The old man didn’t answer.
Instead, his eyes dropped toward the key.
STORAGE UNIT 108.
Finnley looked at it again.
Suddenly the key mattered more than the house, Reagan’s threats, and Carter’s smug expression.
Whatever Camden had wanted his son to discover, he had placed it somewhere Reagan couldn’t remodel, erase, or simply lock Finnley out of.
Finnley folded the letter and slipped it inside his jacket.
Then he looked toward the cemetery gate.
Three years ago, he had been convicted because people accepted a story about him without looking closely enough at the evidence.
Now his father had left him a key and a warning.
That could not be a coincidence.
Finnley didn’t know what was waiting inside Unit 108.
He didn’t know why his father had arranged for the groundskeeper to recognize him.
And he certainly didn’t know why Reagan had told him Camden was buried at Pinecrest Cemetery when he wasn’t.
But for the first time in years, Finnley had something he hadn’t had in prison.
A direction.
He left the cemetery with the envelope pressed against his chest and the old key locked inside his fist.
He did not return to the Silver Lake house.
He did not confront Reagan.
He did not tell Carter what he had found.
He went straight to Storage Unit 108.
