Chapter 5 - The Unit in Niles
The next morning, Elliot sent the first real break. A file pulled from an old shared folder before access was cut — a bland vendor summary flagging recurring payments to a company called Ashby Records Management. The address was a private storage facility up in Niles.
Rachel called immediately. "Do not go up there alone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You were absolutely planning to."
"I was weighing it."
"Nora."
"Fine. Together."
Two hours later we drove north under a steel sky. The city thinned into strip malls, then a quiet road lined with bare trees and low brick buildings. Ashby Records & Storage: climate-controlled units, artificial ferns in the lobby, disappointingly ordinary.
The manager, a round-faced woman named Marla, looked up from her computer.
Rachel did the talking. A unit connected to Kestrel Point Advisory LLC. Marla's polite expression shifted by half a degree.
"I can't release customer information without authorization."
Rachel set documents on the counter. "My client's identity was used fraudulently to open or maintain the account. Her name may be on your records."
Marla looked at me. "You're Nora Sterling?"
My heartbeat picked up. "Yes."
She glanced at the glass door, then picked up the phone. When she came back, she was less guarded and more uneasy. "My supervisor says we can give limited confirmation. There's a unit tied to Kestrel Point. Your name is listed as an authorized contact."
"I never authorized that."
"The account was opened online. Access changes were made in person."
"By who?"
She turned her monitor. A scanned driver's license. Ethan's face. Below it, a visitor log — three names over eighteen months.
Ethan Sterling.
Victoria Sterling.
And mine.
I had never set foot in that building.
I stared at the signature beside my printed name. It was close. Very close. But the loop on the N was too round, too careful. I'd seen that N before — on gift tags, on birthday cards Victoria signed for the whole family.
"We'll need all of this preserved," Rachel said.
Marla swallowed. "There's something else. The unit is scheduled for closure."
"When?"
She looked at the screen. "Tonight."
Rachel went rigid. "By whom?"
"Mr. Sterling submitted a disposal request yesterday afternoon. Full contents."
Yesterday afternoon. After the drill failed. After he didn't reach my laptop.
Rachel was already dialing. "We need an emergency hold."
Marla shifted, torn. "I can't give you access without authorization. But the disposal truck doesn't come until eight. If there's a legal hold before then, everything stops."
While Rachel stepped outside to make calls, I asked Marla quietly whether I'd ever been in.
She looked uncomfortable. "I don't work every day."
"But you've seen me."
She pressed her lips together. "I saw a woman sign your name once. Maybe six months back. Sunglasses. Blond. Very polished. She was angry — told the man with her that if he'd listened to her from the start, none of this would've been necessary."
"The man was Ethan?"
"I think so."
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Stop digging or you'll regret it.
Then a second one.
You have no idea who you're protecting.
I showed Rachel. Her eyes narrowed. "Forward those to me."
May you like
She was already back on the phone. "Yes — Judge Brandt's clerk. Tell her it concerns active identity fraud, destruction of material evidence, and a police report filed this morning."
The legal hold landed at 6:43 p.m. At 7:08, with Marla's supervisor on speaker and Rachel recording through the proper channels, they rolled the door up.
