Chapter 9: The Storage Unit
The storage unit smelled of dust and old paper.
Harlan’s team found a folded blue hospital discharge blanket with a serial sticker still attached, a printed copy of Spencer’s old clinic consent form, and a prepaid phone with three numbers: Julian’s secondary, a disconnected line, and Pamela’s department desk. They also found a woman’s purse with Jocelyn’s ID and a cracked phone that forensics would spend days on.
No body. Not there. Harlan refused to let hope or despair write the report prematurely. Spencer stood behind the tape and felt the purse like a verdict on every dinner where Julian had smiled across wine.
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Victor filed for emergency restraints barring Julian from contact with Charlee, Dexter, Florence, and estate staff. A judge signed. Paper became a wall the mansion should have had years earlier.
That night Charlee woke from a nightmare about rain. Spencer sat in the hallway outside her door, as he had once sat outside boardrooms waiting for votes, and listened until her breathing evened. Dexter’s monitor glowed a steady green. Mabel left cocoa on the side table without comment. The house, for once, used its size to hold safety instead of distance.
