The footsteps below were heavy, dragging slightly on the concrete.

“Who’s down there?” Calvin called out, his voice booming through the empty rafters.

The flashlight beam instantly cut out.

Total silence fell over the warehouse again, heavier than before.

We listened to the sound of retreating footsteps, a quick scuffle of boots, and then the heavy crash of the fire exit doors swinging shut.

The echo rattled the metal rafters for several seconds.

Calvin stood up and shone his light down the stairs.

“They’re gone,” he said.

We hurried down the metal steps, our boots clanging loudly in the silence.

By the time we reached the fire exit, the door was still vibrating.

Calvin pushed it open and looked out into the snowy alleyway.

“Footprints,” he said, pointing his light at the fresh snow. “Size eleven, maybe. Leading to the street.”

“They didn’t come to steal inventory,” I said, rubbing my arms against the chill.

“No,” Calvin agreed. “They were looking for something specific. Or someone.”

We walked back toward the main office wing.

As we crossed the threshold, the overhead lights suddenly flickered back to life with a loud buzz.