Not a drop point.

Not a stash for a return trip in some shadowy enterprise.

Just an overpacked bag and a woman who figured she would swing by the next day and grab the overflow.

I have noticed that this is almost always how the mundane truth arrives when it finally displaces a dramatic theory, not with a bang but with a shrug, an explanation so ordinary and so slightly embarrassing that you feel foolish for ever having needed one.

The dramatic version of events is always more elegant than the truth.