I didn\u2019t take the envelope. I told Conrad Hale to leave my property, and I watched his taillights disappear down the gravel road before I let myself breathe. I didn\u2019t sleep again that night. I sat on the cot with the pry bar across my knees, listening to the rain and thinking about the only person who could have told him.<\/p>\n
Walter Prescott arrived at seven the next morning, a full day early, carrying a cardboard box of yellowed survey files. He wouldn\u2019t meet my eyes. Before I could accuse him, he admitted it himself. He had called Conrad. Then he opened the box and laid out a 1968 drawing showing a concrete room hidden behind the shed. Finally he pointed at the scratches and said quietly, \u201cThe person who made those marks is still alive. And she\u2019s been waiting fifty-eight years for someone to find this door.\u201d<\/p>\n
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