Chapter 7: Unit 31
The storage facility was the kind of place that existed in the gap between neighborhoods — no signage visible from the main road, a single floodlight over the entrance gate, a keypad that took three tries before it accepted the code Sarah had given him.
Claire pulled in and cut the engine.
They sat for a moment in the dark.
"You said Mercer might have someone watching," Claire said.
"Sarah said it was possible."
Claire looked around the lot.
Three other cars, all dark, all still.
"I don't see anyone."
"Neither do I." Arthur opened his door.
"Let's be quick."
Unit 31 was near the back.
The key turned smoothly.
Arthur lifted the rolling door and Claire shone her phone light inside.
It was a small unit, mostly empty.
A single metal shelf along the back wall held a row of labeled boxes — tax records, household documents, children's school papers.
And on the bottom shelf, a grey fireproof lockbox.
Arthur lifted it out.
It was heavier than it looked.
Claire held the light steady while he used the second key on the ring to open it.
Inside: a USB drive in a small plastic case.
A brown folder, thick with printed pages.
A second folder, thinner, with a handwritten label that read *Notarized — Do Not Separate*.
And underneath everything, a plain white envelope with two words on the front.
*For Leo.*
Arthur picked it up and held it for a moment.
Then he set it carefully aside and opened the brown folder.
The first page was a bank statement.
The account name was a company — three initials and the word Holdings.
The transactions ran down the page in columns.
The amounts were large.
The dates went back twelve years.
Claire leaned over his shoulder.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Arthur," she said.
"That's not investment management.
Those transfers — look at the intervals.
Look at the receiving accounts."
Arthur looked.
He was not a financial expert, but he had run a business for forty years and he knew what irregular looked like.
"Gerald needs to see this tonight," he said.
"There's more." Claire was already opening the second folder.
The notarized letter was six pages, single-spaced, signed at the bottom of each page.
The notary stamp was clear and dated.
"She wrote all of this down.
Names, dates, account numbers, conversations she remembered.
Everything."
Arthur closed both folders and placed them back in the lockbox with the USB drive and the envelope.
He was about to close the lid when Claire put her hand on his arm.
"Someone just pulled into the lot," she said quietly.
Arthur lowered the lockbox lid without latching it.
They both stood still.
Headlights swept across the back wall of the unit.
A car had parked near the entrance.
The engine stayed running.
"Could be anyone," Claire said.
Her voice was steady but her hand had not left his arm.
"Could be," Arthur said.
They waited.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
The engine cut off.
A door opened and closed.
Footsteps on the gravel — slow, unhurried.
The same rhythm Arthur had heard in the hospital corridor.
He latched the lockbox.
"Take this," he said quietly, handing it to Claire.
"Go to the far end of the row.
There's a second exit near the fence — I saw it when we came in.
Call Gerald from there.
Don't wait for me."
"Arthur—"
"Go."
She went.
Arthur pulled the rolling door down, not all the way, and stepped to the side of the unit.
He could hear the footsteps getting closer.
He could see the edge of a shadow at the end of the row.
Then the footsteps stopped.
A voice came from around the corner — not Douglas Mercer's voice, younger, careful.
"Mr.
Harrison.
Mr.
Mercer just wants to talk."
Arthur said nothing.
"He knows you were at the hospital.
He knows about the storage unit." A pause.
"He's not here to cause trouble.
He just wants to make an offer before this goes any further."
Arthur stepped out from the side of the unit.
The man was in his thirties, dark jacket, hands visible.
He looked mildly surprised that Arthur had stepped out rather than stayed hidden.
"Tell Mr.
Mercer," Arthur said clearly, "that my attorney will be in contact with his attorney in the morning.
That is the only conversation that is going to happen from this point forward."
The man looked at him for a moment.
"He's not going to like that answer."
"I'm not concerned with what he likes," Arthur said.
"Good night."
He walked past the man toward the entrance of the lot without looking back.
His heart was going faster than he would have liked, but his steps were even.
Claire was waiting on the other side of the fence.
She had the lockbox under one arm and her phone in her other hand.
"Gerald's on his way to his office," she said.
"He'll meet us there."
Arthur looked back once at the facility entrance.
The man in the dark jacket had not followed.
"Good," Arthur said.
"Let's go."
They drove in silence for several minutes.
Then Claire said: "He sent someone to follow us.
To a storage facility.
At one in the morning."
"Yes."
"He's not going to stop."
"No," Arthur said.
May you like
"He's not." He looked out at the dark road.
"But neither are we."
