After waving a definitive goodbye, Lily escaped through the glass door of the storage center office, but it was only an excuse to get Sharon to leave. What Lily truly needed to do was head right back outside to check on the grounds and the fencing . . . and on the status of last night’s delivery.
Adrenaline flooded her blood again, and her heart sped right back up to its previous frantic beat. Why had she agreed to this? The first time had been an accident. The second time, her ego had gotten caught up in saying yes. This time she’d barely given it a thought, and now she felt sick with the risk she’d taken.
Managing this storage facility wasn’t just Lily’s job; it was her and Everett’s world. Their home, their security, their future. Their bubble.
She’d started feeling too safe. That was the problem. She’d landed this gig six years before, and she’d lost her gratitude for it somewhere along the way, distracted by her guilt over making Everett live like this, and resentful of how small and dingy her place in the world had become.
But small and dingy was better than out on the raw streets, exposed to every sight, sound, and threat that came along.
She may have fallen far, but she’d clawed her way back up to this ledge, and she’d be damned if she’d let her tired hands rest now. One more year and she’d be past the worst of it. She’d have her degree. She’d be ready to take on the world.
But not yet.
After standing quietly for a few minutes, she grabbed her keys and stepped outside, pausing to look for anyone watching or approaching. Things were usually quiet on weekdays before lunch. Though Saturdays could be busy enough to make her scream, nobody moved on a Monday.
She set off along the first row of large units, walking briskly, pretending to check the doors, but she was only eating up ground until she could get her eyes on her goal. She walked another row before cutting over to the high exterior fence. The top spiked up in razor wire, but none of that would make a difference if someone simply cut through the thick chain link to break in.
Everything looked secure, just as she’d suspected, the only anomaly the scraggly black cat that strolled past her without even a glance. When it wasn’t chasing field mice, it often lounged on the tops of stored trucks and cars, tolerating Lily’s presence as if Lily were the interloper.
She felt like one today, skulking around the property, eyes shifting at every shadow and whisper of wind. But this was part of her job. Checking on things.
Ears straining for the sound of approaching cars, Lily finally turned toward the open storage area of the facility. The maze of RVs and cars and covered boats never inspired a feeling of safety. It was a warren of hiding places and deep shadows, like a scene from an abandoned city in a zombie movie. A rabbit had once bounded out from a hiding spot and torn a genuine scream of terror from Lily. But today she already felt clammy with fear as she took a left turn into the deepest aisle and then another left into the next row of vehicles.
Nothing stood out about the RV she approached. The curtains were drawn tightly and the steps retracted just like all the others in storage. But her skin still prickled at the sight of it.
Lily looked to her right and her left and strained her ears for visitors again before she held her breath and tapped quietly on the door.
Nothing happened. Skin tingling with alarm, she tapped harder, quicker. “It’s me,” she whispered. The latch finally clicked and then turned before the door opened out two inches and revealed a pale oval of face in the dim interior. Thank God.
“Are we leaving?” the girl whispered.
“Not yet. I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay. Did you hear anything strange last night?”
“No. Why?” The girl’s throat clicked loudly when she swallowed. But she wasn’t a girl, of course, despite her slight bones and wide eyes. She was a grown woman in her twenties, at least. “Did something happen?” she asked, voice pitching up as the door swung farther out.
“No, everything’s fine,” Lily reassured her. “I’m just making the rounds. The phone’s not here yet, so . . . if anything happens with you or . . .” Lily inclined her head toward the woman’s taut belly.
Amber. Her name was Amber, and she seemed to be at least seven months pregnant, if not more, looking for all the world as if she’d stuffed a basketball under her pink T-shirt.
Lily wasn’t supposed to know anything about her. The less any of them knew, the better. But the woman had introduced herself the night she’d arrived.
“We’re fine,” she said, her eyes arcing past Lily to scan the area behind her as her hand curved over her abdomen.