Later that day, an officer from the municipality climbed the hill to speak with him. “Mr. Briggs,” he said, holding his helmet under his arm, “we’ve finished the sweep. Your property’s clear. Nothing dangerous under your home or pond. Looks like the storage site ended just past your fence line.”
Walter nodded slowly, exhaling for what felt like the first time in days. “So it’s safe then?” he asked, keeping his voice steady. The officer gave a small smile. “Safe as it gets. Whatever’s under there’s been buried longer than either of us has been around.” Walter nodded again, his shoulders finally easing.