Chapter 6 — Vincent leads Caleb and Trey toward the side gate — Then they discover a forced lock on the storage unit
Vincent held up a hand to signal for absolute quiet.
The sound of footsteps paused near the wooden side gate.
Caleb dropped his hand from Trey’s shoulder and took a slow step toward the edge of the porch deck.
“Who’s out there?” Caleb called out into the dark.
No voice answered from behind the fence.
Only the faint click of a metal latch echoed across the yard.
Vincent stepped off the bottom porch step, moving with deliberate caution toward the side gate.
Trey stayed frozen near the delivery boxes, his eyes wide and fixed on the darkness.
Vincent reached the wooden gate and pushed it open in one swift motion.
The flashlight beam cut through the narrow corridor between the house and the detached garage.
Nobody was hiding in the side yard.
The space was completely empty.
Vincent swept the beam across the damp grass and the brick flower beds.
Then his light stopped on the back wall of the detached storage unit.
“Look at this,” Vincent said, his voice dropping into a tense whisper.
Caleb hurried off the porch and jogged across the grass to join Vincent by the side storage unit.
Trey followed closely behind them, keeping his distance.
Vincent pointed the flashlight directly at the heavy metal padlock securing the storage unit door.
Deep, fresh scratches covered the brass shackle.
Metal shavings sat scattered on the concrete stoop below the lock.
“Someone tried to pick this lock,” Caleb said, leaning in closer to inspect the marks.
“Or someone used the master key we just found in the jacket,” Vincent replied.
Vincent reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the metal keys retrieved from the green jacket earlier.
He selected the smallest brass key with a notched tip.
He slid it into the padlock cylinder.
With a firm twist, the internal tumblers clicked.
The heavy lock sprang open instantly.
Vincent pulled the shackle free and set the lock down on the brick ledge.
He grabbed the iron handle of the storage door and pulled it outward.
The door swung open with a slow, heavy creak.
Musty air rushed out from the dark interior.
Vincent clicked on the overhead work light switch just inside the door frame.
Rows of dark metal shelving came into sharp focus.
Stacked from floor to ceiling were extra cardboard boxes that did not belong to Caleb or Vincent.
Caleb stepped past the threshold and lifted the flap of the nearest box.
Neatly packed inside were brand-new commercial power tools still wrapped in factory plastic.
Vincent walked down the narrow aisle between the shelves, shining his light along the equipment.
He stopped in front of a heavy-duty generator sitting near the back corner.
He stared at the serial number stenciled in white paint across the metal casing.
“This belongs to my maintenance company,” Vincent said, his jaw tightening. “This was stolen from my work trailer two nights ago.”
Caleb turned around to face Trey, who stood nervously in the open doorway.
“Trey,” Caleb said, his voice dangerously calm. “How many times has this storage unit been unlocked this week?”
“I don’t know!” Trey protested, holding his hands up. “I swear I never came over here!”
Vincent did not answer the boy.
He walked past the stolen power tools and inspected a large canvas tool case sitting on the bottom shelf.
He unzipped the main flap of the heavy canvas bag.
Inside, resting neatly on top of a set of ratchets, was a set of spare house keys on a yellow plastic ring.