Memory Sticks (43)
And on the third shelf, this on the opposite wall:
— Item one.
A small pile of women’s clothes, filthy but folded neatly: a torn t-shirt, a Nike sweater, a pair of faded jeans. Alis unfolds them and photographs each in turn.
The sweater has a small bloodstain over the right breast.
— Item two.
A pair of mirrored sunglasses with round frames. One lens is cracked.
At the back of the lock-up is a vaguely cylindrical item under a tarpaulin.
Alis estimates its dimensions: height, 1.9M; circumference, 0.9M. She steps forward to pull back the tarp, but as she raises her hand, she shudders for no reason she can explain.
— I think that’s enough for today.
She steps outside as quickly as she can, turns off the light and shoves the door back into place, letting it screech.
The rain’s stopped, giving her the chance to look over the photos in the sunlight.
— Hm. They’re pretty good, actually.
She pops the card, slips it into an adaptor and connects it to her port; entering focus mode, she uploads the photos to her corner of the office server, and send copies to Unis.
Then she goes to find the estate agent, to get shot of the key.