Page 83 of Falling Too Late

“Do you need something, Ezekiel?” I asked as I shuffled through more paperwork that Foster had sent over.

My phone vibrated on the table, flashing Foster's name, but I ignored it while Ezekiel was in the room. I didn’t fully trust Ezekiel, but I didn’t feel threatened by him either. I think he missed his brother.

“No,” another shell of a pistachio was tossed to the ground, “I was just coming by to see if you were comfortable. I’m sorry the arrangements couldn’t be more luxurious.” He gestured to the room.

I was staying in his warehouse. There was a mezzanine he had fashioned into a room with a full bath attached to it. It was cold and rusty, but it worked. It was better than the jail cell.

Every few days someone would show up to the warehouse, Ezekiel would warn me beforehand. They would bring in pallets of boxes in and then after a few days, they would leave. It was an irregular thing. I ignored it. It wasn’t my business, and I wasn’t going to piss him off by being nosy.

My phone lit up with an incoming text. Foster, again.

“It’s fine. I’m grateful for what you have given me.” And I meant it. I hadn’t expected this, but it gave me a chance to adjust to being out along with keeping an eye on Wren. Figuring out all her lies before she told them to my face.

Before I made her tell me.

I reached for the phone, turning to face him, eyeing the pile of shells on the floor for a moment before looking up to him.

“I will send maid.” Every so often when he spoke, an accent that I couldn’t quite distinguish came through. I had heard it from Nikolas, too, but never questioned it.

I shook my head, “No. I don’t want anyone in my space.”

“Okay, so I get you broom.”

I didn’t respond to him. My eyes reading over the text from Foster.

Kevin had a storage unit that you are going to want to see.

Another incoming text gave me an address, and a sickening thought came to me.

Before I could delve further into the depraved place my mind was going, I grabbed the keys off the desk and went to leave. “I need to borrow the car again.”

“Where are we going?” He had fallen into step behind me. I didn’t argue with him. If he wanted to come, fine. It was his car, his place I was staying in.

“Foster found something I need to look at.”

As soon as we were in the car, my phone rang again, and I connected it.

“How does he still have a storage unit?” Kevin had been dead for years.

“I checked his bank records; he received insurance money after the fire. A good amount. The storage unit is set up on auto payment,” Foster explained.

Ezekiel rolled the window down, tossing more shells out. “How is Foster?” he said, that accent coming through.

There was a pause on the line before Foster continued, ignoring him, “My guys got the unit opened. It's a shady place, no security, and since Kevin isn’t around to complain, you shouldn’t have any issues.”

“Have they gone through anything?” I white knuckled the steering wheel; given who owned it, whatever was in there couldn’t be good. I didn’t want anyone other than me laying eyes on the contents of those boxes.

I was pissed with Wren. I was so past hurt, and on that fine line of hatred and obsession. She consumed my thoughts day in and day out. I almost let the guilt eat me alive. I almost relented and let her go. She deserved a life with someone who hadn’t broken promises to her.

Someone who could have protected her.

But I was already too far gone. She was ingrained into my being and I couldn’t carve her out.

“I had them open one box. I didn’t want to bother you with it if it wasn’t anything important and well. . . it’s not good, Harper.”

I ended the call, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. The storage unit was south of town, close to the apartment complex we had lived in. We pulled through the opened gates to the back row. One unit was opened, and a car was parked in front of it. As we pulled up, the car pulled farther up. I headed straight for the unit. Ezekiel walked to the car, talking to the driver.

It was a small unit, but it was filled with banker boxes.

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