Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
We pull up to the building twenty minutes later, both of us dressed in dark jeans and hoodies—the kind of outfit that doesn't draw attention, that lets you blend into the background. Normal. Casual. Nothing to see here, just two people going about their evening business.
I've worn my favorite denim jacket up over the hoodie, the one with the cool embroidery I got at a vintage shop. Under different circumstances, I might've felt cool. Right now, I just feel like I'm wearing a costume for a crime I haven't committed yet.
The building looms ahead through the windshield, its brick facade illuminated by the streetlamps. Every light, every shadow feels accusatory. My pulse throbs in my ears.
Except my hands won't stop trembling.
"You okay?" Julian asks.
"No."
He squeezes my knee. "We can still turn back."
But I'm already dialing Colleen. She answers on the second ring.
"I need you to buzz us into the building," I say, my voice coming out steadier than I feel, though my free hand grips the edge of my seat.
"What? Why?"
"I'll explain everything later, I promise," I say, forcing my voice to stay steady even though my hands are still shaking. "Just—please, Colleen. I need you to trust me on this. I know it sounds weird, but I'll tell you everything as soon as I can."
A pause. Then: "Okay."
The lobby door clicks open, and bitter-sweet memories slam into me.
Daniel's hand on my lower back as we entered together the first time, his palm warm and possessive even then, though I'd mistaken it for affection.
His lips on my neck in the elevator, the brush of his beard against my skin making me shiver while other residents pretended not to notice us.
The way he made me feel safe before he made me feel small—protected, chosen, special.
Like I was the only woman in the world who mattered to him. Like he'd never let anything hurt me.
What a fucking lie that turned out to be.
My stomach lurches. I taste bile.
"Liza." Julian's voice cuts through the fog. "Stay with me."
I nod, swallowing hard. We step inside.
The elevator rises slowly—agonizingly, each floor ticking by like minutes instead of seconds. The fluorescent lights cast strange shadows across Julian's tense profile. My reflection in the scratched metal doors shows a woman I barely recognize: pale, wide-eyed, terrified.
The cables groan and whir around us, and I count each painful second in my head. Three... four... five... The mechanical ding finally announces our arrival, and the doors slide open with a reluctant screech that makes me flinch. We step out onto the second floor.
The hallway stretches ahead, worn carpet and peeling wallpaper. Daniel's door sits at the end like a tomb.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
"If anyone comes," Julian whispers, his voice barely audible in the oppressive silence of the hallway. “We start making out. Make it look like we're just a couple who can't keep our hands off each other long enough to get into an apartment."
Despite everything, I almost laugh. "That's the plan?"
"Best I've got."
He reaches into his worn leather satchel, fingers searching until they close around a small, battered leather pouch I've never seen before. He pulls it out carefully.
The hallway remains empty. Silent except for muffled television sounds behind closed doors.
Julian drops to one knee in front of Daniel's door, his movements fluid and controlled. From that worn leather pouch, he extracts two slender tools—one looks like a thin metal pick, no thicker than a paperclip, and the other is a small L-shaped tension wrench that catches the dim hallway light.
His hands are steady as he positions them at the lock, fingers moving with the kind of practiced ease that makes my stomach flip. This isn't his first time doing this. The realization sends a chill down my spine even as I'm grateful for whatever shady skills he's picked up along the way.
"Where the hell did you learn that?"
"Colorful childhood." He doesn't look up, fingers working the tools with surprising precision.
"Let's just say the neighborhood I grew up in had more than just sweet old ladies teaching piano.
Some of my friends had... different skill sets.
More street-smart than book-smart, if you know what I mean. "
Click. Click.
"Almost there," he whispers.
My pulse roars in my ears like a freight train, drowning out everything else. I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder every few seconds, my eyes darting from one end of the hallway to the other.
The empty corridor feels like it's closing in on me.
Every shadow looks like a person emerging from the walls.
I'm convinced someone will appear at any second—a neighbor stepping out to take their trash to the chute, Mrs. Murphy from 2C heading ‘out to run errands. She’ll catch us red-handed, breaking into Daniel’s apartment like common criminals. They'll call the police. They'll—
The lock gives with a final, satisfying click.
Julian looks up at me, hand frozen on the doorknob.
This is it. The moment where everything changes, where we cross a line we can never uncross. The point of absolute, irreversible no return.
"Ready?"
No. Never. Not in a million years.
"Yeah," I whisper. "Let's do this."
He turns the handle. The door swings open into darkness.
And we step inside Daniel's lair.
The apartment swallows us whole.
My breath catches.
The first thing that hits me is the light—how it spills through the tall windows and pools on the concrete floors, pale and honest, revealing everything: the scuffs he never bothered to hide, the places where life actually happened.
I stand still, just inside the apartment, as if moving might disturb the memories of what this space used to hold.
Everything looks the same—the leather sofa where we used to watch movies, the abstract art he picked out without my input, the dining table where he'd criticize my posture. But something's different. Off.
The place is a mess.
Papers scattered across the coffee table. Dishes piled in the sink. A jacket crumpled on the floor.
Daniel never left jackets on the floor.
"He was losing it," Julian says quietly.
"Yeah." My voice sounds hollow. "He was."
We move fast. Julian heads for the office while I start in the bedroom.
I pull drawers open, rifling through his nightstand. My hands shake as I touch his things—pens, charging cables, a watch I remember him wearing. Everything feels contaminated, like his madness might transfer through contact.
Focus. Find something. Anything about Claudia.
The closet yields nothing. Same with the dresser. I check under the bed, behind furniture, anywhere someone might hide secrets.
Nothing.
The kitchen feels like another life entirely. I can see us there so clearly—standing too close, bumping hips, stealing tastes, pretending we weren’t already tired of the same conversations.
I take a breath, and the room holds it with me. This place gave me so much: excitement, desire, the illusion of forever. It also took things—certainty, innocence, the version of myself I thought I knew.
I don’t hate it. I can’t. But loving it hurts in a way that feels familiar now. Like touching something beautiful that no longer belongs to you.
I join Julian in the office. He's tearing through filing cabinets, flipping folders, scanning documents.
"Anything?"
"Bills. Rental agreements. Nothing useful." He slams a drawer shut. "Try the computer."
I slide into Daniel's desk chair. The leather still holds a faint trace of his cologne. My stomach turns.
The screen comes to life with a password prompt.
I try the obvious ones first. His birthday. The building address. Cumberland.
Incorrect password.
"Come on," I mutter, trying variations. Dates we were together. His mother's maiden name—I remember him mentioning it once.
Incorrect password.
I lean back in the chair, frustration clawing at my chest. My fingers hover uselessly over the keyboard, and I can feel the weight of every second ticking past us like a countdown to disaster.
What the hell are we even doing here? This felt like such a clear plan when we broke in, like we were finally taking control of something, but now it just feels reckless and stupid.
We're grasping at shadows, hoping to find something concrete in a place that only ever held lies and manipulation.
Daniel was always ten steps ahead of everyone, always prepared, always in control.
Why would he leave anything incriminating just sitting here, waiting to be found?
He was too smart for that. Too careful. Too calculating.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to push back the hopelessness threatening to swallow me whole.
Julian leans over my shoulder. "Let me try."
He types rapidly. Different combinations, different patterns.
Incorrect password. One attempt remaining before lockout.
"Shit." He pulls back. "We can't risk it."
My pulse hammers. We're running out of time. Someone could come. A neighbor. Building maintenance. Daniel's family.
"There has to be something here," I say, desperation creeping in. "Something that proves what he did to Claudia."
Julian's jaw tightens. He turns back to the desk, yanking open drawers with renewed urgency.
And that's when it hits me.
"We need to get into that computer," I tell him.
"He has all his security cameras stored on that computer," I say, my voice gaining strength as the pieces click into place.
"The entire building's footage—hallways, entrances, everything.
You can monitor it all from the comfort of this chair. He showed me once."
Julian studies me intently, curious.
"And I know just how."
He studies me still, wide-eyed.
"Let's get out of here, and I'll tell you how."