It really was amazing the doors you could get opened just by dropping your name and job title, Caroline mused as she inserted the key in the lock. Take this, for example ....one charming conversation with the caretaker of the Condos, and she had Jon's apartment opened up for her while he was at work. After all, if you couldn't trust this Granger, which of them could you trust"

Pushing the door closed behind her, Caroline frowned as she looked around. The apartment didn't look lived in at all. Aside from the buttock prints on the couch, there was no real evidence that Jon had even moved in. Something tucked just under the couch caught her eye, bringing her over to inspect her find. Her fingers found silk and lace, lifting what certainly looked like a woman's brassiere to eye level with her eyebrows making a dash for her hairline.

"Well, unless you're into cross-dressing, Possum, I'd say someone's gotten himself a girlfriend," she murmured to herself, curiosity sparked wickedly in her mind.

She tucked the bra back where she'd found it and began to move through the apartment, looking for ....what? Just why was she here, anyway' Jon was acting all kinds of strange these days, upsetting people without even seeming to care. And then there was that odd conversation she'd had with him outside the Inn. It wasn't like Jon to speak in the third person, or so cryptically. It hadn't done anything to assuage Caroline's sense that something was up, something very wrong.

So that was why she was here. She was snooping, not sure what she thought was going on. Either Jon had somehow been replaced with a kind of sub-normal dopplelganger, or else that b*tch of a vampire had him under her control again. Either way, Caroline was determined to find out what was going on, and if burglarizing her own cousin was the only way to do it, she wasn't going to shy away from that duty.

The kitchen was clear, as unlived in as the sitting room. Less so, if you counted a forgotten bra as a sign that someone had been living here. A check of the fridge showed that Jon was still living off restaurants and takeaways; sniffing the milk proved that he'd forgotten to replace it when it had gone off again. None of this was unusual, really. But she couldn't shake the sense that things just weren't right. Maybe she should have brought Lena with her; Jon's sister, while furious with him right now, would have known if anything was out of place.

A quick scan of the spare bedroom revealed that someone had been using the bed, at least, but again, there was nothing to show for it. But the main bedroom ....that, at least, brought something to the fore. It smelt musty, the bed unmade and seemingly forgotten. It was obvious that the room hadn't been used in days. But searching through the drawers beside the bed turned up something she hadn't been expecting. A single crisp white envelope, with a single name written there in Jon's familiar hand. Victoria Marshall.

"Who's Victoria Marshall?" Caroline frowned, picking up the envelope to inspect it more closely. The ink was well dried, beginning to fade, so this must have been written at around the same time this bedroom ceased to be used regularly. But the name ....she'd never even heard of a Victoria in relation to Jon. She couldn't think of any circumstance where it had come up. How ....odd.

Turning over the envelope, Caroline found herself grinning. "Oh, Jon, Jon, Jon," she sighed, rising to her feet to go into the kitchen, letter in hand. The kettle was half full, flicking onto boil with the push of a button as she leaned against the counter, looking at the seal of the paper with that same grin. "How many times do I have to tell you? Lick and stick doesn't work half as well as the adhesive strips."

But in this case, lick and stick was her friend. As steam coiled from the spout of the kettle, the esteemed CEO of the Granger Guild Conglomerate held the seal of the envelope over it, letting the heated moisture do its worst. After a minute or two, the envelope came open easily, and she was free to peruse the contents.

"Oh gods, Jon, what have you done?" she heard herself murmur as she reached the end. Intuition told her this was a genuine letter, at least ....which meant that the Jon she'd been speaking to recently probably wasn't the real Jon, but was in on whatever the real Jon was up to. And the real Jon was doing something dangerous enough that he felt it necessary to write a goodbye letter to some woman none of them had even met, rather than to any of his family.

So who was this Victoria Marshall woman?