Chapter 3 - The Grave That Wasn’t There
Pinecrest Cemetery stood at the edge of town beneath tall cypress trees.
Camden had always said he wanted to be buried beside Finnley’s mother, Laura.
Finnley found her grave.
The space beside it remained empty.
No marker.
No disturbed earth.
No record of Camden Dennis.
An elderly groundskeeper approached with a rake over one shoulder.
“Who are you looking for?”
“Camden Dennis.”
The man studied Finnley’s face.
“You’re his son.”
Finnley’s stomach tightened.
“How do you know me?”
The groundskeeper introduced himself as Walter Boone.
Camden had visited the cemetery thirteen months earlier, walking with a cane and wearing a surgical mask. He gave Walter an envelope and instructed him to keep it hidden.
“He said a woman might come asking whether he bought a burial plot,” Walter explained. “He told me to say nothing.”
“Why?”
“He was frightened.”
Walter handed Finnley the yellowed envelope.
Inside was a letter and another brass key tagged with the number 108.
Son,
If you are reading this, Reagan has already started lying to you.
Do not confront her.
Go to the storage facility on Miller Road.
Take Walter with you.
Trust only what you can copy.
Finnley read the opening lines again.
“Where is he?”
Walter looked toward the cemetery entrance.
“I don’t know where he is now. But he wasn’t dead when your stepmother held that memorial service.”
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There had never been a burial.
Only an urn displayed at church, a closed-casket story, and a death certificate Reagan never allowed anyone to inspect closely.
