Page 83 of The Woman in the Garage

“Where is it?” I asked, running down the steps.

“Slow down. You shouldn’t be running. It’s in the kitchen,” he called as I rushed toward the living room.

By the time I made it into the kitchen, Santo and his long legs had caught up to me. He flicked on the light and, sure enough, there my purse was on the table.

I grabbed it with frantic hands, dumping the contents on the tabletop, then reaching inside, finding the staple I’d used to close the hidden compartment was ripped off.

I shoved my hand into the rip in the lining, not feeling like I could draw a breath until my hand closed around the new keyring.

“Thank God,” I sighed, eyes closing as I took a few steadying breaths.

It was then that Santo grabbed my shoulders, turning me and kicking up my chin with his thumb.

“Now I really need to know what is going on with those units.”

I nodded as I dropped down on the kitchen chair, putting the keys down on the table so I could slowly button my shirt again.

“I found out that my uncle had the paperwork—and keys—for twelve separate storage units.”

“Jesus,” Santo said, leaning back against the island, watching me. “Maybe we should call one of those reality TV shows—I’m joking, sweetheart,” he said as my heart plummeted. The horror must have reflected in my face as well. “Did you go to the other units?”

“I went to one.”

“Okay. Why just the one?”

“Well, it was a project to get access. But that’s… okay. I got in, then unlocked the unit, and the inside looked just like the one we went to. Except this one had more plastic containers.”

“Getting the feeling that there’s something not great in those containers.”

“They’re full of drugs.” There. I said it. It was out there. I couldn’t take it back. And, honestly, I felt like a hundred-pound boulder was lifted from my shoulders.

“Drugs?” Santo sounded dubious.

“I pulled down a plastic container and it had a bunch of clear bags full of off-white powder,” I explained. “I mean, I’m not an ATF agent or anything, but… what else could it be, right?”

“Hmm,” Santo said, brows pinching.

“Hmm, what?”

“I’m just trying to make it make sense, is all.”

“What part doesn’t make sense?”

“The part where your uncle lived in a run-down house full of crap. Maybe if you came across a load of cash stashed somewhere, I’d buy this story at surface level. But where’s the money? If we are assuming all of the units are full of drugs as well, that’s… millions. Maybe even tens or hundreds of millions.”

“What?”

“How heavy was the container? Roughly? Ten pounds? More?”

“Maybe fifteen or twenty?”

“So one container would be worth an estimated… million. Give or take. The unit had how many containers?”

“Ten?”

“Ten,” he said, sucking in a breath that expanded his bare chest in a very distracting way. “If they all had the same amount of drugs… that’s ten million. In one unit.”

“And if there are ten other units still…”

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