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Chapter Thirty-Seven

“What the hell?” I remove the key and hold it up.

I reach for my laptop on the kitchen table. The smooth surface is cool against my fingertips as I lift and open the device. My brows furrow in confusion as I look at the address given to me, which brings up a storage unit on Google Maps. Anxiety bubbles in my chest as I wonder who the hell left this in my house. I run out of the kitchen and over to the front door to ensure it’s locked. Then I walk into the living room and pull the curtains shut.

I stare at the note and key in my trembling hands, debating whether to call Detective Walker. My heart races as I think about what could be inside that storage unit. But then I remember her accusing tone and the fear of being arrested as The Widowmaker consumes me. I can't risk it. I have to find out what’s in that storage unit first. Maybe I’m not crazy. This proves someone is following me, watching me, and has access to my home. If I want any sleep, I can’t stay here tonight.

I race up the stairs, toss a few things into my bag, and then grab the spare key to Oliver’s Bentley. I open the garage, throw my bag onto the back seat, and climb inside. His scent envelopes me immediately as if he had just been sitting here moments ago.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I drive to the storage unit, my stomach twisting in knots with each passing mile. Dread fills me as I think about what I might find there. But I can’t turn back now. Someone wants me to see what’s in there. I have to face whatever awaits me at that storage unit. The anticipation is almost suffocating as I pull into the parking lot.

My fingers fumble in the cup holder, finally closing around the familiar shape of the key. I step out of the car and make my way down the long row of storage units. My footsteps echo on the concrete floor as I pass rows of metal doors with vinyl numbers above each unit.

Finally, I arrived at unit 165, located at the very end of the corridor. My hands shake as I insert the key and unlock the lock. Removing it, I bend down, lift the door, step inside, and close it. My hand instinctively reaches for the taut string hanging from the ceiling, and a bright light fills the dark space with a firm tug. As my eyes adjust, I see that the only object in the space is a large black safe.

The ringing of my phone startles me, and I jump. Pulling it from my pocket, I see Samantha is calling.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hi. Travis and I are going out to dinner, and we’d like you to join us. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t tonight.”

“And you can’t stay locked up in that house all the time either,” she says.

“I’m not.” I have to come up with an excuse quickly. “My friend from Rockstead is in town. She just got in today, and I’m showing her around the city. She’s never been to New York.”

“Oh. You didn’t mention you had a friend coming to visit.”

“It was last minute. She heard about Oliver and wanted to be here. She’s only staying a couple of days.”

“Okay. As long as you’re not alone. Let’s do lunch soon.”

“We will. I promise.”

I shove my phone back into my pocket and pull out the small paper I had pushed into it before I left the house. Walking over to the safe, I punch in the number 4266519 and open it, staring at a box inside. Taking it out, I open it and gasp. It contains my jewelry that was stolen when Brian and I were attacked, along with his phone. I keep digging and find Oliver’s phone, which went missing when he was murdered. I throw my hand over my mouth as I realize this is The Widowmaker’s unit.

My legs give out beneath me, and I collapse in front of the safe. The world spins as my body trembles with fear. My gaze lands on a scrap of black fabric peeking out from behind the safe's corner. I reach for it and unwrap it, only to discover that a large chef's knife is inside. Realizing it’s the murder weapon, I drop it, and it thumps against the concrete.