Chapter 2: The Letter
The cemetery was quiet when Finnley arrived.
It was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to set behind the row of cypress trees. The air smelled like damp earth and pine. Finnley walked slowly between the headstones, reading names he didn’t recognize until he reached the section where his mother had been buried twelve years earlier.
He stopped in front of her grave.
Elena Dennis
Beloved wife and mother
There was no headstone next to hers.
Finnley stared at the empty space for a long time. His chest felt tight.
An elderly man in a faded green uniform was raking leaves a few rows away. When he noticed Finnley standing there, he set the rake down and walked over.
“You looking for someone, son?” the old man asked gently.
“Camden Dennis,” Finnley said. “His wife told me he’s buried here.”
The groundskeeper studied him for a moment, then his eyes widened slightly in recognition.
“You’re Finnley… aren’t you?”
A chill ran down Finnley’s spine.
“How do you know my name?”
The old man glanced toward the cemetery entrance, as if making sure no one was watching. Then he lowered his voice.
“Because your father asked me to give you something… if you ever came looking for him.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a yellowed envelope. It looked old, slightly crumpled at the edges. Written across the front in his father’s familiar handwriting were two words:
For Finnley
Finnley’s hands shook as he took it.
Inside the envelope was a single folded letter and a small, old-fashioned key. Attached to the key with a piece of string was a faded tag that read:
STORAGE UNIT 108
Finnley unfolded the letter with trembling fingers.
The very first line made his stomach drop.
Son, if you’re reading this, Reagan has already started lying to you.
Finnley had to read the sentence twice before the words fully sank in.
He continued reading.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you got out. I tried to hold on as long as I could. But I knew Reagan and Carter were getting impatient. They’ve been stealing from the company for years. I have proof — but I couldn’t risk putting it in the house. So I hid everything where they would never think to look.
If Reagan told you I died of cancer, she lied. I was sick, but not that sick. I was getting better. Then one night I started feeling worse very quickly. I never got the chance to change my will. That’s why I left this for you.
Go to Storage Unit 108 at Westlake Storage on 47th Street. The key is inside this envelope. Everything you need is there — the truth about what happened to the company money, the real will I had drafted, and enough to start over.
Be careful, son. Reagan is more dangerous than she looks. And Carter… he’s desperate.
Whatever you do, don’t go back to that house until you know what you’re dealing with.
I love you, Finnley. I never stopped believing you were innocent.
— Dad
Finnley read the letter three times.
His hands were shaking so badly that the paper crinkled in his grip.
He looked up at the groundskeeper.
“My father… he’s not buried here, is he?”
The old man shook his head slowly.
“No, son. He’s not.”
Finnley felt like the ground had opened up beneath him.
“Then where is he?”
The groundskeeper hesitated.
“I don’t know. Your stepmother had him cremated two days after he passed. She said it was what he wanted. But your father… he told me once that he wanted to be buried right here, next to your mother. He never changed his mind about that.”
Finnley looked down at the key in his hand.
Storage Unit 108.
Whatever was inside that unit was the only thing his father had left him.
And it was the only chance he had of proving that everything Reagan had said was a lie.
He folded the letter carefully and put it back into the envelope along with the key.
Then he looked at the groundskeeper.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
May you like
The old man nodded.
“Be careful, Finnley. Some people don’t like it when the dead start talking.”
