“Where did you say you found this?” he asked Ruby.

“Brindlewood,” she said softly, shrinking slightly against my side.

Nathaniel turned to the security guard at the desk.

“Close the main doors,” Nathaniel ordered. “Lock down the lobby right now.”

The heavy glass doors slid shut with a dull, echoing click.

A metal bolt slid into the floor with a heavy thud.

The sudden silence in the lobby was thick.

Ruby pulled closer to my side, her small fingers wrapping around my coat sleeve.

I could feel the cold dampness of her wool mittens through my fabric.

Nathaniel Graves stood tall, the pink paper clutched in his hand.

He looked at the paper, then at Ruby, and finally at me.

“Brindlewood Apartments,” he said.

His voice was quiet, but it filled the vast, empty space.

“Yes,” I said.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“We live in Unit 4B,” I added, trying to keep my voice steady.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Five years,” I said.

He walked toward us, his leather shoes clicking on the polished marble.