I have enough reasons to suspect that these boxes belong to you, and you are hiding them in the gravesite to evade police pursuit.
Mr. Tom Stone, have you ever been to prison?
The place will introduce you to a new world."
The night breeze was cool, yet Tom Stone's forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat, "What can I say to make you believe that the things in these boxes have nothing to do with me."
"Voluntarily open the boxes.
Since the contents of the boxes have nothing to do with you.
Your father is already dead.
What are you worried about?"
"You're right, it has nothing to do with me, my father is already dead..." Tom Stone muttered to himself, as if convincing himself, then he walked to one of the boxes, took out a crowbar from the car, and forcefully pried open the box.
