Chapter 8The warehouse was a large grey building that seemed to be the length of a football field. The sign on the front was generic—warehouse number 72—but they were sure this was the right place. The same sinking feeling that Jesse had on the phone with the clown had returned. There was no doubt that this was where the remaining models of that hideous design were held.
“How are we supposed to get in?” Jesse wondered aloud. They had parked in a half-filled lot. The sun was setting in the back of the store, casting eerie shadows over the grey building. “And what if it’s not even open right now?”
His second doubt was discarded as a man in a grey plaid shirt walked out of the front door. He held a silver lunch pail and wore heavy duty work boots. Another man followed him, wearing much the
