“Why would I need you to stay here?”

He shrugs, still smiling but a bit more serious. “Lots of cabs outside Grady Hospital, not so much here.” He gestures at the general vicinity. “And a nice girl like you, walking alone in this place …” He trails off and shrugs again.

I look him in the eye. “I’m not a girl,” I say. “I’m not nice, either.”

His eyes widen. “No offense, miss.”

I grin, hoping it doesn’t come across as threatening. “None taken. Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” I grab my duffel and get out of the cab, then lean back in the open rear door. “You got a card?”

Fitzroy passes me a card with his name and number. I pocket it and close the door, and he gives me a casual salute as he drives off into the evening.

This Store-N-Go has everything I want in a self-storage facility: privacy, good security, and 24/7 access for customers. I type in the entrance code on a pad at the side door, and the door unlocks with a click. It leads directly into the storage units—no need to bother with anyone in the front office. I step into a well-lit hallway and walk past several storage bays, all with orange pull-down doors. My footsteps echo off the concrete floor. I stop at Unit 127 and unlock the combination padlock, then pull the orange door up, the loud ratcheting of it echoing through the empty building.

The storage unit is five feet wide and fifteen deep, essentially a large walk-in closet. No ball gowns or dress shoes in here, though, just some plastic storage bins and duffel bags. I make sure no one is in the hallway before I step inside the unit. I have similar storage units in half a dozen cities, all paid for on a monthly basis by a dummy corporation Uncle Gavin set up. It’s a lot more convenient than hauling a bunch of gear around with me.

From one storage bin I take a tactical jumpsuit, a pair of leather-reinforced high tops that are lighter than they look, and a leather jacket. I strip right there in the unit and put on the jumpsuit. Pretty sure that’s against Store-N-Go’s company policy, but oh well.