Chapter 7 - Locker 408
The drive out to Route 12 Storage took twelve minutes of white-knuckled terror, my eyes constantly darting to the rearview mirror to check if anyone was following my silver sedan.
The storage facility was a sprawling complex of weathered gray metal buildings surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. The afternoon sun was dipping below the tree line, casting long, bruised shadows across the gravel drives.
I pulled up to the electronic gate, punched in the pin number I had memorized from the scratched numbers on Rowan's baby bracelet, and held my breath.
BEEP. The green light flashed, and the heavy metal gate slowly rolled open.
I drove down row four until I found Building C. Unit 408 was tucked away in the darkest corner near the back fence, sheltered by the dense pine trees of the national forest bordering the lake.
My hands shook as I stepped out of the car, the cool evening air carrying the scent of damp pine needles and wet earth. I walked up to the rolling steel door of Locker 408. A heavy brass padlock secured the latch.
I stared at it. The note hadn't mentioned a key or a combination for the padlock.
Frustration and panic flared in my chest. I reached out, grabbing the shackle of the lock in sheer desperation, and yanked hard—and the entire latch assembly slid an inch forward.
The padlock wasn't locked. The key was sitting right inside the keyhole, hidden underneath a rubber dust cap.
I twisted the key. Click.
The heavy steel door groaned as I lifted it upward, revealing a dark, cramped space lit only by the pale amber glow of the setting sun filtering through a small, dusty high window at the back.
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Inside sat a single wooden crate, a battered cardboard box marked ROWAN - 2008, and an old framed photograph leaning against the wall.
I stepped inside the dusty unit, my heart pounding in my throat, and reached for the cardboard box.
