I scan the building. The thumping of my heart in my ears gets faster and faster. Light-headed, I lean on Quincy’s arm. Scan the space, studying all the large windows. Then I see an office, and it looks like another exit that I must’ve missed the first time I was here.

“There,” I whisper.

Quincy nods. We head through the office, test the back door. I slowly push on it, expecting it to stay locked, but it opens. Quincy moves to exit. I look back through the building.

“Wait,” I say. “We could stay here, see who it is. Last time I went running out there, I ran right into guns being drawn.”

Quincy squeezes my hand.

We squat, wait it out. A few minutes later the door opens.

Someone’s here.

“Go,” Quincy’s voice chokes out at me. “I’ll stay. Cause a distraction if it looks like we’re in trouble.”

I shake my head. I won’t leave him here.

He begs with his eyes. I don’t budge.

Chris and Justin enter the building.

Quincy and I exchange glances.

Quincy creeps closer to the door. I follow behind as he nudges it open a crack. His T-shirt clutched in his hand, so he doesn’t touch the knob. My breathing gets shallow as I lift my phone and press record.

I swallow hard, hoping this won’t be a full-on crew of people entering.

“It’s not here, man.” Justin stalks around the room. “This place has been searched up and down by cops.”

“I don’t care,” Chris says. “Angela’s phone was found in here. That means she was in here, and we’ve gotta get that gun.”

I squeeze Quincy’s arm. He nods back.

“Maybe Scott got it back,” Justin says. “Just call him.”

“I’m not doing jack with him.”

“You act like he’s the one who killed Angela.”

“Maybe he did.” Chris’s voice is ice-cold.

“That’s fucked up, man. He’s your friend. Why blame him when you know it was Jamal’s black ass? Cops’ll find him.”

“How do we know he’s still running? Maybe Scott got rid of him, too,” Chris says. “Scott’s the one keeping secrets. He knew I was meeting Angela early.”

“Wait, you’re not serious, are you? Thought we were supposed to stick together.”

“He stole that gun. Used it out at the march and got that girl killed. Angela would still be here if he hadn’t done it.”

“No. Angela would be here if she wasn’t messing around on you.”

Chris shoves Justin.

“Sorry. Your new theory doesn’t make sense.”

“Just keep looking. Whether it was Jamal or Scott, my uncle needs that gun. If it’s found by the cops, he could be in big trouble.”

“You hear that?” I whisper to Quincy, who’s texting on his phone. “What’re you doing?”