Alex took the rear staircase up. She'd been waiting for the elevator a good four minutes, but it only groaned and rattled, never quite making it the full way down.
The clack of her heels echoed loudly off the concrete walls, expensive shoes out of place in a room decorated only with the swirls of spray-painted gang signs.
It could almost be construed as abstract art, if she squinted a little. Such a thing was to be expected from dirt-cheap dives like this one.
The scribbled mural ended abruptly at the top of the stairs.
The third-story hallway was only dimly lit, but Alex could see how that might serve as an advantage to anyone who didn't want to be recognized upon first glance.
Door 322 easily blended in to the nondescript corridor, and she could have walked straight past it had she not been searching so intently.
She tapped the brass knocker against the wood three times and waited patiently for a response from within.
While there was neither a guarantee that the occupant was home or would answer even if he was, Alex was feeling optimistic.
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