“If you set one foot inside this house, I’ll call the police. And with your record, Michael, it won’t take much to send you right back to prison.”
The door slammed in my face. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry there. I walked to the local cemetery because my father had always said he wanted to rest beside my mother.
I needed to see his name carved into a headstone before I could believe he was really gone.
An elderly groundskeeper watched me from a distance. “Who are you looking for, son?”
“Ernest Sullivan. His wife said he’s buried here.” The man’s face turned pale.
“You’re Michael.” A chill ran through me. “How do you know my name?” The groundskeeper glanced toward the entrance, then lowered his voice.
“Because your father asked me to give this to you if you ever came looking for him.”
He pulled a yellow envelope and a small key from his vest. Attached to the key was a tag that read: STORAGE UNIT 108.
My hands trembled as I opened the letter. The very first line read: Son, if you’re reading this, it means Grace has already started lying to you.
And in that moment, I realized my father’s de wasn’t the end of my ordeal.
It was only the doorway to something far worse. (I know you’re all very curious about the next part, so if you want to read more, please leave a “YES” comment below!)
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