Chapter 10 - Unit 314The storage facility sat between a tire shop and an empty furniture showroom. Unit 314 smelled of dust and old cardboard. Inside were accounting ledgers, a dented lunchbox, and a steel cabinet secured with a second lock.
My key opened the front gate. It did not open the cabinet.
"Grandpa's key," I said.
Dad rubbed his forehead. "His possessions are in my study. We can look when we get back."
Denise went straight to the lunchbox. She lifted the lid and found a folded drawing of a small yellow house. On the back, in a child's uneven handwriting, were the words DAD COME HOME SOON.
"Our daughter made this," she said. "She was eight."
Nobody spoke. Denise slipped the paper into her coat and turned away.
Tessa photographed every shelf before we moved anything. In a ledger, I found repeated payments to a shell company called North Pier Logistics. The company address matched an empty lot.
"That's a money trail," Tessa said. "Not proof of a crime by itself, but enough to warrant a serious examination."
A loud crash came from the corridor. Todd, who had volunteered to help carry boxes, stumbled backward as someone slammed the outer door. A man in a gray hoodie ran past carrying Denise's tote bag.
"Stop!" I yelled.
I took three steps before Dad caught my sleeve.
"Naomi, no."
The thief disappeared through the gate. We weren't going to catch him on foot. Security footage might catch his face, though, and Todd called the facility manager.
Denise checked her pockets. "He didn't get the key."
"He got your bag," I said. "What else was inside?"
"My medication. My wallet." She paused. "And a letter Curtis wrote the week before he died."
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A folded slip of paper had fallen from the bag during the struggle. I picked it up. It was a parking receipt dated the night of the fire. The printed license plate belonged to a company vehicle.
The assigned driver was Adrian Pike.
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