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He’d barely gotten the words out when snowflakes started to fall. He hesitated a moment and peered up at the sky. There had been snow in the forecast, but it rarely actually happened, particularly this close to spring.

“I’ll be damned,” Joel said as he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. “My kid is going to love this. If it keeps up, maybe I’ll help him build a snowman in the morning.”

Nolan, on the other hand, would be shoveling his parents’ sidewalk. One of these days he had to get his own place.

As they entered the double doors that had once served as the emergency room entrance, Nolan activated his phone’s flashlight app. Why he hadn’t thought to bring an actual flashlight was beyond him. Too late to wonder now. The place was an even worse wreck than the last time he’d done a walk-through. The new owner had wanted the newspaper to cover his attempt to find a use for the massive property that would benefit the community.

The graffiti and mildew on the walls were nothing new. The dank smell of the place he remembered from the visit last year. He had turned the visit into an exposé—past, present, and potential future. It hadn’t gone beyond the local paper, but he’d received a good many favorable comments about the piece.

Silence was thick in the musty air. He’d have to remember that for the story. It was important to capture in words the intensity and drama of the moment. He hunched his shoulders, drawing the collar of his jacket up around his ears. It was cold for early March, but somehow it felt even colder in here.As cold as death,he mused, committing the line to memory.

Joel opened the stairwell door, and they entered the narrow space that led down to the basement as well as upward to the second andthird floors. To his surprise, the stairwell was even chillier than the main building. What did they say about temperature drops? Ghosts were in the vicinity. Maybe. Though he wasn’t much of a believer when it came to the paranormal.

Not at all, really. Except when it was part of a story. Accepting the idea as possible was an important part of the work during these occasions. Readers needed to believe that he believed.

Using his own phone’s flashlight to guide them, Joel started up the stairs first. Nolan would never say as much, but he was glad. If the guy who’d requested the meeting was some crazed psycho, he didn’t want to be the first to encounter him. It would be much better to witness all that happened from somewhat of a distance—for the story, of course.

Though the so-called Time Thief hadn’t really harmed anyone so far, if he was some sort of psychopath, the situation could escalate at any moment. To date, his modus operandi—MO—was to sneak up on his victims, drug them, and then hold them for forty-eight hours before releasing them in some random place where he and his vehicle wouldn’t be seen. The victims remembered nothing from the ordeal. Blood work revealed they had likely been drugged for the entire time. None were harmed, unless you counted the Sharpie illustrations on their bodies. Some were like maps of the solar system. Others were odd drawings of strange beings and animals. There was always at least one note written on each victim’s back, related to something about them.Too unreliableortoo obnoxious. Some characteristic or the other that appeared to be the reason they weren’t kept for further observation by the abductor.

The police hadn’t found a single clue. No prints, no nothing. Of the three abductions so far, all had happened in the surrounding county, just outside the city limits—keeping the case in the jurisdiction of the sheriff’s department. Nolan guessed that if another victim was taken, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation would be called in. Particularly since after a month and three victims, there was still nothing known about the person responsible or the potential motive for the abductions.

Maybe it was just someone having fun. A local who wanted to shake things up. Seriously ridiculous in Nolan’s opinion. This requested meeting could be the perpetrator’s way of coming clean. Perhaps a confession before disappearing. If it helped Nolan’s career, he could turn it into something not so ridiculous. Make it seem important. Wasn’t it a reporter’s job to make stories interesting? To build the hype? The whole truth was rarely as titillating as something with a little added drama or speculation.

They emerged from the stairwell onto the third floor.

“Maybe we should turn off the lights,” Joel whispered. “No need to give him a heads-up that we’re coming.”

Nolan agreed. He took one last long look at the corridor before them, then turned his app off and tucked the phone into his back pocket. As they moved forward, he held his breath in hopes of hearing even the slightest sound.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, they walked toward the room at the end of the corridor—the one from which they’d seen the light in the window. Some amount of moonlight filtered through the windows of the rooms they passed, sending faint rectangles of light over the floor. The meager glow wasn’t much, but as their eyes adjusted, it was better than nothing. Kept them from tripping over the trash and random items scattered about.

Their destination, the room at the end of the corridor, was darker than the rest. Had the mysterious person closed the blinds after flashing the light they’d seen from the parking lot? Most of the coverings on the windows in the other rooms were damaged and dangling uselessly. It was possible the stories about the little girl who haunted this particular room had kept the vandals away from it.

Always intent on being the hero, Joel held up a hand as they approached the open door. He glanced at Nolan, then entered the room first.

Nolan waited a beat, then followed, scanning left to right. He’d been correct—the blinds were closed. Not even a single bent louverallowed a sliver of light into the space. There was a murky kind of darkness in here. He should pull out his cell and use the—

A thud and then anoomphmade Nolan jump. A crash against the floor had him reaching into the near-total darkness for his friend.

“Joel?” Then he grabbed for his cell to get some light in the room.

Something pricked his neck.

Nolan twisted, stumbled away from the threat.

Something or someone moved in the darkness.

“Joel?”

The room started to spin, and Nolan swayed. His head began to swim.Needle. Drug. Damn. Time Thief.

He collapsed to the floor.

Just as his eyes closed, he felt something on his face ... warm breath. He wanted to scramble away, but his body wouldn’t move.

“Good boy.”

The words followed him into nothingness.