Mrs. Patterson stepped out into the hallway.

She was wearing a thick wool cardigan over her nightgown.

“Carl,” she whispered, looking around as if she were afraid of being heard.

“Morning, Mrs. Patterson,” Carl said, stopping.

“Are you back for good?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m working on it,” Carl said.

“They were in the basement last night,” Mrs. Patterson said, leaning closer.

“Who was?” I asked.

“That boy of hers, Jake,” she said. “And some other man I didn’t recognize.”

“What were they doing?” Carl asked.

“I heard metal banging,” she said. “It woke me up at three in the morning.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Patterson,” Carl said gently. “Go back inside where it’s warm.”

“It’s not warm, Carl,” she said, shivering. “My apartment is freezing.”

“I’ll look into it,” Carl promised.

She nodded and slipped back into her apartment, locking the door behind her.

We walked down the concrete stairs to the first floor.

The air in the lower hallway was even colder.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Alvarez was waiting by the mailboxes.

He was holding a cup of steaming coffee.