The bed gives a reasonably good vantage point of the loft's studio, but not the smaller back rooms, nor the kitchen.

Kim's footsteps are loud enough in the silence; so is her heartbeat and breathing. Sylar tracks her even as he keeps his gaze fixed on his feet, almost wholly absorbed in the task of keeping the pain at bay.

After a moment, it occurs to him. His eyes flick upward.

Very quietly, the lock on the loft's front door twists and settles into place.