We drove twenty minutes across town to a brick building in the Heights.

The streets got narrower the farther we got from the corporate center.

We walked up three flights of stairs in total silence.

Daniel kept checking over his shoulder at every landing.

Clara opened her door before I could even knock.

Her apartment was small and lined with towering bookshelves.

A narrow wooden dining table sat near a window overlooking the street below.

Clara took the coffee tray from Daniel and set it on the kitchen counter.