Page 28 of The Woman in the Garage

Sure, the girl at the desk was likely scrolling on her phone and not watching the footage. But if something creepy happened, the footage could go to the cops, and they could find the person. Especially because there was a secure, coded gate.

Who would risk that?

I was being silly.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my feet to move forward toward my unit, ignoring the way it felt like a hand was closing around my throat with each passing second.

Diligence was good, I reminded myself; paranoia was not.

No lights other than the ones above me clicked on, so by the time I rounded my unit, my shoulders weren’t up by my ears anymore.

And there was no one in my unit.

I shook my head at myself as I brought my boxes over toward the others I’d brought in.

Everything was fine.

Until I turned to walk away again, and something nettled at me about the unit. Like something felt off. When I turned in a circle, though, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Chalking it up to some lingering paranoia, I made my way back out to my car, fighting to get the boxes out of the cramped back seat without its own doors for a minute before making my way back in.

I paused this time, looking around. But the whole building was dark, save for the lights directly above my head.

Still, I couldn’t shake that little sliver of discomfort sliding down my spine as I made it to my unit once again.

I put my boxes down.

But when I turned, I knew immediately what was wrong this time.

One of the storage tubs was missing.

My belly flip-flopped.

And I suddenly realized what had felt wrong the last time that I hadn’t been able to pinpoint.

That same box, the one that was now missing, had the top askew. When I’d touched it, I’d just barely unclipped the top from the handle. I definitely hadn’t knocked the lid loose.

So when I’d seen those lights coming from the unit, it hadn’t just been someone passing by. Someone had come in, had touched things that didn’t belong to them.

Then, when I’d left to get more boxes, they had come back… and taken the same box.

What the hell?

Who would do something like that?

And, maybe more importantly, what was in the boxes?

I mean, they’d come once to snoop. Then they’d come back again to steal. Clearly, there was something valuable in the box. Possibly in all of the boxes.

With a cold sweat inching down my spine and goosebumps prickling up on my bare arms, I made my way over toward another of the plastic containers while trying to keep an ear out for any sounds in the building.

I tried to assure myself that if someone had stolen something, surely they’d already cleared out, gotten the hell out of there before I could go to the office and complain, had the police called.

I sucked a slow, deep breath in as I unclipped the lid.

But it was right then that I heard a door somewhere in the building slamming.

My stomach twisted.

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