The Cost of Silence and the Fall of Hayes Development
I looked up as the elevator doors chimed and slid open.
The car was empty.
Before I could step inside, the lights in the hallway flickered once and went completely dark.
I stood still in the pitch-black hallway.
The smell of ozone grew stronger, mixing with the damp scent of wet concrete from the parking garage below.
A second later, the emergency backup generator kicked in with a low, vibrating hum.
Dull yellow floodlights flickered to life at both ends of the corridor, casting long, weak shadows across the carpet.
I stepped into the elevator cab and pressed the button for the lobby.
The metal doors slid shut with a heavy scrape, sealing me inside the small, mirrors-lined box.
I looked at the photograph on my phone screen again.
The laminate counter in the picture was stained with grease, and the keys looked cheap, attached to a plastic green ring.
My phone rang, the vibration sharp against my palm.
I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Claire, where are you?” Nathan asked, his voice tight and breathless.