Mike yawned, took a swig of the semi-cold instant coffee and grimaced at how bad it tasted. He needed the caffeine, though. The footage on the screen from the lower lobby, the one from the camera pointing down the central passage showed them heading into it, toward the kitchen. As Tara had remembered, Scotty had been behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The brightness of the lights got to the point that it whited out the camera and the screen became bleached in white triggering a contrast warning in the recording. As it whited out the recording suddenly stopped, the point where the breaker had tripped. Mike ran it back and played it through again at half speed and dropped the brightness to its lowest setting, hoping to find something, anything at all in the last few seconds before the pow
