Nineteen Thousand Dollars, a Forged Signature, and a Flight to the Dominican Republic
A heavy bolt slid back inside the frame with a loud snap.
Marcus put in the brass key, grabbed the metal handle, and heaved the corrugated door up.
Inside was completely dark.
Marcus switched on a heavy black police flashlight and swept the bright beam over a stack of sealed cardboard boxes, a rolling clothes rack, and a gray metal filing cabinet tucked in the corner.
Dust danced in the yellow light.
The space was packed tight from wall to wall.