The place Mitch told them to go was in a part of the city that time had forgotten. It was a neighborhood of quiet sadness, where businesses that had failed long ago sat empty and the people who lived there kept to themselves, trying not to be noticed. The "A-Plus Storage" facility fit right in. It was a long, single-story building the color of old sand. A fence of sharp, coiled razor wire ran along the top of its chain-link fence, and a single security light buzzed and flickered, casting a weak, yellowish glow on the endless rows of identical metal garage doors.
It was, they all realized, the ideal spot to hide something you never wanted found.
