Shadow Cave (Shadows #1) Read online

  Chapter Three

  Unfinished Business

  I sang in a nervous pitch as I drove along the highway to the storage facility Mike had left directions for in his note. It was as good a place as any to start. Going back to my house and digging up my backyard was not going to happen, as much as I could have used those documents. And I really did need them, but…

  But nothing, I told myself firmly. It was foolish at best to think about going back there. So I steadied my hand on the wheel and tried not to stare at the world’s gaudiest bracelet, which now hung at my wrist, and turned off the main road into the parking lot. The storage ‘building’ was more like ten buildings…the place was huge. For being off the highway and on its own, it was remarkably crowded.

  It was close to three o’clock in the afternoon and the sun was bright and cheerful. I stepped out of the car and was glad I had opted for flat shoes instead of heels as I navigated the rough gravel of the parking lot. The clothes were flashy enough without drawing further attention by falling on my face in a parking lot.

  The storage facility was actually my second, or rather third, stop of the day. The first had been an outlet mall close to the motel, where I had purchased a few necessities. Clothes, a couple of pairs of shoes, a very tacky makeup kit, some jewelry, bandanas, and a couple of hats. Mike’s mantra played through my mind: keep it simple. Black clothing and lurking through the darkness were out. For one thing, it was too predictable. For another thing, it was a moot point.

  Too many things were simply not in my immediate power to change. The little things, like my name and my car, for example. I paused and turned my eyes to the sky in a silent prayer. I supposed I could have stolen a car and found a wig shop but, like I said, once I left the country the hiding would stop. John had enough information to figure out that I would go to Africa; hopefully, he didn’t know where. No, I assured myself, if he knew where, then I wouldn’t have been necessary at all. I felt a chill as I looked up at the number on the extra-large steel door in front of me. 42. This was it.

  My hand shook badly as I tried to fit the key into the lock, which wouldn’t have been so bad, except that it caused the half dollar sized rhinestones on the gold bracelet to catch the sunlight and damn near blind me. I cursed and forced myself to calm down. You are safe for the moment, I told myself. There were no men with semi automatics waiting for me on the other side of that door.

  I peeked over my shoulder one final time before shoving the door up and leaping inside. The door clanged shut behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was no light switch, and I didn’t have a flashlight. You’d think I would have kept one in the car. After all, most people do.

  At any rate, I was forced to leave the door open. I sent up another silent prayer of thanks as I looked around the large room. Even through the dim lighting, it was easy to see that the place was immaculate, or as immaculate as stacks of boxes could get. Either way, I was grateful. I walked around the unit twice before I found the box marked ‘Dishes’ buried in the back under three other boxes.

  My arms ached and I was seriously re-evaluating the wisdom of the pencil skirt I had changed into at the gas station, my second stop. The plan was to ‘hide out in the open.’ So clothing and accessories I wouldn’t normally wear were a good bet. I’d decided to leave my hair alone. Never in my life had I been so grateful to have light brown hair that was medium length. Had it been ultra blonde or red I probably would have ended up dyeing it—more time that I couldn’t spare.

  I knelt down in front of the box with the worn tape and ‘DISHES’ neatly printed in bold black marker. In high school, I had dyed my hair ultra blonde, or at least I had tried—it wasn’t as easy to pull off as it looked. I remembered that I had ended up looking ultra cheap instead. My efforts had also been rewarded with chemical burns on my scalp. But those days had long since passed, and I had accepted that I was on the plain side. Well, a little better than plain, I thought, preening a bit as I tore open the cardboard top of the box and rummaged through the contents. Either way, the fact that nothing in particular about me stood out like a sore thumb was a definite plus. Clearly, I was out of my depth, and needed every advantage I could scrounge up.

  I grabbed the large platter at the bottom of the box and carefully turned it over. There, taped to the bottom, just as Mike had promised, was a bronze looking half circle with several grooves on it.

  “Huh,” I contemplated as I carefully turned it over in my hands. The thing felt heavier than I had expected. Despite its age, it also felt incredibly sturdy. But I had expected it to be more…ornate? To find it plain and tarnished was kind of a letdown.

  “Honestly, Claire, of all the things to be let down by right now,” I mumbled. Great, now I was talking to myself too. I all but ran back to my car and hopped inside. I debated for a moment on the best place to put the key. Shoving it into my purse with my lip-gloss and spare keys was out. Even though it was remarkably solid, the scientist in me recognized and respected that it was, first and foremost, an artifact of considerable age. I glanced around the car and finally decided on my leather tote. The zippered pocket would protect it, and it would be with the papers that I had managed to escape with.

  My next stop was a small diner a couple of towns over. I sat in a booth and sipped coffee while I debated my next move. The airport beckoned. It was the next step to take and by far the safest. But I kept thinking about Mike’s letter, and the documents that he said were buried in my backyard, of all places. I shook my head and frowned at the parking lot beyond the window to my right.

  I really wanted those documents, and even though it was stupid, I knew I would have to go back to get them. I could only hope I would be alone this time.