I watched him go, feeling a flicker of suspicion.

Derek had always been the soft one.

He took after his father, always worrying about rules and fairness.

But I didn’t have time to worry about Derek’s conscience today.

The buzzer in the kitchen sounded, a harsh, buzzing ring that echoed through the small apartment.

I walked over to the intercom on the wall.

“Who is it?” I asked, pressing the button.

“Mrs. Patterson,” the speaker crackled. “From 3B.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

“What is it, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Is Carl up there?” she asked. “I saw him running down the stairs earlier like he was being chased.”

“Carl is busy,” I said. “He’s working in the basement.”

“Well, tell him his mail is sitting on the radiator in the lobby,” she said. “The mailman just left it there.”

“I’ll get it later,” I said.

“And there’s a man in a suit outside,” she added. “He’s been sitting in a black sedan for an hour.”

I paused, my finger hovering over the talk button.

“What kind of sedan?” I asked.