“Ms. Carter,” he whispered, “your mother paid me to bury an empty coffin.”
For a second, I thought grief had twisted his words inside my head.
“What?” I whispered.
Earl did not smile.
He slipped something cold into my hand.
A small brass key.
The tag read: Unit 16.
“Don’t go home,” he said quietly. “Go to Safelock Storage. Unit 16. Right now.”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
I pulled it from my coat pocket.
A text message glowed on the screen.
From my mother.
Come home alone.
My mother had been dead for six days.
I had identified her body myself. I had signed the papers. I had arranged the obituary. I had stood beside her coffin that morning while people told me she was in a better place.
But now her name was glowing on my phone like she had simply stepped out for groceries.
When I looked up, Earl had already returned to the grave.
No one else seemed to notice anything.
I put the key in my purse and walked to my car.
Twenty minutes later, I reached Safelock Storage near the highway. Unit 16 sat in a row of identical metal doors behind a chain-link fence.
My hands shook so badly I dropped the key twice.
When I finally lifted the door, I froze.
Inside was no furniture. No boxes. No old decorations.
