The cemetery was quiet beneath the cypress trees.
Finnley walked between the rows, searching for Camden Dennis.
He expected grief.
He expected anger.
He did not expect to be stopped by an elderly groundskeeper.
“Who are you looking for, son?” the man asked.
“Camden Dennis,” Finnley replied. “His wife told me he’s buried here.”
The groundskeeper’s face changed.
Not with confusion.
With recognition.
“You’re Finnley… aren’t you?”
Finnley froze.
“How do you know my name?”
The old man glanced toward the cemetery entrance.
Then he lowered his voice.
“Because your father asked me to give you something if you ever came looking for him.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Finnley watched as the groundskeeper pulled out a yellowed envelope.
His name was written across the front.
Finnley recognized his father’s handwriting immediately.
The groundskeeper handed him the envelope.
Then he placed an old metal key in Finnley’s palm.
A small tag hung from it.
Four words were stamped across the metal.
STORAGE UNIT 108.
Finnley stared at the key.
