stood and watched. The man—now he was unsure whether it was Henry or not—walked past the next building, then suddenly cut right and out of sight. Corbin crossed the street, breaking into a jog, holding onto the box cutter that was still in his sweatshirt pocket. He slowed when he got to the place where the man had disappeared. There was a narrow, almost impassable alley between two buildings, and just enough moonlight to see that the alleyway was now empty. Corbin stepped into it, each side brushing a shoulder. The pavement below his feet was slippery, and a smell like spoiled milk reached his nostrils. Without thinking too much about it, Corbin turned his body slightly and briskly walked the length of the buildings, coming out on another alley, much wider, that ran behind the backs of Bury Street residences. There was no sign of the man he was following, but he must have turned right, since the alley dead-ended to the left. Corbin walked slowly and carefully toward the back of his apartment building. He’d never seen the rear of 101 Bury, and was surprised to find a wide metal door built into the brick wall, a door that more than likely led to the apartment building’s basement. There was a security camera bracketed to the wall above the door, but it was angled toward the entrance to the alleyway.
Now there was no doubt: that had to have been Henry he was following, and Henry had come back here to enter the building. But why? And how did he get in?
Corbin’s apartment keys were in his hotel room. Now was his chance. If Henry was still in the basement he could kill him there. If Henry wasn’t in the basement, then where was he? No matter where he was, Corbin would find him.
Back at the hotel room, a little breathless from the speed with which he’d walked, Corbin got the apartment keys from the zippered pocket on the outside of his carry-on luggage. There were three on the metal ring: one for the apartment, one for the storage unit, and one that opened the front doors, even though he’d never used that key, since a doorman was always present and the front doors were never locked. Still, he wondered if that same key also opened the back door that led to the basement. It was worth checking.
Before leaving, Corbin chugged three short glasses of water in the bathroom. He looked in the mirror. The short hair and the half-grown-in mustache had changed his appearance, but only superficially. He stared into his own eyes. He was scared but also certain. Henry needed to die, and he was going to kill him.
Chapter 28
Back at 101 Bury, Corbin tried his key in the rear door’s lock. It stuck at first, then turned after he jiggled it for a while. He swung the heavy door open. He’d been right; concrete steps led down into the storage area of the building. He hesitated at the top of the steps, listening to hear if anyone was in the basement. The worst thing would be for some other resident to see his face, especially before he had a chance to find Henry. After listening for a minute, he tightened the hood around his head and stepped down into the harsh white fluorescence. There were very few places to hide in the main room of the basement area; locked storage units dominated one wall, boilers and water tanks the other. Corbin, hugging the wall, crept toward where he could see behind the water tanks. There was no one there.
He crossed the room toward the corridor that led to the back stairwells. His shoes tapped on the poured-concrete floor and he wished he’d changed into the sneakers he’d brought. He opened the door and peered into the empty corridor. Henry, if he had entered the building, must have gone up toward one of the back entrances to an apartment. It was possible he had gone to Audrey’s apartment, revisiting the scene of the crime. But it was also possible he had gone up to Corbin’s own apartment, that he was stalking Kate, for whatever reason.
He walked the length of the corridor to the stairwell that led to his apartment. He’d gone up and down the narrow stairs toward his place many times, but he’d never been so aware of how the low-wattage bulbs on each landing barely illuminated the steps. He felt almost blind, his hands on