Chapter 20The front door to my apartment building is ajar when I arrive home. I will not have to type in the building’s password on the keypad to enter.
I still complain to my landlord about the rise of vagrants and homelessness in the area, people wandering into the building and pitching a tent in the foyer to escape bad weather, a warm place to sleep. I make a mental note to remind him to ramp up security.
I climb the front stairs, my hand throbs and bleeds through the thin paper towels.
I look around the area, into the street and the shadowy alley leading into the backyard. I do not see anything out of the ordinary; no suspicious activity.
I walk into the foyer. The door slams shut, then reopens, slamming back and forth against the wind. The lock is broken and bent at an odd angle.
