“Carl,” Mr. Alvarez said, his face brightening. “Thank God.”

“Is the heating off in your unit too, Roberto?” Carl asked.

“Completely,” Mr. Alvarez said. “The radiators are ice.”

“I’m going to handle it,” Carl said.

“Be careful,” Mr. Alvarez warned. “They are in the office right now.”

“We are heading there now,” I said, holding up the manila folder.

Mr. Alvarez nodded, his expression serious.

“Do what you have to do,” he said.

We walked down the long, narrow hallway toward the manager’s office.

The frosted glass door of the office was lit from within.

I could hear the murmur of voices behind the glass.

Carl didn’t hesitate.

He reached out, turned the brass knob, and pushed the door open.

The door swung inward, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

Mallerie was sitting behind Carl’s desk.

She was wearing a thick faux-fur coat, a mug of coffee in her hand.

Jake was sitting on the corner of the desk, his boots dangling.

A large metal wrench was resting on the desk next to him.

Both of them looked up when we entered.