He looked at me and smiled.
“Well, look who finally came back.”
His eyes moved over my prison clothes.
“The convict returns.”
I ignored him.
But Carter laughed.
“Let me guess. You came looking for money?”
I stepped forward, but Reagan immediately moved into the doorway.
“If you come onto this property again, I’m calling the police.”
Her voice became colder.
“Remember, Finnley. You have a criminal record. Nobody is going to believe you.”
Then she slammed the door.
The sound echoed through the street.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t beg.
I didn’t give her the reaction she wanted.
Instead, I turned around and walked away.
My father had always told me where he wanted to rest.
Right beside my mother at Pinecrest Cemetery.
So that’s where I went.
I needed to see his name.
I needed proof that he was really gone.
But when I arrived, an old gardener stopped me near the trees.
“Can I help you, son?”
“I’m looking for Camden Dennis,” I said. “His wife told me he’s buried here.”
The old man stared at me.
Then his expression changed.
“You’re Finnley, aren’t you?”
My chest tightened.
“How do you know my name?”
He glanced toward the cemetery entrance before lowering his voice.
“Because your father asked me to give you something if you ever came looking for him.”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a worn yellow envelope.
Inside was a letter.
And a small key.
A tag on the key read:
STORAGE UNIT 108
I looked at him in confusion.
“Where is my father buried?”
The gardener hesitated.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“He isn’t here.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Don’t go back to that house yet,” he whispered. “If you want the truth, you need to see what your father left behind first.”
My hands shook as I opened the letter.
The first sentence destroyed everything I thought I knew.
Son, if you are reading this, it means Reagan has already started lying to you.
That was the moment I understood something terrifying:
My father’s death wasn’t the end of the story.
It was the beginning.
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