CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
They arrived at Roy’s Storage just after three o’clock in the afternoon. It was situated in an old parking lot, fenced in by black metal slats. The neighboring businesses were a barber shop and what appeared to be an abandoned and long-neglected bakery of some kind. An auto garage sat across the street, one of the bay doors blocked off with spare tires. It wasn’t quite what some might call the “bad part of town” but it was pretty close.
They pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of the main office. There were two other vehicles there. Wasting little time, they walked directly inside where they found a man—presumably Roy, the owner—sitting behind a counter with his feet kicked up. He was scrolling through f*******: on his phone. He looked up at Mackenzie and
