**Part 1**
The funeral director saw me standing apart from the others at the edge of my mother's grave.
At first, I thought he would come over to offer his condolences.
Earl had known my mother for many years. Ten years ago, she had arranged and paid for her own funeral at Meadow Rest in advance, meticulously planning every detail because she didn't like to leave important things to chance.
He remained silent while the pastor continued speaking.
Then he leaned closer to me.
"Miss Carter," he whispered, "your mother paid me to bury an empty coffin."
For a moment, it seemed to me that the pain had distorted his words in my head.
"What?" I whispered.
Earl didn't smile.
He put something cold in the palm of my hand.
A small brass key.
The label read: **Section 16**.
"Don't go home," he said quietly. "Go to the Safelock warehouse. Section 16. Right now."
Before I could answer, the phone vibrated.
I took it out of my coat pocket.
A message briefly appeared on the screen.
**From my mother.**
**You are at home alone.**
My mother had been dead for six days.
I personally identified his body. I signed all the papers. I ordered the obituary. This morning I stood by his coffin while people told me he was in a better place now.
But now her name was flashing on her phone screen as if she had just stepped out to the store for a quick visit.
When I looked up, Earl had already returned to his grave.
It seemed that no one else had noticed anything.
I put the key in my bag and headed to the car.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the Safelock warehouse by the freeway. Section 16 was located in a row of identical metal doors behind a wire fence.
My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the keys twice.
When I finally lifted the door, I froze.
Inside there was no furniture, no boxes, no old objects.
Just a folding chair, a flashlight, three cans of water, a box with legal documents, and my mother's dark blue purse.
The same bag that, according to the police, was found with her.
There was an envelope attached to the bag.
My name was written in his handwriting.
**To Emily. If you're reading this, you were lied to first.**
And then, behind me, I heard the crunching of tires on the gravel.
