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Letters that had never been sent. Notes written in haste. A record of events that had never been formally reported.
And somehow, in the middle of all of that, there was a connection to me.
Not directly—but indirectly, in a way that only made sense as the sheriff explained further.
The planter I had moved? It had been sitting on top of a loose stone slab in her yard for years.
Underneath that slab, hidden from view, was a sealed compartment she had completely forgotten about.
When I moved the planter, it shifted just enough to reveal the edge of that compartment.
Later that evening, while tidying up, she noticed it. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened it.
Inside, she found the box.
If I hadn’t helped her, it might have stayed hidden indefinitely.
I sat there, trying to process it all. “So… what does this have to do with me?”
The sheriff gave a small, almost amused smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Quite the opposite, actually.”
He explained that the discovery could potentially reopen the old case. It might provide closure—or at the very least, answers that had been missing for years.
“And Mrs. Daley insisted we speak with you,” he added. “She wanted it on record that your help is what led to the discovery.”
I leaned back, exhaling slowly.