Willow stopped on the boardwalk and wondered what the high h*ll she was doing. The letter had mentioned a warehouse, and she had stopped a nearby dockworker for directions. Sure enough, she was pointed the way, but just as she was about to leave, the man stopped her.
“Are you really sure you want to go there, miss?" he asked. “That place has been abandoned for years."
Willow looked at the warehouse and then back at the dockworker. “Why?"
A shrug was their response, and a directed whisper. “They say that some crazy guy goes in there at night, and sometimes, if you listen close, you can hear the screams of the dead."
That wasn't foreboding, at all. Nope.
Willow wasn't nervous, no. Not after all the anger had left, and realization of what she was doing set in.
It was only stubborn prid
