Finally, Nate opened a door to a bedroom that undoubtedly belonged to Fred. It was like stepping into a time machine and coming out in a world mixed between the seventies and the modern day. A few lava lamps scattered the room. A large, round shag carpet sat at the center of the otherwise wooden flooring, depicting the Monster Inc. logo. A few pictures of family members Nate recognized, including a couple with him, hung on the walls, plenty of them singles with Fred. A large mirror took up one wall, holes in part of it where a mirrored closet door waited. 
	Nate shone his flashlight at the base of the mirror, careful to keep from blinding himself by flashing it directly on it. It always amazed him how tidy Fred was, and his skills at keeping mirrors smudge-free. Nate swore if he so much as glanced at one, it smudged it.
	Nate went around a couple beanbags and “futuristic” chairs toward a desk in the corner. He rummaged through a few papers scattered on it, and stumbled on what looked like the work of a sequel to [i]Fred on Fred: The Many Faces of Me[/i] shoved at the bottom of a drawer.
	Nate rolled his eyes and shoved the drawer shut. He sighed, then turned to search through the closet.
	Predictably, Fred’s closet was dominated by various shades of blue and white. Even a tuxedo he found near the front matched his usual color scheme.
	“Would it kill you to get a little verity?” he muttered into the closet, the garments muffling his voice. Not that he had much of that himself in his own closet.
	He heaved a sigh, then glanced over to the wall to the right where an array of orange ascots hung on hooks. Closing the closet, he stepped toward the wall. As his flashlight glinted over a part of the mirror, he stumbled to a partial stop, and stepped back.
	Just visible in the way the light had reflected off the mirror, was a series of [i]smudges.[/i]
	“Hel-lo,” he said, bending slightly to get a better look at the smudges. He shone the light over it carefully, trying to reveal them in their entirety. Slowly, he made out a name written on the otherwise pristine mirror:
	[i]Jacobo.[/i]
	“Ah, ha!” Nate exclaimed as he stood, slapping a triumphant hand to his knee. “I [i]knew[/i] it was linked!”
	His attention turned to the door when he heard Maggie call his name. He hurried to the door frame and leaned out, shining his flashlight down the hall until it fell on the woman.
	“What’s up, Sassafras?” He glanced behind her, searching for any sign she had run into trouble.