Chapter Twenty-Nine
The building itself was a squat apartment complex, six stories tall near Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. The surrounding brownstones needed repair, and the ramshackle stores across the street had seen better days. Still, it was a busy neighborhood, even given the early time of day. Store owners set up their wares, stereos boomed from passing cars, and the excited chatter from a group of teenagers across the street carried high into the air.
The day would be another scorcher, the heat already building as the sun climbed into the clear azure sky. Leaving my jacket behind would have been the preferred option, but the revolver, now secured underneath, needed to remain hidden.
I craned up at the blocky construction matching our address. A dull shade of gray with lots of windows,
