Page 4 of The Escape Plan

I really need to sleep.

“You talking to yourself, or to me?” a man grumbles from behind me, and I turn to see a bearded guy giving me a funny look. He’s wearing dirty jeans and is holding a toolbox in one hand. He also has a phone pressed to his ear, but he’s definitely addressing me, not whoever might be on the other end of the line.

“Uh, myself, I guess,” I admit with a wry smile.

The guy raises a dark brow, then takes a step away from me. Which is totally understandable. Although not quite in the vein of the small-town friendliness Mr. Prenchenko promised me.

I glance at the magpie one more time, then watch as another one comes to perch on the railing nearby.

Two for joy.

That’ll do nicely. Two magpies together definitely bode for a good start at my new residence. So much so that I grin… and then promptly rearrange my face to neutral as the handyman gives me another wary look.

Before he can try to have me committed or something, I grab my guitar case, suitcase, and backpack and make a beeline for the stairs, checking the instructions on my phone again.

Mr. Prenchenko’s email says he left two keys in his mailbox for me: one for the front door of his apartment, and one for the front door of the building.

And said mailbox is… inside the building. In the lobby. Of course.

Kind of an important detail to overlook there, Prenchenko.

I sigh as I read the instructions again and see that a building manager, Steve, is mentioned. Maybe I can knock on the front door and hope this Steve guy will let me in.

I’m about to do just that, but I give the door a little push first—just in case.

To my surprise, it opens.

I walk right in.

The heavy door shuts behind me with an unceremonious bang, and I take a moment to assess my surroundings.

This place is…insane. In a good way. The lobby is large, with an old-fashioned wooden front desk that sits unoccupied and shiny hardwood floors. To the right, there’s a sweeping grand staircase.

Not quite what I was expecting—for some reason, I imagined more the tall and modern apartment building fromFriends. But this place has a super cool vintage-y vibe so far. Or, as Callan would say,lethal.

I quickly locate the wall of mailboxes by the staircase and scan them until I find one labeled “Prenchenko.” It’s got a combination lock, and I enter the code he wrote out for me in his email. Pull the knob.

Nothing.

I enter the code again.

Still nothing.

I rattle the little knob, but the box stays firmly shut.

Maybe I’ll need to summon Steve the building manager after all. I scan Prenchenko’s email once more, but there’s no mention of where Steve’s office is, nor a number for him.

Details are apparently not Prenchenko’s forte.

The email does, however, mention that the owner of the building lives on the fourth floor. Hopefully they can help me?

Not like I have another choice, so I guess I’ll go find out.

With a shrug, I head for the elevator.

Chapter Two

Keeley

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