Arthur retreated to his porch, his pulse still hammering. He had locked the shed tight, but the way Jim had looked at him felt like a clock ticking. He went inside and tried to focus on a cup of coffee, but the smell of the sea seemed to have followed him, clinging to his skin and clothes. He was just reaching for the sink when a heavy, rhythmic thumping echoed through the house.
He opened the front door to find two officers standing there, their expressions unreadable. “Mr. Miller? Your neighbor reported some… suspicious activity and a concerning odor coming from your property,” the taller officer said, glancing toward the shed. Arthur felt a wave of dizzying clarity. He knew how this looked—the secrecy, the heavy bundle, the stench. Without a word, he led them to the shed, his hands trembling as he turned the key.
“It’s not what you think,” he stammered. “I found gold. Real gold ore.”