A block away, the dark shape of a four-story brick building stood silent.

It had a faded green wooden door at the entrance.

The windows on the upper floors were completely dark.

“Marcus’s car is parked across the street,” Adrian whispered, pointing toward a silver sedan.

The driver’s side door of the sedan was slightly ajar.

The interior light was not on, suggesting the battery might be dead or the bulb broken.

“We need to be careful,” Adrian said, reaching into his coat pocket.

He pulled out a small, heavy flashlight.

We stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting my face.

The smell of salt water and diesel fuel from the nearby river hung thick in the air.

We walked quickly across the damp pavement toward the green door.

Adrian stepped up to the keypad, his fingers hovering over the dusty buttons.

He pressed one, nine, six, and six.

The keypad beeped, and a small green light flashed.

The lock clicked open with a heavy, metallic thud.

Adrian pushed the door open, the old hinges groaning in the quiet night.