I pressed the receiver to my ear, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Claire?” a voice gasped on the other end.

It was Mrs. Gable, my elderly neighbor from the second floor of Brindlewood.

“Mrs. Gable, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“They’re here, Claire,” she sobbed, the sound of wind and shouting cutting through the static. “Dunleavy’s men. They’re telling us we have to pack. They say the building is being condemned tonight.”

My stomach dropped like a lead weight.

“Tonight?” I asked. “They can’t do that. It’s the middle of the night.”

“They have papers,” she cried. “They’re turning off the water. Please, Claire, you went to find help. Did you find anyone?”

I looked at Nathaniel, whose eyes were fixed on me with intense focus.

Then I looked at Arthur, who was still wearing that sharp, satisfied grin.

“I’m with Mr. Graves right now, Mrs. Gable,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady for her sake. “Stay in your apartment. Tell the others not to leave. We are coming.”