Elliot Marsh knew the El Cajon storage facility. He had driven past it a hundred times on the way to the trailhead. He knew the manager, a man named Ron who played solitaire on his computer and did not ask questions. He knew that the units were rented by the month and that the rent was paid in cash.
What he did not know was which unit belonged to Martin Blakely.
I knew, or I thought I knew. In the first life, the unit number had been in the article. Unit 47. The reporter had noted it because it was on the end of one of the long interior corridors, which made it easy to reach without being seen from the office.
Elliot Marsh went to the facility on a Wednesday afternoon and paid Ron twenty dollars to let him look around, which was the kind of thing that a county ranger could get away with
