I started the car again, my heart racing.

“Boys,” I called out the window. “Get in the car. We have to make one more stop.”

They ran back and climbed into the cabin, their cheeks red from the cold wind.

I pulled out of the park and headed north, toward the older, industrial part of the city.

The clouds were thickening, turning a dark, heavy charcoal gray.

I drove for twenty minutes, winding through narrow streets lined with boarded-up brick warehouses.

Finally, I found the address: a small, weathered clapboard house with a rusted metal roof.

A single lamp was burning in the front window.

I parked on the cracked pavement in front of the gate.

“Wait here,” I told the boys. “Lock the doors.”

I walked up the concrete path, the dry leaves crunching under my boots.

I reached the porch and knocked on the screen door.

Inside, a shadow moved across the window.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a frail woman with sharp, suspicious blue eyes.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice thin but firm.