubbed one hand over his face, and sleep deprivation seemed to catch up with him all at once. “And that’s only one on a long list of regrets over how I took care of my brother after our parents died.”

“This isn’t your fault. You didn’t infect him.” A photograph caught my eye from beneath the rim of an overturned aluminum mesh trash can, and I nearly tripped over a dumbbell on my way to it. “Are you sure he didn’t have an actual girlfriend?” I asked as I studied the photo. Which was actually half a photo, showing a smiling young brunette woman with a man’s arm wrapped around her waist. The rest of the man was on the missing half of the picture. “Because this looks like fallout from a bad breakup to me.”

“That would be a new development, but certainly possible.” Titus took the photo and stared at the girl. “So, two days ago, he trashes his room—possibly over a girl—and disappears. That night, he infects Corey Morris in the woods east of I55. How are those connected?”

“Let’s find out.” I took the laptop from him and picked my way across the cluttered floor. “In the living room.”

I settled onto the couch with Justus’s computer on my lap, and Titus headed into the kitchen. “I need a snack,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.” I opened Justus’s computer, and the screen blinked to life instantly. And asked for a password. Damn it.

“I’m no chef, but I can handle a couple of sandwiches.” Titus pulled open the fridge and rummaged inside, then set half a loaf of bread on the counter. “Ham or turkey.”

“Surprise me.” I typed “password” into the prompt screen, and was denied access to the computer. “Hey Titus, I don’t suppose you know your brother’s password?”

“No. Try his middle name.”

“Okay.” I frowned at the computer balanced on my knees. “With a first name like Justus, his middle name must be Truth, or Patience, or something like that.”

Titus laughed. “Anthony.”

“Justus Anthony Alexander,” I said as I typed his middle name into the field on the screen. “Nope. What else you got? Favorite book?”

“I’m not sure he’s read anything other than a textbook since he was about ten years old. Back then, he liked Harry Potter.”

“Okay.” I tried every character name I could remember from the series. No luck. “What’s your middle name?”

“Nathaniel. But he wouldn’t use that.” Titus looked up from spreading mustard on a slice of bread. “Try our mother’s name. Penelope.”

I typed that in, and the lock screen disappeared. “Yes!” Then I frowned. “I’m calling this a win for now, but when we find your brother, you need to tell him to use random words or phrases for his passwords.”

Titus chuckled. “When I was in college, my passwords were the first six digits of Fibonacci’s sequence or the first ten digits of pi, depending on the device.”