The True Owner of Morrison Garden Apartments Reclaims His Life and Legacy
I put a hand on Carl’s arm, feeling the damp fabric of his shirt.
“They didn’t win, Carl,” I said. “You saved the boiler.”
“And Derek saved the truth,” Mr. Alvarez added.
Derek looked at his phone again, which was vibrating in his hand.
A new message from Jake appeared on the lock screen.
*Where are you? The street is blocked.*
Derek didn’t reply.
He handed the phone to Officer Miller.
“You should keep this,” Derek said. “As evidence.”
Miller took the phone and placed it in a clear plastic bag he pulled from his pocket.
“We will need you to come down to the precinct to make a formal statement,” Miller said.
“I’ll go,” Derek said. “I’ll tell them everything.”
The sound of shouting came from the courtyard outside.
We all turned to look through the glass door.
A second police car had pulled up, its headlights cutting through the dark rain.
Two officers were walking toward the courtyard, escorting a woman in a wet faux-fur coat.
Her hair was plastered to her face, and her hands were secured behind her back.