Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 335

Wren Whitaker arrived at Channing Road Storage Depot at 8:40 AM, where Robert Lawson was already waiting by the entrance.

The depot sat on the edge of the old city district. Its outer walls had been painted over multiple times, but the layers of peeling, grayish-white paint still failed to conceal the dark, damp stains seeping from underneath. A blue-and-white sign hung beside the main gate, its lettering so weather-beaten it looked like a crumpled sheet of paper that had been repeatedly flattened out and hung back up.

Phoebe Price stepped out of a cab, clutching her laptop bag, her hair slightly damp from the morning mist.

"I checked again last night," Phoebe said, hiking the bag up her shoulder. "After Vanguard Trading Co. was dissolved, there were no new public lease records for Unit 3. Logically, the depot should have either evicted the contents or renewed the lease under a personal name. But the file just goes blank."

Wren stared at the heavy iron gate.

"The cleaner it is, the more it proves someone is terrified of what's hiding inside."

Robert pushed up his glasses. He didn't reply, simply handing the prepared authorization paperwork to the security guard.

The guard, a man in his fifties wearing a faded blue uniform, eyed the three of them as he took the documents.

"Which unit are you looking for?"

"Unit 3," Robert replied smoothly. "The tenant is Vanguard Trading Co. We are authorized by the relatives of the late Vivian Vance to inspect her belongings."

Hearing "Unit 3," the guard's fingers noticeably paused.

It was a very slight hesitation, so faint that anyone not paying close attention would have missed it.

But Wren saw it.

The guard took the paperwork into his booth, and the sound of a phone dialing soon followed. He spoke in a hushed voice, impossible to make out through the glass, but his back was turned and his shoulders were rigidly tense.

Phoebe took a few steps to the side, scanning the street across from the gate.

A black van was parked on the opposite side, its windows tinted heavily. The morning rush hour traffic flowed seamlessly around it, but the vehicle remained completely still.

"Someone got here before us," Phoebe murmured.

Wren didn't turn around.

She watched the man in the security booth hang up the phone and slowly flip through their paperwork again. He flipped the pages deliberately, as if waiting for his next command.

Ten minutes later, the guard stepped out, feigning a look of professional difficulty.

"I'm sorry, but Unit 3 can't be inspected right now."

"Reason?" Robert asked.

"The system flagged it in red. It says the tenancy needs verification. I don't have the clearance to open it directly."

The door wouldn't open today.

She had anticipated this outcome before she even arrived. Quentin Whitaker's phone call last night had fully exposed his guilty conscience. What she truly wanted to confirm was whether they would panic.

The answer was standing right in front of her.

They were panicking.

Robert had the guard sign a visitor log, explicitly noting "Access denied, pending verification." The guard initially refused, but when Phoebe opened her laptop and threatened to email corporate headquarters on the spot, he reluctantly scribbled his name.

Wren signed her own name. As she looked up, she noticed the black van across the street slowly inch forward, then stop again.

She didn't stare for long, simply capping her pen.

"Let's go."

Phoebe hurried after her. "We're just leaving?"

"Arguing at the gate won't get us anywhere." Wren snapped a photo of the visitor log and sent it to Robert. "The fact that they're blocking us means there's something inside they're terrified I'll see. We need a formal written response, and we need to find out exactly who made that phone call at seven this morning."

Robert nodded. "I'll handle it. I'll send a legal notice to the depot this afternoon and file a request to preserve the security footage."