Fallon shoved the note at him, then ran to her closet, her dresser, her bookcase. Everything was empty. He dashed past his fellow guard, back to the bathroom. Sure, it was tidy, but gone were the fancy soaps, the makeup basket, and the electric hair curlers. In the front room, the record stand had been cleaned out. Even the record player was gone. Laura had packed up everything she owned and run away with Warren and his leather jacket.
Fantastic.
Fallon closed his eyes and concentrated on his sister; on her leaving. He saw her packing records in an old green suitcase, saw her folding clothes, humming to herself. Then he saw a flashy sports car. Warren grinned, his dark hair slicked back, and his leather jacket shiny under the street lights. A flash of brick building behind him said that they'd made it somewhere else, though Fallon couldn't see where.
Uniform forgotten, he started for the door. "I need to go look for her!"