either banister. When he reached the back entrance to his apartment, he pressed an ear against the door, straining to hear anything, but there was no sound. He honestly did not know what to do. Henry had disappeared. If only he’d had his keys on him earlier, then he’d have been able to follow Henry into the basement. Henry could be anywhere now.
Corbin decided that the best course of action would be to return to the basement, hide behind the water tanks, and hope that Henry reappeared.
He was about to start down the steps when he heard something, a sound from below. He stood perfectly still. It was footsteps, quiet but steady. Someone was coming up the stairs.
In a panic, Corbin fumbled for his keys, feeling for the one that opened the doors to his apartment. He slid the key into the knob and, quietly as he could, opened the door, stepped into the dark kitchen, and closed the door behind him.
He stood, still as possible, listening for sounds from the stairwell, but also listening for any sounds coming from within the apartment. His eyes adjusted until he could see the kitchen in the moonlight streaming in through the window. For a moment, there was pure silence, then he heard the approaching footsteps, slow and careful, on the other side of the door. They stopped on the landing. Corbin gripped the box cutter, using his thumb to slide out the blade. Suddenly, the weapon felt inadequate, the blade sharp enough but too small. He’d have to take a perfect shot at Henry to do any damage. Moving slowly, his eyes on the glint of the doorknob, he backed toward the nearest counter, pressing up against it. He slid his left hand along the granite countertop and found the block where the knives were kept. He felt with his fingers for the largest handle and removed the knife. He put the box cutter back in his pocket and switched the knife to his right hand.
What was happening on the other side of the door?
If it was Henry, and he was waiting, for whatever reason, to enter the apartment, Corbin would wait as well. With his free hand on the edge of the countertop, he slowly and quietly moved farther back so that he was partially hidden in the alcove next to the refrigerator. He concentrated on his breathing, making sure it was steady and silent.
He heard something, not from behind the door, but from the interior of the apartment. The rustle of clothes, bare feet on the wooden floors, and Kate was suddenly walking past the kitchen toward the bedroom. If she’d entered the kitchen, or even just turned to look in, she would have seen him. He remained perfectly still, listening. The toilet flushed, and he heard the familiar clunk in the plumbing, the tap being turned on. Moving quickly, Corbin left the kitchen and entered the large living room, lit by a single lamp; he crossed to the darkest part of the room and hid behind the curtain. A few minutes passed and Kate crossed back through the living room. He only heard her steps, and not the rustle of her jeans. She must have changed into whatever she slept in.
After five minutes, he stepped halfway out from behind the curtains. He could hear the faint sounds of the television in the den. At least now he knew where Kate was; it was only a matter of waiting to see if Henry appeared. He stayed where he was, listening intently. An hour, or what felt like an hour, passed. Corbin began to wonder what he was doing there, what he hoped might happen. He even began to wonder whether he’d really heard anything on the stairwell below him. Maybe he’d imagined it. These were the thoughts that were going through his head when Henry Wood, casually, as though he lived there, walked into the living room. Corbin, frozen, watched him, his fingers numb where they held the knife. It was definitely Henry, his hair cut short and dyed, wearing a dark midlength coat with an upturned collar. He was headed toward the den.
Corbin dropped to one knee and yanked his shoes off, one by one. Why hadn’t he done that earlier?
In his socks, being careful not to slip, he moved down the hall and entered the den. A black-and-white movie filled the screen. Kate was under a blanket on the leather couch, clearly asleep. There was no sign of