He looked at me and held up three fingers.

Then he spun around, kicking the door open with his boot.

The door slammed against the interior wall with a loud bang.

Lorenzo stepped inside, his weapon raised.

“Step away from the panel!” he roared.

I followed him into the small, cramped room.

The air inside was warm and smelled of grease, copper, and gasoline.

A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly.

The room was empty.

On the concrete floor lay a heavy brass padlock, sheared in half by a pair of bolt cutters.

The metal box of the main circuit breaker was open, its wires exposed and dangling.

But there was no sign of Dr. Halloran.

Lorenzo swore under his breath, stepping over the broken padlock.

“He was just here,” I said, pointing to the floor.

A small pool of water was forming on the concrete, dripping from a wet footprint near the back window.

The window was small, high up on the wall, and the glass had been smashed.

Shards of glass lay on the ground outside, glinting in the pale light.