Chapter Six
THE STORAGE FACILITY came into view before the sun cleared the ridge.
One buzzing security lamp burned over the chain-link gate, throwing pale light across gravel, keypad post, and the low office window. Beyond it, rows of metal doors lined the lanes in dull gray strips, each unit marked with black numbers and dust gathered along the roll-up seams.
I slowed the truck before the entrance and checked the road behind us.
The road behind us stayed empty, at least for now.
My jaw tightened anyway. I eased it loose and kept both hands on the wheel while the old crucifix pressed warm against my chest under my shirt. The cross had weight this morning. So did the silence in the cab.
Jade sat beside me with her body angled toward the passenger window, one boot braced lightly against the floorboard, eyes moving between the side mirror and the road behind us.
She’d braided her pale hair back at the cabin with shaking fingers and a rubber band Crystal had found in the bottom of a duffel.
The braid left the small black ink drop behind her right ear visible every time she turned her head.
I turned back to the windshield before memory took my hands off the wheel.
Behind us, Crystal stayed low behind the front seats, folded into the cramped floor space with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her soft green sweater made her look younger than the warrant photo and more breakable than either sister would tolerate hearing.
“You still good back there?” I asked.
“No,” Crystal said from the floor. “But I’m still back here.”
A smile almost broke through. “That’s the Kemp family motto.”
“Terrible motto,” I said.
“You’re welcome to design us a better one after nobody murders us before breakfast.”
My grip tightened once on the wheel, then eased.
I rolled closer to the gate.
“Unit number,” I said.
Crystal swallowed behind me.
“B-19,” she said. “Gate code is four-one-seven-nine.”
I punched the sequence into the keypad. It gave one weak beep, and the chain-link gate shuddered aside on a rusty track that sounded too loud in the empty morning.
Jade watched the road behind us. “Still clear.”
I drove through and waited until the gate started sliding shut before I moved deeper into the facility.
The lanes were tight, just wide enough for two vehicles to pass if both drivers liked scratched paint and bad decisions.
Security lights sat at the corners of the office and on poles between the rows, but half of them were dead.
The ones still working threw hard white patches across gravel and left dark pockets between units.
“Back row,” Crystal said. “Third lane. Last unit before the corner.”
Her voice still shook, but she sat higher and wrapped one hand around the key beneath her sweater.
I didn’t park directly in front of the unit. I stopped at an angle two doors down, nose pointed toward the lane we’d come through, with enough room to move if we had to leave fast.
Jade took in the angle, then turned to me. “You expecting to peel out of here?”
“I’m expecting to have the option.”
“Romantic.”
“Practical,” Crystal said from the back.
Jade turned her head enough to look over her shoulder. “Don’t encourage him.”
I cut the engine.
Morning settled around the truck with no birds and no voices, only the tick of cooling metal, the distant hum of the gate motor finishing its track, and the soft scrape of Crystal moving behind the seats.
“Stay inside until I check the lane,” I said.
Jade’s hand was already on the door handle. “That sounded like an order.”
“It was one.”
“And here I was, thinking we’d grown.”
“We have. That’s why I’m not locking the door.”
A small curve threatened, but her eyes stayed sharp.
I got out first.
Gravel shifted under my boots. The air smelled like dust, old metal, sun-warmed weeds, and the faint oil tang that lived around storage places and small engines.
I checked the lane ahead, the corner behind the last unit, the low office window, the roofline, the camera pointed at the gate, and the dark gap between two rows where someone could stand unseen.
Nothing moved.
I opened Jade’s door. She stepped down with a tire iron in her right hand.
I eyed it.
She lifted one shoulder. “Found it under your back seat.”
“That’s for changing tires.”
“That’s adorable. It has range.”
Crystal climbed out after her, pale hair tucked into the collar of her sweater, the key chain hidden beneath the fabric. She faced the rows of doors and took one thin breath.
Jade moved closer without touching her. “Still with me?”
Crystal nodded. “Unit B-19.”
“Then let’s make this fast,” I said.
Crystal led us to the end of the row. The unit door was the same dull gray as the others, with black numbers peeling at one corner and dust caked along the bottom seam. A cheap brass padlock hung through the latch.
Her fingers slipped under her sweater for the key.
I stepped back into the lane where I could see both the unit and the route out. “Jade, you stay with her.”
“Planning to.”
“I mean beside her, not in front of the whole world.”
“I understood the note.”
She took Crystal’s left side, close enough to move with her and far enough back to keep the lane open.
Crystal’s key scraped once before it found the lock.
The padlock opened with a small click.
No one breathed.
Then Crystal pulled the latch free and gripped the handle at the bottom of the roll-up door. It stuck halfway, metal protesting with a shriek that scraped down my spine.
I watched the lane.
The lane stayed empty.
Jade helped lift. The door rattled up the tracks and stopped above their heads.
The unit was small, maybe five by ten, with a concrete floor, two plastic storage bins, three banker boxes, a cheap rolling suitcase, and a folded card table leaned against the wall.
Dust floated in the light from the lane.
The place smelled like cardboard, dry concrete, and paper shut away too long.
Crystal went straight to the second banker box.
“There,” she said, kneeling.
Her hands moved fast now. She flipped the lid, pulled out a manila envelope, then another. Printed invoices. Account statements. Deposit logs clipped in small stacks. A plastic zip bag with a flash drive. A spiral notebook full of tight handwriting.
Jade crouched beside her. “Tell me what to carry.”
“Flash drive first. Notebook. Then the invoices with yellow tabs.” Crystal swallowed. “Those are Pendleton.”
The name came out quieter than the rest.
I checked the lane again.
“Pendleton Cleanout and Hauling?” I asked.
Crystal nodded. “Those are the doubled cleanouts. Emergency charges at places nobody had moved out of. Lock changes paired with deposits that went missing.”
Jade picked up the zip bag and slid it into the inside pocket of her overshirt. “This tiny thing better be worth the ulcer.”
“It is,” Crystal said.
“You say that like you don’t owe me several drinks and a vacation.”
“I owe you bail money and therapy.”
“Excellent. We’re all aiming high.”
Crystal’s hands kept moving.
I heard the gate before I saw the truck.
Metal shuddered somewhere behind us.
Jade’s head snapped up.
Crystal froze with the notebook in her hand.
I lifted one hand, palm down, and both sisters froze lower beside the unit.
An engine rolled into the facility, rougher than mine, with a belt squeak that repeated every few seconds. Tires moved over gravel. Slow. Too slow for someone coming to grab a forgotten couch before work.
I stepped closer to the corner of the unit row and watched through the narrow slice of lane.
A white work truck turned past the office. Mud streaked the lower panels. A ladder rack sat over the bed, with tarps, buckets, and a bundle of cleanout straps strapped down under bungee cords. Black lettering covered the door.
PENDLETON CLEANOUT & HAULING
Crystal made a sound like the air had gone out of her.
Jade rose with the tire iron down at her side. “That him?”
Crystal nodded once. “Ike Pendleton.”
The truck stopped crosswise at the mouth of our lane, blocking the straight shot to the gate.
The driver’s door opened.
Ike Pendleton climbed out like a man arriving for a job he didn’t expect to argue about. Late fifties, thick through the shoulders, weathered face, gray stubble, work boots, faded jeans, and a canvas jacket with dust ground into the cuffs. He held a pry bar in one hand and a phone in the other.
His eyes found me first, then Crystal.
His expression flattened into something that wasn’t surprise.
“Well,” Ike said. “Frank said you were good.”
Crystal backed into the unit.
Jade moved with her.
I kept my hands empty and visible. “Ike Pendleton.”
He glanced at me with a rough little smile. “Guess the bookkeeper talked.”
“She’s been doing that.”
“Shame. Quiet suited her better.”
Jade took one step out of the unit. “You want to try saying that closer?”
Ike’s focus shifted to her.
Irritation crossed his face. Then his eyes moved from Jade’s face to Crystal’s, and the irritation changed.
He stared.
“What the hell is this?”
Jade smiled without warmth. “Family reunion. You bring potato salad?”
Ike’s face went red under the weathered skin. “There’s two of you.”
“That math degree is paying off,” Jade said.
Ike’s attention cut to Crystal. “Frank didn’t say anything about a sister.”
“Frank misses details,” I said.
His attention cut back to me. “And you. You were supposed to bring her here, not bring company.”
Every bit of the morning went quiet in my blood.
Jade heard it too. Her shoulders shifted, ready.
“You fed the trail,” I said.
Ike’s grip tightened on the pry bar. “Frank said you bounty boys are all the same. Put the right paper in front of you, and you’ll drag trouble straight to the door.”
Crystal’s breath shook.
Jade kept her stare on Ike. “Crystal isn’t trouble. You are.”
Ike snorted. “Crystal’s a thief on paper. Paper’s what counts.”
“No,” I said. “Paper’s what you thought would count.”
His eyes narrowed.
I took one step out from the row, putting myself between him and the unit without blocking Jade’s angle. “You came for the records.”
“I came to clean up a mess.”