Click.

The lock on the window gave way easily. Chick had done this dozens of times before.

Maybe he was a thief in a previous life. He certainly could have been in this one. But Chick was a private invesigator. Not like the sexy, beautiful PIs you see on TV. No, he was one of the sleazy ones.

He didn’t like to think of himself as sleazy, but this was breaking and entering.

No matter. Already, he could see plenty of evidence of the kind of indescretion he had been paid to document. He took pictures of everything, especially any clothes he found.

Chick wasn’t new to this. He’d been chasing cheating spouses for almost 20 years now. He knew the best place to look was the hall closet.

This was where a cheating spouse would leave clothes, old shoes, something his client would recognize.

But when he opened the door, he didn’t find any of that. In fact, he didn’t even find a closet. There was a hole leading, well, it appeared, to nowhere.

Chick, against his better judgement, steps through.