“With what lawyer?” I asked. “You can’t even pay your retainer fee anymore.”

There was a silence from the other side.

I knew that blow had landed.

Without access to his accounts, he couldn’t pay for legal help.

He was trapped down there.

I heard him walk away from the door, his footsteps fading deeper into the basement.

He was going toward the boiler room.

The boiler room had an exit to the alley, but I had padlock-chained that door from the outside three days ago.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

I looked back down the hallway toward Derek’s room.

His door was cracked open.

I could see him standing in the shadows of his doorway, watching me.

“What are you looking at?” I snapped.

Derek didn’t answer.

He just slowly closed his door until the latch clicked.

I shook my head and went back to the kitchen window.

The black sedan was still there.

The driver’s door opened, and a man in a long wool coat stepped out.

He didn’t look like a cop.

He looked like a process server.

He had a thick manila envelope under his arm.