“Miller Street.” Noah was already pulling up a map on his phone, the screen’s glow catching the planes of his face. No trace now of the vulnerability she’d glimpsed in Jacob’s office. She should be relieved. Instead, her chest ached like she’d let him down.
“The cheapest one,” Sabrina said with certainty, shoving the feeling aside. “A building with the broken security door and no cameras.”
His answering smile hit her sideways. Because it wasn’t his normal one. “Lead the way, Officer West.”
She did, because forward motion was the only defense against thinking about things she shouldn’t be. Like how to fix Noah so they could get back to having fun. And that thought made her feel worse, because what was he, a trained monkey?
The drive to Miller Street stretched under weighted silence. Noah stared out the window, clearly somewhere else entirely. She should say something. Ask about his dad, about Susan.
But what if she got it wrong? She’d never had a relationship before, never wanted one, never practiced how all this type of stuff worked. What if she pushed when he needed space or stayed quiet when he needed to talk? She was better with physical challenges. Give her an impossible climbing route over relationship navigation any day.
Noah would talk if he felt like it.
The apartment complex matched her prediction exactly. Peeling paint, cracked concrete, sheets hanging in windows instead of curtains. A maintenance worker slouched against the wall, cigarette dangling, looking about as welcoming as a rattlesnake guarding its den.
Noah shifted closer to her as they approached, walking side by side. She wished he’d take her hand like he had in the parking lot of Jacob’s office, but he didn’t.
“We’re looking for this woman’s apartment,” Noah said as he showed the picture again, projecting that easy charm that seemed to work on everyone. “Her name is Annie Ross.”
Except it didn’t work on snake-den guy, whose expression didn’t change. He took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “Don’t know nobody by that name.”
Was this guy for real?
Sabrina stepped forward, letting her official USFS attitude fill the space between them. “Then you won’t mind if we check the rent records. Unless you’d prefer that we take it up with your boss. I’m sure he’d loved to be dragged into a simple matter like this one after you refused to cooperate with a law enforcement officer.”
The worker’s face shifted. Message received.
“Unit 3C,” he muttered. “But I ain’t got a key. Manager’s gone for the day.”
Noah glanced at her, silently communicating that she should continue.
“Call him.” Sabrina crossed her arms and gave the worker a look. “This is official business.”
“Can’t. He’s at his kid’s recital or something.” The worker took another drag. “Try tomorrow.”
Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Annie’s trail was already ice cold. They needed in that apartment now.
“What about maintenance access?” Noah asked, shooting the guy a half smile. “Surely you have override keys for emergencies. Burst pipes, that kind of thing?”
The worker’s hesitation told her they were onto something. She recognized Noah’s strategy now—good cop to her bad cop. They hadn’t even planned it. Just fell into sync like they’d been working together for years instead of days.
“Look,” Noah continued, “we can do this the easy way—you let us in, we’re out in twenty minutes. Or we can call it in, wait for a warrant, have a whole circus of officials crawling over this place for hours. Your choice.”
She bit back a smile. He made it sound so reasonable. Like he was doing the guy a favor instead of threatening to rain bureaucratic red tape all over his parade.
The worker muttered something unflattering but straightened up. “Fine. But you didn’t get the key from me.”
“What key?” Noah asked innocently as a ring of jangling metal appeared from the worker’s pocket.
They followed him up three flights of creaking stairs. The whole building smelled of stale cigarettes and desperation. Their footsteps echoed off concrete walls painted an institutional shade of yellow that reminded Sabrina of her elementary school cafeteria.
A door cracked open down the hall as they passed, then quickly shut. Through the thin walls, Sabrina could hear the murmur of a TV, someone’s music, a baby crying. Life going on behind closed doors. But there was something else—a watchfulness. As if she could feel eyes tracking them through peepholes.
The maintenance guy caught her noticing. “Folks here like their privacy,” he said with a shrug that wasn’t quite casual. “Kind of an unwritten rule. Nobody asks questions. Nobody causes trouble.”
“Sounds peaceful,” Noah commented mildly.
The worker snorted. “Yeah. Real peaceful. That’s why the old lady in 2B sits by her window all day, calling neighbors if she spots certain cars pulling in. Why half these units got extra deadbolts that ain’t on the lease. Privacy ain’t about peace.”
