Claire's POV

The huge warehouse was like a maze of towering shelves and piles of crates climbing into the blackness.

Scanty fuzzy fluorescent lights barely lit portions of the space and plunged others into darkness. I ran down one of the aisles, pounding my feet on the concrete. The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of wood and grease and I saw crates that had old labels that said "Riverfront Exports," faded and gray. They had loose tops, filled with paper or fragments of crushed ...