Chapter 3
The hopeful feeling lasted through the night and into the early hours of the next morning. An early riser all her life, Bonnie was up with the sun and ready to face the day for the first time since Peter passed. She found herself humming as she showered and brewed her morning coffee. There was still an ache under her ribs when she spied Peter’s favorite mug, and when she went upstairs to get dressed and didn’t find him standing at the vanity, shaving.
She could continue living with the ache, though. She’d miss Peter for the rest of her life, but she couldn’t sit around their empty house wallowing for another second. Way in the back of their closet, she dug out an old pantsuit. It was navy and well-tailored, and to her immense delight, it still fit. She couldn’t remember why she’d bought it, but it was still wrapped in the dry-cleaning plastic, keeping it perfectly preserved.
Slipping on the suit felt like stepping into the next chapter of her life. She squared her shoulders and took in her reflection in the mirror with a glimmer of pride. Blond hair—still fresh from the salon highlights two weeks ago—slicked back into a low bun, pale-green eyes lined with jet-black lashes, glossy pink lips, and natural blush gave her a sense of confidence she hadn’t had in the last week. But what tied the ensemble together was the pair of tear-drop sapphire studs gifted to her by Peter on her fiftieth birthday.
All it took to transform Bonnie from a grieving housewife to a capable, modern woman was the right outfit and attitude. The knowledge to support the attitude would come later. Everyone had to start somewhere.
And this was Bonnie’s new beginning.
She drove downtown to the sleek high-rise building where Pete rented office space. Even at half past eight in the morning, the lot was crowded with expensive cars. Bonnie parked and gave her hair a final pat to make sure it was in place, then grabbed her visitor pass and walked up to the front door.
Every once in a while, she used to meet Peter at his office for lunch. He’d given her a special keycard to let her into the building without needing to be an employee. She’d always felt so fancy using it, and today was no exception. Bonnie waltzed through the lobby to the waist-high glass barricades between the security desk and the elevators. She tapped the card against the sensor, chin held high—and promptly stopped.
The glass partitions didn’t swish open the way they usually did. The light on the brass divider that normally flashed green and dinged pleasantly blared red instead, with a sharp beep that reminded Bonnie of a game show’s buzzer when a wrong answer was given. Her face immediately flushed with heat, but she didn’t let the momentary issue knock her confidence too low. Figuring she’d scanned the card too quickly, she tried again. The results were the same.
On her third try, a security guard stepped out from behind the desk. The silver nameplate pinned to his chest pocket read P. Simmons, but Bonnie didn’t recognize him. Then again, she hadn’t visited Peter in quite some time, so she assumed he must’ve been new.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” Not only were his height and size intimidating, his voice was deep and gritty, like he regularly enjoyed a bowl of river rocks for breakfast. “We have a sign-in log for visitors. I can confirm your appointment and buzz you in manually. Where is it you’re trying to go?”
Bonnie plastered a broad smile on her glossy lips, hoping to convey competence and belonging, and held up her keycard. She didn’t want to get into the reasons for her visit with this man; that would only cause unnecessary delay and upset them both. He’d feel compelled to offer condolences, and she’d have to relive it all again as she explained why her husband was there one day and gone the next.
So she kept it as brief as she could. “I’m here for Wilkins Solutions, Inc. I don’t need an appointment; my husband owns the business.”
Simmons cocked his head to the side and frowned. His dark, bushy brows furrowed as he reached for the card in her hand. “Can I see that, ma’am?”
Reluctantly, Bonnie handed it over. “Maybe it’s just demagnetized. If you could fix it, I’ll be on my way upstairs. The office is on the sixth floor.”
The creases along his forehead deepened, his dark eyes narrowing. “There’s no Wilkins Solutions on the sixth floor. Are you sure you’ve got the business name right? I don’t believe we have a Wilkins Solutions here at all.”
Bonnie held back a scoff. This man is definitely new, maybe even his first day, she thought to herself.
Assuming that was the case, she realized she shouldn’t take out her frustration on him. After all, he was just trying to do his job. The keycard not working was a small hiccup, not a major disaster. It was nothing she couldn’t figure out and get sorted.
“It’s been here for more than fifteen years.” She cooled her voice to the calm, motherly tone she’d used when dealing with school administrators when her children were younger. “I can give you the exact date they moved in if you give me a moment to think about it. But I assure you, the business is here and on the sixth floor.”
Simmons continued to scrutinize the card, turning it over as though the back of it might provide him with some answers. Bonnie held her tongue; he was doing his job, and she could be patient. The whole day still stretched ahead of them.
“One moment, ma’am.” He offered a tight-lipped grin and held up one of his large hands like a crossing guard. “Wait here—I’ve got to make a call.”
She stayed by the barricades while he took her keycard back behind the desk. He was far enough away to prevent her from overhearing his side of the conversation, but the whole time he spoke into the handset, he avoided eye contact. His expression was strange, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.
Maybe news of Peter’s death had already reached the office. It wouldn’t be that unexpected, since the obituary had been out for several days now. But even so, the guard could have said something instead of being so rigid and elusive.
Wilkins Solutions existed, and it was in this building.
Bonnie was sure of it.
Fifteen years ago, Peter had closed a few large deals and decided to upgrade his office space. She remembered vividly how excited he was to move his operation closer to the house and into a building with such nice amenities. The previous location didn’t have security at all.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity—but was probably closer to ten minutes—a well-dressed man stepped off the elevators and approached Bonnie. She didn’t recognize him any more than she recognized the security guard, but it was clear he belonged with the building. His suit was expensive, and his salt-and-pepper hair was styled and gelled into an immovable swoop across his forehead. Peter always dealt with men like this, and her mood lifted.
Surely, this man would know what the issue was. He would let her up the elevator and into the offices, and she could iron out all the details she needed. After so many days of paralyzing grief, she needed to move forward again, and this man was her ticket to that motion.
“Mrs. Wilkins?” His brow raised as he inclined his head toward her.
“Yes, that’s me. Call me Bonnie.”
He shook her hand briefly, a tight smile on his thin, dry lips. “Hi, Bonnie. My name is Joseph Crowder. I’m an attorney for the building’s management company. I understand you’re here on behalf of Wilkins Solutions?”
Panic rose in Bonnie’s throat, burning her esophagus like she’d swallowed battery acid. There was a fairly large difference between walking into her husband’s office to ask how it operated and acting on behalf of the company without any guidance.
She wiped her clammy hands down the front of her pantsuit and took a deep breath. “I’m here to get the lay of the land. Unfortunately, my husband passed away last week. I’m afraid I wasn’t terribly involved in his business dealings, so I’ve come here to start from the beginning, so to speak.”
Joseph Crowder’s brows knitted tightly in what appeared to be concern, not sympathy, causing all of his features to pinch. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Wilkins. I suppose you ought to come with me.”
He didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about taking her into the building, but Bonnie didn’t care. Someone needed to tell her what was going on, sooner rather than later. The longer it took to find answers, the more nervous she was about what awaited her. If Peter’s business associates didn’t think she could handle herself, they were about to get one hefty surprise.
Once Bonnie Wilkins made up her mind, heaven help whoever stood in her way.
Without another word, he led her to the elevators. Relief washed over her…until he hit the button for the third floor.
She couldn’t hold back her scoff this time. “Mr. Crowder, the offices are on the sixth floor.”
“Indeed, they were. But I’m not taking you to the offices. If you don’t mind, I need you to take a look at some things in a storage room on the third floor.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what was so pressing about the items in storage, but she held her questions. Joseph Crowder seemed like a stubborn man, so it was probably best to let him take her on whatever wild-goose chase this was. She was in the building now, so she could deal with everything else as it happened.
At least, she hoped she could.
On the third floor, he unlocked one of a dozen steel doors and opened it wide. She stepped into the space, immediately concerned with the flickering fluorescent lights and abundance of cobwebs. If there were any important files in here, she prayed they were backed up somewhere because the likelihood of pests seemed high.
Most of the room was full of office furniture stacked haphazardly. There were rolling chairs and wide wooden desks, as well as a jumble of computer parts. Filing cabinets lined one wall, and there were a few piles of banker boxes leaning against the drawers. Then Bonnie spotted Peter’s plush leather chair he’d had behind his desk in his corner office upstairs. She couldn’t fathom why on Earth his desk chair would be down here in storage.
“What is this?” She eyed the impeccably dressed man while holding out her hand, gesturing to the unkept mess behind her.
Joseph smoothed his silk tie and shifted his weight on his feet, appearing slightly uncomfortable. He narrowed his gaze and studied her face a moment, then sighed. “I’m so sorry to be the one to break this news to you, especially given your husband’s recent passing. I suppose I’d hoped he would’ve filled you in on what’s going on with—”
“Well, clearly, he hasn’t. Are you going to, or will I have to guess?” She must’ve left her patience in the lobby because it was nowhere to be seen.
“Mrs. Wilkins, I’m afraid your husband’s business no longer operates on these premises.” He paused to let her take in the news, noticing the shock in her wide eyes and slack jaw. “Mr. Wilkins was behind on his rent by six months. We tried to work with him on a payment plan or some means of making the debt whole, but it seems we’ve run out of negotiating time.”
Bonnie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words formed, only the slight wheezing sound of her trying to catch her breath.
“Considering the circumstances, we’re willing to offer you thirty days to bring the lease agreement back up to good standing. But, unfortunately, if the debt isn’t paid off by then, we are allowed—by law—to begin selling off the company’s assets and retain the profits to satisfy the arrears.”
Bonnie’s head spun. This didn’t make a lick of sense. There was no way Peter would’ve been one day late on paying rent, let alone six months. It just simply wasn’t possible.
She took a step back and dropped her gaze to the cheap carpet, racking her brain as to what could have happened. As far as she was aware, there hadn’t been anything unusual in their lives for as far back as she could remember. In fact, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred for years…well, until Peter’s accident. She couldn’t wrap her head around him being so far behind on rent without showing some sign of distress.
More pressing, however, was the reality that Wilkins Solutions clearly wasn’t operating out of the sixth floor—so where were they? She was lost as to where Peter had been going every day for the last six months if not here.
“I don’t understand.” Feeling as though her knees were about to give out, she leaned against the nearest filing cabinet for support. “Wilkins Solutions had over thirty employees. They have families. What are they doing? What’s been going on? Wilkins Solutions owned other companies. There were—” She shook her head and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crowder, but I’m having a difficult time absorbing this.”
“Mrs. Wilkins, I am going to have to ask you not to touch the files, please.” Joseph stepped forward and held out his hand, ignoring the way Bonnie was floundering.
She pulled her hand away, startled. “Why’s that? I need to look through them. I need to understand what’s going on here. There’s got to be an answer in these files, or maybe on the computers. If I could take a look—”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid you can’t. All of this property is off-limits until the landlord receives payment. Once we receive that, we’ll release the assets to you as Mr. Wilkins’ next of kin. But until then, this is property of the building.”
“Then why bring me here? You told me you needed me to take a look at some things in here. Why do that if you won’t let me actually take a look at anything?” First came impatience, then shock. Now, it seemed, her frustration was center stage.
“Because, ma’am, you don’t come across as the type of person who would’ve believed me without seeing it for yourself. I wanted you to see it, not go through anything.”
Flustered, Bonnie glanced around the room, gathering her composure. It seemed so unfair that the building could do this—store all of her husband’s belongings and not let her touch anything. But she was certain she could pay off the arrears and get it all straightened out.
Peter made plenty of money.
She could figure out how to pay.
“How much does my husband owe you?” she asked with a level of confidence she hadn’t displayed since her first attempt at using the keycard.
Joseph cleared his throat and pulled a business card and a pen out of his pocket. He scribbled something on the back and then passed it over. “My contact information is on the front. Let me know how you intend to proceed.”
Bonnie flipped the card over to look at the figure he’d written on the back, and her stomach plummeted. It was nearly twice what she’d imagined it could be. But it didn’t matter—Peter had separate accounts for his business. She just had to figure out how to access them. Then she could pull together the money and get to the bottom of this.
“I’ll be in touch shortly.” She slipped the business card into her purse and squared her shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, it appears I need to go to the bank.”