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.
