"Does she rent any other units?"
More typing, slower this time.The manager's eyebrows rose."Matter of fact, she does.Picked up a second unit about three years ago.Unit 892.Bigger one, ten by twenty.More isolated, too, it's in the back section of Building F, near the loading docks.We don't get much foot traffic back there."
Kari and Carter exchanged a look.A second unit.Bigger, more isolated, away from prying eyes.Rented three years ago—right around the time the deaths started.
"We need access to both," Carter said."Now."
The manager handed over a master key and a printed map of the facility, the units circled in red marker."247 is in Building C, second floor—take the stairs on the left.892 is in Building F, ground level, all the way in the back corner.You want me to come with you?"
"Stay here.More units are on the way—direct them to Building F when they arrive."
They moved into the facility, the afternoon sun casting long shadows between the rows of storage units.The place was quiet, almost eerily so—just the distant hum of traffic from Vanowen Street and the occasional clang of a metal door somewhere in the complex.The buildings loomed around them, identical and anonymous, each metal door hiding its own secrets.
"I'll take 247," Carter said."You take 892.We'll cover more ground that way.If you find her, call for backup before you try to breach."
Kari nodded and broke off toward Building F, her hand resting on her weapon.The buildings were labeled with large letters, faded by sun and time, the units numbered in sequences that followed their own internal logic.She made her way through the maze of identical corridors, past doors that all looked the same, counting down the numbers as she went deeper into the complex.
The back section of the facility was quieter than the rest, more isolated.The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a faint electrical hum.The units here were larger, designed for businesses or people with substantial belongings to store.And they were farther from the office, farther from the street.
Farther from anyone who might hear a scream.
Unit 892 was at the end of a long corridor, its orange door identical to all the others except for the heavy padlock securing it.Kari approached slowly, listening for any sound from inside.
Nothing.
She tried the master key on the padlock.It turned smoothly, the lock clicking open.She removed it and gripped the handle of the roll-up door, her other hand on her weapon.
The door rattled upward, flooding the interior with light.
Inside, bound to a chair with duct tape over her mouth, was Tayen Chee.Her eyes went wide when she saw Kari—not with fear, but with desperate, overwhelming relief.She was alive.Dehydrated, terrified, but alive.
"Tayen."Kari rushed forward, pulling out her radio to call Carter."I found her.Unit 892.She's alive—"
She heard the footstep behind her a fraction of a second too late.
Something hard connected with the back of her skull, and the world dissolved into darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kari came back to consciousness slowly, pain blooming at the base of her skull like a dark flower unfurling its petals.She was lying on cold concrete, her cheek pressed against grit and dust, the world swimming in and out of focus as she tried to remember where she was and what had happened.The air smelled of must and metal and something else—fear, maybe, the sharp scent of human terror.
Tayen.The storage unit.She'd found Tayen alive—
And then someone had hit her from behind.
Kari forced her eyes open, fighting through the nausea and disorientation that made the world tilt and spin.She was inside the storage unit now, lying on the concrete floor a few feet from where Tayen was still bound to the chair.The duct tape had been pulled from her mouth—Diana must have removed it while Kari was unconscious, wanting to talk to her captive, to explain, to make her understand.
The roll-up door had been pulled down, leaving them in darkness broken only by thin strips of light seeping through the gaps at the bottom and sides of the door.Dust motes danced in those slender beams, the only movement in the otherwise still space.
And standing between Kari and the door, silhouetted against those strips of light, was Diana Shepherd.
She looked different than she had at the café—her hair disheveled, her clothes rumpled.But her eyes were what caught Kari's attention.They were bright with something that might have been tears or might have been madness, burning with an intensity that made Kari's skin crawl.
"I didn't want it to be this way."Diana's voice was eerily calm, almost sad, at odds with those burning eyes."I liked you, Detective.I really did.You reminded me of some of the girls I've helped over the years.Strong.Determined.Willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about."
Kari tried to push herself up, but her arms felt like they were made of wet sand, trembling and weak.Her weapon was gone—she could feel the empty holster at her hip, the absence of the familiar weight that had been her constant companion for years.Her radio too.Diana had taken everything while she was unconscious.
"Why?"Kari managed to croak, her voice rough and dry."Why kill them?They trusted you.They looked up to you."
