Chapter 8 - The Abandoned WarehouseThe rain was coming down in sheets by the time my old sedan pulled off the highway onto the deserted industrial docklands outside Gary, Indiana. The GPS coordinates scribbled on the back of a hospital admission form—left on Chloe’s empty bed alongside a single, blood-stained metal key—were burned into my brain.
If you want the girl alive, come alone.
The headlights cut through the pouring rain, sweeping across the rusted, corrugated metal siding of an abandoned shipping warehouse. The windows were smashed out, and the double doors hung crookedly off their hinges, groaning in the gale-force wind.
I parked the car, killed the engine, and sat for a moment in the dark, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my fingers were numb.
I was an old woman. I had bad knees, a weak heart, and no weapon other than a tire iron rolling around in the trunk. But inside that warehouse was my granddaughter—the only piece of my son’s soul that hadn't been completely devoured by greed and darkness.
I popped the trunk, grabbed the heavy iron bar, and stepped out into the freezing downpour.
The rain soaked through my coat instantly, chilling me to the bone. I pushed open the creaking metal doors of the warehouse and stepped inside.
The interior was cavernous, illuminated only by the pale beams of lightning flashing through the broken skylights overhead. In the center of the vast concrete floor stood a familiar, horrifying object.
May you like
A polished wooden casket, its lid propped open.
And standing beside it, holding a small, silver syringe under the harsh beam of a portable work light, was Victoria.
