“I wanted to tell you everything, but by the time I discovered the truth, I was already sick.”
My father’s cancer.
Suddenly, Vonetta’s words echoed in my head.
He was buried a year ago.
But the groundskeeper had just told me something impossible.
My father wasn’t buried at Elmgrove Cemetery.
I looked at the old key in my palm.
Storage Unit 108.
The letter continued:
“If Vonetta tells you I died peacefully and that she inherited everything, don’t believe her.”
My heart began pounding.
“The house was never hers.”
I stared at those words for several seconds.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
The groundskeeper was standing a few feet away.
“Josiah,” he said quietly.
I folded the letter.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He looked toward the cemetery entrance.
“I promised your father I wouldn’t say anything until you came here yourself.”
“Then tell me now.”
The old man sighed.
“Your father came here eleven months ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“Eleven months ago?”
He nodded.
“He wasn’t sick enough to be dying. He was frightened.”
“Frightened of what?”
The groundskeeper looked directly into my eyes.
“Your stepmother.”
I felt a chill run through me.
He continued.
