He picked the lock easily, not so quickly as when he was younger, perhaps -- his hands shook a little now -- but there would be no trace of forced entry.
There never was.
Automatically, his hand moved towards his jacket pocket, but he arrested the motion. Now was not the time for a cigarette. Instead, he switched on his small flashlight and moved through the rooms.
Scully had rearranged the living room furniture since he'd been there last. Without the light, he would have tripped and fallen. And was that a new throw pillow? Silently, he cursed his failing memory. Only a few years before, he would have known if there was so much as a doily out of place.
Enough lollygagging. He reached his destination and opened the drawer. Putting down the light, he used both hands, searching by touch.
He had to be careful to keep everything as it was when he found it, deliberate in his movements. He lingered over items, identifying them by feel. But where was the thing he'd come for?
Success! Gently, he pulled it out, then arranged the contents and shut the drawer.
He took a moment to run the silk panties over his face, then slipped them into his pocket. Another mission accomplished. Time to go home and...
His pager vibrated. Someone had tripped the perimeter alarm. She must be home early. Damn!
He'd just have to make something up.