She checked her gear bag to be sure she had the key to the storage unit along with all the supplies she might need. Clean rags and a roll of paper towels. Spray cleaner. Rubber gloves and dust masks. A label puncher along with rolls of plastic tape in five different colors. An extra camera. Later, once she and Becca started sorting and organizing, she’d need her tripod and portable lights.

It didn’t take long to drive over to the sprawling complex of modular prefab units that squatted on the banks of Mariscotta River. This part of town was still referred to as Upper Mills, even though the mill buildings had long ago fallen into disrepair and the dam had been taken down to allow fish to spawn. The storage complex was surrounded by a chain-link fence. Emily wondered if the color scheme at Inner Peace—the metal overhead doors to all the units were saffron-orange—was supposed to remind customers of the robes worn by Buddhist monks. To her, it felt like Halloween.

She parked in front of the office, a boxy, glassed-in room that was so compact it might have housed an ATM. Visible through the window was a deserted customer service counter. The hours painted on the door confirmed that the office wasn’t staffed on Sundays, so Emily continued into the complex, making her way through the narrow alleys between units. When she found 217, she parked in front and got out. In the heat of the day, the macadam seemed to shimmer.

She approached the door of the Murphys’ unit. A padlock secured the door’s metal bolt. As with the key, the number 217 was painted on the padlock in red nail polish, most of it peeled away. It took not-so-gentle pressure to get the lock to snap open. She unhooked it, leaned down, and grabbed the door handle. Holding her breath, she started to raise the door.

The beep-beep of a horn stopped her. She turned. A golf cart, the same saffron color as the storage unit doors, pulled up alongside her. Security. The visor of a driver’s cap shaded his eyes.

“Back again?” he said. She must have looked puzzled, because he did a double take. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else. My mistake. Is this your unit?”

Just doing his job, Emily reminded herself as she beat back the impulse to tell him to butt out. She wiped away a trickle of sweat that was making its way down the side of her face. “The owner gave me the key.” How had this security guard even known that she was here? She looked around and spotted a CCTV camera mounted at the roof line, one unit away. It was aimed down at her.

“Give you a hand with anything?” the security guard said, pushing back his cap and wiping his forehead with the heel of his hand.