My grandmother and I moved into Apartment 3B at the historic Fenwick Building three weeks ago, adopting a stray hound named Buster who roamed the alley.
The recovered text messages were a gut punch. Aunt Sarah immediately called Detective Kross, a contact from her previous cold case work. He listened carefully, his voice calm but serious, promising to assemble a team first thing in the morning.
We knew we had a few hours until the police could act. Aunt Sarah insisted I return to the Fenwick Building and wait for them, but warned me to be extremely careful.
“Marcus is desperate, Leo,” she’d said, her voice grave. “He knows his time is running out.”
Back in Apartment 3B, a heavy silence settled. Grandma Martha was asleep, unaware of the explosive evidence we now possessed. I sat in the living room, Buster curled protectively at my feet.
My phone buzzed. It was Aunt Sarah. “Kross has contacted the building manager for access to 4B. They’re trying to get a search warrant signed tonight. Stay alert.”
I thanked her, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of Marcus up there, just one floor above, now knowing what he had done, was terrifying.
The clock crept towards 2:00 AM. I was exhausted, but adrenaline kept me wired. Every creak of the old building sounded like a footstep.
Suddenly, a faint, metallic click echoed from our front door.
It wasn’t a knock. It was the distinct sound of a lock tumbler turning, slowly, carefully.
My breath hitched. Someone was trying to get in.
Buster’s ears perked up. He let out a low, dangerous growl, his hackles rising.
I froze, grabbing my phone. My mind immediately went to Marcus, but a smaller, meaner part of me whispered another name: Pendelton. He knew about the SIM card, or Marcus had told him.
The door handle slowly rotated. The door swung open a crack, revealing nothing but darkness beyond the gap.
A figure slipped silently into the apartment, a shadowy silhouette against the dim hallway light. They moved with a stealth that was practiced, deliberate.
I quickly dropped to my hands and knees, scrambling under my bed. The space was tight, dusty, but offered a perfect hiding spot.
The figure paused, sensing something. Then, they took a tentative step into the living room.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the floorboards. It lingered on my desk, where the SIM card had been hours earlier.
The figure swore softly, a harsh, guttural sound that I recognized. It was Pendelton.
He moved further into the room, his heavy steps crunching on the floorboards. He was looking for the SIM card.
Buster, bless his brave heart, had had enough.
With a furious bark that echoed through the silent apartment, he launched himself from the corner, a dark blur of fur and teeth.
He wasn’t going for a bite. He was simply trying to corner the intruder, to block his path.
Pendelton yelped in surprise, dropping his flashlight. It clattered to the floor, rolling to a stop, casting a single, narrow beam of light up towards the ceiling.
Buster stood his ground in the dark hallway, his low growl a continuous rumble, effectively blocking Pendelton’s retreat.
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