I drove fast, my boots dripping water onto the floor mat.

I kept checking my mirrors, half-expecting to see the headlights of Mark’s black SUV looming behind me.

But there were only the red taillights of distant cars.

The industrial district near 4th Street was completely dark and desolate.

Abandoned brick buildings stood like giant headstones against the rainy sky.

I pulled up to the old warehouse, its rusted corrugated iron walls dripping with water.

A single silver sedan was parked near the loading dock.

It was Yasmin’s car.

I turned off my headlights but left the engine running, just in case I had to make a quick escape.

I grabbed the heavy metal flashlight from the glove compartment.

I stepped out into the pouring rain and ran to the side door of the warehouse.

The door was slightly ajar, scraping against the concrete floor as I pushed it open.

“Yasmin?” I called out into the darkness.

My voice bounced off the high, metal rafters, sounding small and hollow.

The smell of grease, rust, and damp earth filled my nose.