Chapter 4
As I was about to hang up, Mark's voice came through the phone.
He must've snatched the phone from Emily.
His voice was full of menace. "Andrew. I'm warning you, don't push your luck.
"Emily is my wife. This house is our marital property! She owns half, which means I own half too.
"If you dare put up that wall today, that's unlawful occupation! I'll call the cops and have you arrested."
He thought this was his trump card.
He thought using the law to threaten me would scare me off.
Too bad for him.
He miscalculated.
I spoke into the phone, making sure every word was clear. "Alright, go ahead.
"Call them, I dare you.
"I'll be right here.
"And while you're at it, tell the cops whose name is on the deed for this whole building, land and all."
On the other end, Mark's breath hitched.
I could picture his face going pale in an instant.
Yeah.
He forgot.
Or maybe he never even cared about that detail.
I did it so Emily wouldn't get played, so she'd always have an escape route she could count on.
Legally, I was the only owner of this building, from the land to the roof.
Andrew.
I hung up and looked up at the wall, now towering ten feet high.
The sunlight was cut off.
Most of the yard was engulfed in the wall's shadow.
Upstairs, all the yelling had stopped.
A dead silence fell.
The wall was completely finished.
It stood thirty feet tall.
Like a silent, massive gray beast, it coiled around the house.
The last truckload of materials was hauled away.
The workers packed up and left.
Jack Mason gave my shoulder a friendly pat.
"Mr. Carter, just give me a call if you need anything," he said.
"Thanks," I replied.
The alley fell silent again.
It was just me and the house, now completely walled off.
It was a solid cage, locking everything in.
Inside the building, it was dead silent.
Everyone who'd been shouting and cursing just moments ago was now silent.
Looks like it finally hit them.
I wasn't joking.
I fired up the engine, but stayed put.
I parked at the mouth of the alley, where I had a clear view of the whole place.
I rolled down the window and lit up a cigarette.
I watched.
I waited.
I was the director of this show.
And I'd decide when the curtain falls.
An hour passed.
Two hours passed.
The sun was now high overhead.
Finally, there was some movement inside the building.
From the third-floor window, Mark's mother, Evelyn Evans, poked her head out.
She wasn't yelling anymore.
She had a nervous, ingratiating smile on her face, trying to test the waters.
"Andrew..." she called softly, her voice suddenly gentle.
Evelyn called out to me from the window, her voice suddenly soft and almost pleading.
I ignored her.
She continued, "Hey Andrew, it's already noon.
"None of us have had lunch yet, and there are so many people stuck in here.
"Could you open the door so we can go out and grab some groceries?"
Her voice was all sweetness now.
Like all that yelling this morning had never even happened.
I looked at her and slowly blew out a smoke ring.
Then, just to make sure she saw, I pulled out my phone and opened up a food delivery app right in front of her.
I treated myself to a full lunch, four dishes and a soup.
Meat and fish, the works.
For the delivery address, I just put: the black car at the entrance of the alley.
About thirty minutes later, the delivery guy rolled up on his scooter.
"Mr. Carter? Your food's here," he said.
"Thanks," I replied.
I grabbed the lunch box and flipped it open.
The aroma instantly filled the air.
I set the box on the hood of my car and ate at my own pace, savoring every bite.
Upstairs, Mrs. Evans's face twisted with frustration.
Her husband, Mr. Evans, pointed at me, his lips quivering, but he couldn't get a word out.
I could tell they were hungry.
Thirty-some people, after all the chaos and panic this morning.
They had to be famished by now.
Just how long could their food supplies last with thirty-five mouths to feed?
I ate slowly.
With every slow bite, I could practically feel their patience slipping away.