PART 10 – I Gave Them Two Days in My Heated Bunkhouse, but Tiffany Was Already Looking for Something Inside My Main House

The guest bunkhouse stood a short distance from the main lodge.

It wasn't large.

But it was warm, clean, and properly furnished.

There were beds, a small bathroom, and enough space for two people to stay comfortably.

I had built it for visiting workers and occasional guests.

Garrett stepped inside.

He looked around.

His expression suggested he had expected something better.

"Is this where we're supposed to stay?"

"For now."

Tiffany walked toward the small window.

She looked outside.

"How long did you say?"

"Forty-eight hours."

Garrett shook his head.

"You can't be serious."

I pointed toward the heating controls.

"The heater works. There's fresh bedding in the closet."

He didn't respond.

I placed the pie on the small table.

Then I turned toward the door.

"Make yourselves comfortable."

Garrett followed me outside.

"Dad, we need to talk about the longer term."

"We can talk tomorrow."

"We can't just leave everything unsettled."

I looked at him.

"You arrived without telling me. I'm giving you two days. That's more than I was given when I needed a place."

He looked confused.

Perhaps he hadn't expected me to remember.

Perhaps he had forgotten.

I walked back toward the main lodge.

I didn't look behind me.

That evening, I prepared a simple meal.

I ate alone.

The bunkhouse windows were illuminated in the distance.

I could see Garrett moving around inside.

Tiffany appeared briefly near the window.

Then the lights went off.

I washed my dishes.

I checked the locks.

I made sure the workshop door was secure.

My workshop was one of the places I valued most.

It held years of tools, equipment, and personal records.

I had installed a security camera there after several projects required expensive equipment to remain on the property.

The camera covered the workshop entrance and the nearby exterior area.

I had never imagined that I might one day need its recordings because of my own family.

The following morning, I woke early.

I made coffee.

I checked the weather.

Then I went through the main hallway toward the east wing.

That section of the house had remained locked for a long time.

It contained private rooms and personal belongings I didn't want visitors entering without permission.

I kept the keys in a drawer.

I had never made a habit of explaining every private part of my home.

That morning, I heard a faint scraping sound.

I stopped.

It came from the east-wing doors.

I moved closer.

Tiffany was standing there.

She had something in her hand.

A metal nail file.

She was pressing it near the lock.

For a moment, I simply watched.

Then I spoke.

"What are you doing?"

She turned quickly.

Her hand dropped.

"Oh. I was just looking."

I looked at the nail file.

"Looking for what?"

She slipped it into her handbag.

"These doors are locked."

"I know."

She stared at me.

"What's in there?"

"Private things."

Her expression changed.

"Why would you keep an entire section of the house locked?"

"Because it's mine."

She gave an unhappy laugh.

"That's a strange way to treat family."

I looked at her.

"You're a guest here."

She didn't seem to appreciate that answer.

She turned and walked away.

I remained beside the door.

The lock had a small mark near the edge.

Nothing serious.

But enough to show that someone had been trying to work on it.

I ran my fingers over the damaged spot.

Then I went back to the kitchen.

I didn't confront her again.

There was no point.

A few minutes later, I looked through the thick glass window toward the bunkhouse.

Garrett was standing outside.

Tiffany joined him.

They began talking.

I couldn't hear their words.

Garrett moved closer and leaned toward her ear.

She listened.

Then something changed in her face.

She smiled.

It wasn't a friendly smile.

It was the same expression I had seen when she and Garrett discussed whether I would return to their basement.

I stepped away from the window.

I had been wrong to assume that the forty-eight-hour arrangement would be simple.

They were already testing the limits.

And Tiffany had become interested in something behind a locked door.

Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Camera in My Workshop Captured a Conversation They Never Expected Me to Hear, and Suddenly Their Visit Made Sense