Chapter 4

The next morning, Ginny acted as if nothing had happened as she hung her blankets out to dry downstairs.

When she saw me, she smiled and waved.

“Lena, did you get scared last night?”

I didn’t answer.

She stepped closer and lowered her voice.

“Don’t blame me, dear. That’s just how things work in this building. Everyone has to watch out for one another so we can all stay safe.”

Daniel’s name slipped from my lips, and the wrinkles on her face briefly froze.

“The boy who used to live in 1204.”

Ginny sighed.

“You young people come and go from one rental to another. How could I possibly remember you all?”

She turned and went upstairs.

Her left hand stayed hidden inside her sleeve.

There was blood on her cuff.

I didn’t follow her.

I went to the property management office.

A small room on the right side of the first floor bore a sign that read “Hawthorne Property Management.” Old delivery boxes were stacked outside the door.

Two people in blue uniforms sat inside.

One was William.

The other was younger, and his name badge read Tom.

They looked completely different.

But they lowered their heads and wrote in exactly the same way.

I stood in front of the desk.

“I want to see the tenant registration records.”

William looked up.

“Only property owners are allowed to see them.”

“My brother is missing.”

“Call the police.”

“The police already came. You told them there was no Daniel Smith.”

William put down his pen.

Tom put down his pen as well.

Both men looked at me at the same time.

“There is no Daniel Smith in this building.”

The words came from both mouths in precisely the same tone.

My stomach clenched.

A notice board hung on the back wall of the office.

It displayed a list of the building’s outstanding residents for the month.

First place for the most valid reports: 703—Alex Miller.

Second place: 1001—Sam Parker.

Third place: 401—Eris York.

A faded group photograph was pinned at the bottom.

All the residents of the building stood downstairs in the photograph, holding a red banner.

It read:

Hawthorne Lane Apartments, Building 4 Resident Safety Mutual Aid Pact Signing Ceremony.

The date was five years ago.

Beside the group photograph was another, newer picture with half of someone’s face torn away.

The edges of the photograph had not yet yellowed.

I recognized the coat.

It was the coat Daniel wore on the day he disappeared.

I reached out to take it down.

Tom grabbed my wrist.

His hand was cold, and his fingertips had no ridges.

“You can report things you weren’t meant to see.”

I stared at his name badge.

“You’re not property management.”

William smiled slowly.

“Then what do you think we are?”

Someone coughed outside.

Sean stood in the doorway.

He leaned on a cane, his back slightly hunched.

“Mr. Jones, the pipes on the fourteenth floor are leaking again. I’ll take the girl upstairs to have a look.”

William stared at him.

Sean stared back.

After a long moment, William released my wrist.

“Go ahead.”

Once we left the office, Sean didn’t look at me. He only tossed out one sentence.

“If you want to survive this month, stop digging into your brother.”

I stopped at the foot of the stairs.

Sean’s cane struck the concrete floor with a dull, heavy thud.

“Everyone in this building knows him.”

Sean took me to the fourteenth floor.

He said the pipes were leaking.

But the floor up there was dry and pale. There wasn’t even a water stain.

He didn’t enter my apartment. He only stood by the corridor window and smoked.

The window wouldn’t open.

The smoke remained trapped in the narrow space.

The tip of his cigarette glowed once, and his voice came out rough.

“Daniel was a good kid.”

A sharp ache spread through my chest.

For the past three months, everyone had tried to make me accept that Daniel was gone.

Only this old man admitted that Daniel had been here.

Sean told me what happened five years ago.

Hawthorne Lane Apartments, Building 4, had nearly been condemned.

The building was developing cracks, and the elevator frequently plunged. The residents had protested again and again.

Then a new property management company arrived and promised to keep the building safe.

The condition was that everyone sign a Mutual Aid Pact.

At first, no one took it seriously.

Then one resident cursed at the property managers in the elevator. That same night, he fell down the stairwell.

The next day, the cracks sealed themselves.

The day after that, the elevator was working again.

From then on, one person disappeared from the building every month.

Sean’s hand trembled around his cigarette.

“They were afraid at first. Later, they realized that as long as they handed over an outsider, life could go on as usual.”

I looked at him.

Sean avoided my eyes.

“My son was bedridden back then, and his hospital bills cost hundreds a day. Property management said the building would provide financial assistance as long as I signed.”

The rest of his sentence caught in his throat.

I understood.

Not everyone who became an accomplice to this building was born evil.

But every one of them made a choice.

After the first choice, all that remained was covering it up.

I held out Daniel’s photograph.

“Where did this come from?”

Sean stared at the photograph, his face turning grim.

“An offering portrait.”

“What does that mean?”

“Before choosing someone each month, they take a photograph first. It proves that the building has taken notice of them.”

My fingertips went numb.

“Who chose Daniel?”

Sean remained silent for a long time.

“Everyone.”

The elevator chimed.

The red light came on.

Sean immediately snuffed out his cigarette and gestured for me to stay still.

The elevator doors opened.

There was no one inside.

An old voice recorder sat on the floor.

It began playing by itself.

Daniel’s voice came from the recorder.

“Dorothy, don’t trust Sean.”

Sean’s expression changed dramatically.

I stumbled backward.

The next second, soft laughter came from behind every door in the corridor.