But Jake’s black sedan was parked crookedly at the curb, its hazard lights blinking.

I grabbed the banister and started up the main staircase toward the third floor.

My breath came in ragged gasps.

As I reached the landing between the second and third floors, I heard loud voices.

“I don’t care about your agreement with Carl,” Jake’s voice boomed.

“Carl doesn’t run this place anymore,” Jake said.

I rounded the corner and saw Jake standing in the doorway of apartment 3A.

Mr. Alvarez was standing on his threshold, his old face creased with anger and fear.

He was holding a small stack of twenty-dollar bills in his hand, but he was keeping them close to his chest.

“Carl always gives me until the fifth,” Mr. Alvarez said, his voice shaking.

“Well, Carl isn’t here,” Jake said, taking a step forward.

Jake reached out and grabbed the old man’s wrist.

“Hey!” a sharp voice barked from the stairs behind me.

I turned around.

Carl was standing at the top of the stairs, his face pale but his eyes burning.