Inside the suitcase, packed in neat, tight, deliberate rows, were dozens more of the identical clear plastic bags.

Dozens.

Filling the whole enormous case.

The fine powder inside them varied slightly from bag to bag, some of it pale cream, some of it a darker tan, each one marked with the same careful coded letters as the row under the bed frame.

It was more of the mysterious white powder than I had ever seen in one place in my entire life, an amount that no rational explanation I could summon seemed able to cover.

“Oh my sweet Lord,” I gasped, and I sat back hard on my heels, staring into that suitcase as a wave of pure cold horror washed over me from head to foot.