PART 7
The room froze.
Chief Briggs stood so quickly his chair slid backward across the hospital floor.
“What did you say?”
The detective caught his breath.
“Deputies responded to a silent alarm at Walter Davis’s lake property twenty-three minutes ago.”
Harvey frowned.
“There shouldn’t be an alarm.”
“There wasn’t,” the detective replied. “A neighboring property owner installed motion sensors after several break-ins around the lake last year. The sensor picked up movement behind the old workshop.”
Chief Briggs grabbed his jacket.
“Did they catch anyone?”
The detective slowly shook his head.
“No.”
“But whoever was there left in a hurry.”
Harvey closed his eyes.
“They found it…”
Chief Briggs looked at him.
“Found what?”
“They finally remembered the workshop.”
Wyatt stepped forward.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
Harvey answered without hesitation.
“Gregory.”
The room became silent again.
“But Gregory is already in custody,” I said.
Harvey looked at me with worried eyes.
“Gregory never worked alone.”
Chief Briggs immediately understood.
“You think someone else has been helping him.”
“I know someone has.”
Harvey pointed toward the briefcase.
“For years Walter told me something.”
“If Gregory ever comes looking…”
“…he won’t come by himself.”
Chief Briggs turned toward the detective.
“I want every visitor Gregory has received since his arrest.”
“Every phone call.”
“Every lawyer.”
“Every family member.”
“Everyone.”
“Yes, Chief.”
The detective hurried away.
Wyatt looked at Harvey.
“Who else knew about the workshop?”
Harvey hesitated.
“Only four people.”
“Walter.”
“Myself.”
“Gregory.”
“And…”
He stopped talking.
“And who?” Chief Briggs asked.
Harvey’s expression changed.
“I don’t know if he’s still alive.”
Everyone stared at him.
“There was another business partner.”
“His name was Samuel Carter.”
“I haven’t seen him in almost twenty years.”
Chief Briggs wrote the name into his notebook.
“We’ll find him.”
Before Harvey could answer, another officer entered carrying a large evidence bag.
“Chief.”
“This was recovered inside the workshop.”
He carefully placed it on the table.
Inside was an old flashlight.
A rusty hammer.
A broken lantern.
Several dusty photographs.
And one muddy boot print preserved in a plaster cast.
Chief Briggs picked up the photographs first.
They showed Walter standing proudly beside the unfinished workshop.
Another showed him smiling with Harvey.
A third showed a tiny newborn wrapped in a pink blanket.
My breath caught.
“That’s…”
Harvey smiled softly.
“That’s the only picture Walter ever took holding you.”
I couldn’t stop staring.
He looked happier than anyone had ever looked while holding me.
Chief Briggs turned over the last photograph.
Something immediately caught his attention.
“What is this?”
Harvey leaned closer.
His face suddenly lost all color.
“No…”
“What?” Wyatt asked.
Harvey pointed at the background.
Behind Walter…
Barely visible through the workshop window…
stood Gregory.
Watching.
Chief Briggs narrowed his eyes.
“He wasn’t looking at Walter.”
Harvey nodded slowly.
“He was looking inside the workshop.”
“As if…”
“…he already knew something was hidden there.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Chief Briggs carefully returned the photograph to the evidence bag.
“The forensic team searched the workshop for hidden compartments.”
“What did they find?” I asked.
The detective swallowed.
“They located one.”
Everyone leaned forward.
“It had already been forced open.”
My heart sank.
“Was anything inside?”
The detective looked frustrated.
“No.”
“It was completely empty.”
Harvey gripped his cane tightly.
“We’re too late.”
Chief Briggs wasn’t convinced.
“No.”
“If someone opened it today…”
“…they were looking for something specific.”
Wyatt nodded.
“And if they didn’t find it…”
“…they’ll come back.”
Just then Chief Briggs’ phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“Briggs.”
He listened without speaking.
His expression became more serious with every passing second.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
He slowly lowered the phone.
“What happened?” I asked.
The chief looked directly at Harvey.
“We identified the fingerprints found inside Walter’s workshop.”
Harvey’s voice barely came out.
“Gregory?”
Chief Briggs shook his head.
“No.”
“The fingerprints belong to Samuel Carter.”
Harvey’s cane slipped from his hand and struck the floor with a loud crack.
“That’s impossible…”
he whispered.
“Samuel died eighteen years ago.”
# PART 8
Harvey stared at Chief Briggs as if the world had suddenly stopped turning.
“No,” he whispered. “That’s impossible.”
“I stood beside Samuel’s grave myself.”
Chief Briggs remained calm.
“The fingerprint identification came back twice.”
“There was no mistake.”
Harvey slowly lowered himself into the chair again.
His hands were shaking so badly Wyatt had to pick up his cane from the floor.
“There has to be an explanation,” Wyatt said.
Chief Briggs nodded.
“There is.”
“The question is whether it’s a simple explanation…”
“…or one someone has spent years hiding.”
A young forensic technician stepped into the room carrying a laptop.
“Chief, I have the full report.”
He placed the computer on the bedside table and opened several photographs taken inside Walter’s workshop only an hour earlier.
The first showed the broken hidden compartment.
The second showed muddy footprints across the old wooden floor.
The third made Harvey suddenly lean forward.
“Zoom in,” he said.
The technician enlarged the image.
There, scratched into one of the old support beams, were three initials.
S.C.
Harvey covered his mouth.
“Samuel always carved his initials into every building we worked on.”
Chief Briggs folded his arms.
“So he definitely worked in that workshop.”
“Yes.”
“But why would his fingerprints appear today?”
Nobody answered.
The technician clicked to the next image.
A rusty metal shelf had collapsed against one wall.
Behind it was a narrow opening.
Chief Briggs frowned.
“Was that there before?”
Harvey immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“The wall should be solid.”
The technician enlarged another photograph.
“The opening wasn’t made recently.”
“The wood inside has decades of dust.”
Harvey stared at the screen.
Walter…
“What did you build?”
Chief Briggs looked at the technician.
“Did anyone go inside?”
“No, sir.”
“The tunnel looked unstable.”
“We secured the entrance and waited for your instructions.”
The room became completely silent.
A tunnel.
Hidden behind Walter’s workshop.
For over twenty-five years.
Wyatt finally spoke.
“Where does it lead?”
Harvey closed his eyes.
“I think…”
“I know.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“When we built the workshop…”
“Walter insisted on digging an emergency passage.”
“Emergency?”
Harvey nodded.
“He said every craftsman deserved two ways out if the building ever caught fire.”
Chief Briggs leaned closer.
“Where does it end?”
Harvey swallowed.
“If I remember correctly…”
“…near the old boathouse.”
The chief immediately reached for his phone.
“Send deputies to the boathouse.”
“Now.”
Seconds later the radio on another officer’s shoulder suddenly crackled.
“Unit Twelve to Command.”
Chief Briggs grabbed it.
“Go ahead.”
“We’ve reached the boathouse.”
“What do you see?”
There was a long pause filled with static.
Then the deputy answered.
“The back door is wide open.”
Harvey’s face turned pale.
Chief Briggs spoke firmly.
“Go inside.”
Another silence followed.
Longer this time.
Too long.
Finally the deputy spoke again.
“Chief…”
His voice sounded different now.
Uneasy.
“Someone’s been living here.”
My heart began pounding.
“What do you mean?” Briggs asked.
“We found fresh food.”
“Clean clothes.”
“A running generator.”
“And…”
The deputy stopped.
“And what?”
Chief Briggs demanded.
“We found today’s newspaper.”
Nobody in the hospital room moved.
Whoever had been hiding there…
had left only hours earlier.
The deputy spoke once more.
“Chief…”
“There’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“We found a framed photograph sitting on the table.”
“A recent photograph.”
Chief Briggs frowned.
“Who’s in it?”
The deputy’s answer made every person in the room freeze.
“Gregory Davis…”
“…standing beside Samuel Carter.”
# PART 9
Nobody spoke.
The only sound in the hospital room was the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
Chief Briggs slowly lifted the radio back to his mouth.
“Deputy…”
“I need you to repeat exactly what you just said.”
The deputy answered without hesitation.
“The photograph shows Gregory Davis standing beside Samuel Carter.”
“It looks recent.”
“Very recent.”
Harvey’s face had gone completely pale.
“That’s impossible,” he whispered.
“I buried Samuel.”
Chief Briggs looked toward the forensic technician.
“Can you estimate when the photograph was taken?”
“Not until we examine it in the lab.”
“But judging by the paper quality…”
“…I’d say no more than a few months old.”
Wyatt frowned.
“So either Samuel is alive…”
“…or someone wants us to believe he is.”
Chief Briggs nodded.
“Exactly.”
The radio crackled again.
“Chief…”
“We also found something written on the back of the picture.”
“What does it say?”
The deputy paused.
“It says…”
“‘The truth was never buried.'”
Harvey slowly closed his eyes.
“I know that handwriting.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“It belongs to Samuel.”
The room fell silent again.
Chief Briggs spoke carefully.
“Mr. Berry…”
“Tell me everything you know about Samuel Carter.”
Harvey took a slow breath.
“He was Walter’s closest business partner.”
“They trusted each other with everything.”
“He was honest.”
“Loyal.”
“The kind of man who would work sixteen hours just to keep his word.”
“So what happened?” I asked.
Harvey looked down.
“One day…”
“…he disappeared.”
“No goodbye.”
“No explanation.”
“His truck was found near the river.”
“The police searched for weeks.”
“They eventually declared him dead.”
Chief Briggs frowned.
“Was a body ever recovered?”
Harvey slowly shook his head.
“No.”
The chief immediately wrote something in his notebook.
“So legally…”
“…Samuel was presumed dead.”
“Yes.”
“But no one ever proved he actually died.”
Wyatt exchanged a glance with me.
Someone had spent nearly twenty years believing a man was dead…
without ever seeing his body.
Just then another detective hurried into the room carrying a sealed evidence bag.
“Chief.”
“We’ve finished processing the boathouse.”
Chief Briggs looked up.
“Find anything useful?”
The detective carefully placed the bag on the table.
“Several things.”
Inside were a coffee mug…
a flashlight…
a set of old keys…
and a leather-bound notebook.
Harvey suddenly leaned forward.
“My God…”
“I know that notebook.”
“You do?” Briggs asked.
Harvey nodded.
“It belonged to Samuel.”
Chief Briggs put on fresh evidence gloves before opening it.
The first pages contained measurements.
Construction sketches.
Supply lists.
Nothing unusual.
Then he reached the final pages.
His expression changed.
“What is it?” Wyatt asked.
Chief Briggs turned the notebook around so we could all see.
Across the last page…
written in dark blue ink…
were only two sentences.
**Gregory knows where it is.**
**He just doesn’t know how to open it.**
Nobody moved.
My heartbeat became louder.
Harvey stared at the words for nearly a full minute.
Then he whispered…
“He protected it.”
“What?” I asked.
“Samuel.”
“He never told Gregory.”
Chief Briggs nodded slowly.
“So whatever Walter hid…”
“…it’s still hidden.”
Before anyone could say another word…
Chief Briggs’ phone began ringing.
He answered immediately.
“Briggs.”
He listened for several seconds.
Then his expression hardened.
“What?”
Another long pause.
“Lock the entire property down.”
“No one goes in or out.”
He ended the call and looked directly at us.
“What happened?” Wyatt asked.
Chief Briggs took a deep breath.
“One of our deputies searched the tunnel beneath Walter’s workshop.”
“What did he find?” I whispered.
The chief’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“He found another locked door.”
“And carved into the wood…”
“…were six names.”
The first five belonged to witnesses from the day of the attack.
The sixth name…
was mine………………………….
Click Here to continuous Read Full Ending Story👉:(PART6)My Father Smashed a Brick Into My Face After My Fiancé Refused to Leave Me for My Sister, and My Mother Just Laughed. “Let’s See If He Still Loves You Now.” I Didn’t Scream. At the Hospital, I Asked Them to Preserve the Evidence, Never Imagining That Six Witnesses and an Old Will Would Destroy Them.
