A son asked his mother to dig up his grave a year after his funeral. Everyone’s hair stood on end when she found…

Maybe it’s someone else’s. Mark leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. If David left this for us, he must have known we’d figure it out.

He wouldn’t just leave us with a dead end. There has to be a way to trace this key. Emily’s eyes lit up.

What about his things? After he died, I packed up his apartment. Maybe there’s something there, a clue, a note, anything that could tell us what this key is for. Mark nodded.

It’s worth a shot. Do you still have his stuff? Yes, Emily said, standing up. It’s all in the basement.

I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Together they went down to the basement, where boxes of David’s belongings were stacked against the wall. Emily opened the first box, her hands trembling as she sifted through his clothes, books, and personal items.

It felt like an invasion of his privacy, but she pushed the guilt aside. She had to know the truth. After what felt like hours, Mark called out from across the room.

Emily, look at this. She hurried over to where he was standing, holding a small leather-bound journal. It was worn and faded, with David’s initials embossed on the cover.

Emily’s heart skipped a beat. I forgot he kept a journal, she said, taking it from him. He used to write in it all the time, but he never let anyone read it.

She opened the journal, flipping through the pages. Most of the entries were mundane, thoughts, observations, snippets of his daily life. But as she reached the last few pages, her breath caught in her throat.

The entries changed. The handwriting became messier, more frantic. The tone shifted from casual to desperate.

And then she saw it. A single sentence that made her blood run cold. If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone, but I’m not dead.

I had to disappear. They’re after me. Mom, if you find this, use the key.

It’s the only way to stop them. Emily’s hands shook as she read the words aloud. Mark’s face turned pale.

Who’s after him? he asked, his voice tense. What did he get himself into? Emily flipped to the next page, but it was blank. The journal ended there, leaving them with more questions than answers…