The garage door began to close, the heavy metal slats shutting out the red and blue lights of the city.

And in the final moment of light, I saw a shadow move near the back of the stairwell.

Someone was still watching us from the dark.

The shadow stepped forward, the light catching the edge of a wet overcoat.

It wasn’t Vance, and it wasn’t the police.

The man smiled, a familiar, predatory grin that made my blood run cold.

Carl Brenner.

He had never left the building.

The metal door slammed shut, plunging us into absolute darkness.

In the quiet of the car, I heard the sound of a match striking.

A small flame flared in the shadows of the stairwell, illuminating his face for a brief second before it went out.

“Go, Paul,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “Go!”

But the engine sputtered and died, the dashboard lights flickering once before turning dark.

We were trapped in the basement, the cold air filling the car as the heater stopped blowing.

The sound of a heavy footstep clicked on the concrete, coming closer to the car door.