PART 22: PAULA’S FINGERPRINTS
The room went silent.
No one looked at the file.
No one looked at Harold’s letter.
Every eye turned to Paula.
She stared back at us, completely bewildered.
“My fingerprints?”
The sheriff’s voice came through the speaker.
“We ran them twice.”
“There wasn’t a mistake.”
Linda spoke calmly.
“When were they left?”
“Our lab estimates within the last week.”
Paula shook her head so hard that tears flew from her eyes.
“I’ve never seen that file.”
“I didn’t even know it existed.”
The sheriff answered carefully.
“I’m only telling you what the evidence says.”
Linda ended the call.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Dale broke the silence.
“I believe her.”
Paula looked at him.
“You do?”
He nodded.
“Because if you’d found that file…”
“…you would have shown me.”
Linda slowly folded her arms.
“Not necessarily.”
Everyone looked at her.
“There are three possibilities.”
She held up one finger.
“Paula handled the file.”
She raised a second.
“Someone transferred her fingerprints.”
Then a third.
“Or…”
“…the file wasn’t where Harold originally left it.”
Janice looked up sharply.
“What are you thinking?”
Linda walked to the window.
“I’m thinking about chain of custody.”
She turned back toward us.
“We’ve spent hours assuming Harold hid one file.”
“What if he hid two?”
Father Donnelly smiled faintly.
“Now you’re beginning to think like Harold.”
Linda frowned.
“You knew?”
The old priest nodded.
“He never trusted a single hiding place.”
“He always said…”
“If one secret is found…”
“…the second one has already done its job.”
A knock interrupted him.
The nurse stepped inside.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a gentleman downstairs asking for you.”
“I didn’t give him your room number.”
“He said…”
She hesitated.
“…he knew your husband.”
My heart skipped.
“Did he give his name?”
She glanced at the note in her hand.
“He said to tell you…”
“…’I’m the boy who delivered Harold’s mail.’”
Father Donnelly’s eyes flew open.
“No…”
He whispered the word as though he’d seen a ghost.
Linda immediately noticed.
“You know him?”
The old priest slowly nodded.
“If it’s the same boy…”
“…he isn’t a boy anymore.”
“What was his name?” I asked.
Father Donnelly swallowed.
“Thomas.”
“Thomas Grady.”
Janice’s face turned pale.
“I thought he was dead.”
“So did I,” Father Donnelly replied.
The nurse looked confused.
“Should I send him away?”
Before anyone could answer…
A deep voice echoed from the hallway.
“I’d rather come in.”
We all turned.
A tall man in his sixties stood in the doorway.
His gray coat was soaked from the rain.
He removed his cap slowly.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Mrs. Ellis…”
“I’ve carried something for your husband for twenty-eight years.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat.
Not for a weapon.
Not for a document.
For a small cassette tape.
The label was faded.
But Harold’s handwriting was unmistakable.
It read:
IF YOU CAN HEAR MY VOICE… RICHARD HAS ALREADY LOST.
