Chapter Nine
A part of me deep inside—the part filled with rage and grief—wanted to tear open the box right then and pull everything of this man’s life apart. Like the act of ripping his belongings to pieces would rend the man himself asunder. But time was not on my side, and chasing anger had gotten me nowhere. Instead, I opened the lid, grabbed each of the carefully labeled and tagged items in their individual plastic bags and stuffed the lot into the biggest item in the box—Roland Teach’s holdall. It was large enough to carry everything but small enough to move easily.
With the bag full and the evidence firmly secured inside, I swung the holdall over my shoulder and hung it from my back. It was heavier than expected, and I staggered until my body adjusted to the weight.
I heaved open
