I stopped a few feet from the opening and pressed my shoulder against the damp brick.

“I don’t have much time,” a voice said from inside.

It was Derek.

My stomach tightened into a hard, cold knot.

“She thinks I’m at the hardware store,” Derek said, his voice shaking.

“You shouldn’t have come down here, son,” Carl replied.

Carl’s voice was raspy, but it had that familiar, quiet authority that always irritated me.

“I had to,” Derek said. “Jake is going too far, Carl.”

I leaned slightly forward, straining to see through the crack in the door.

Carl was sitting on a rusted folding chair near the massive iron boiler.

His face was pale, his grey hair messy, but his eyes were sharp.

Derek stood in front of him, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“They’re going to take everything from you,” Derek whispered.

“They’ve already taken my name off the main account,” Carl said softly.

He reached out and tapped the thick copper pipe next to his chair.

“But they don’t know this building like I do,” Carl added.