Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
SUMMER
Questions flooded my mind. I wanted to badger Evers with them, to find out everything he knew about my father. At the same time, I didn't want to talk to him, which made questioning difficult.
I followed him to his car in silence, clutching my phone in my hand, and decided to take the easy way out. We'd have a long drive to my dad's place.
Mumbling under my breath, "I have to make a few calls," I pulled out my phone and hit the number of the florist. We were reviewing the list of flower arrangements when Evers left I-85 for the road to Augusta.
Where was he going? We'd need to stay on I-85 to get to North Carolina and the small mountain town where my Dad had been living for the past few years. I ended the call with the florist, made a few quick notes on my phone, and set it in my lap.
"Where are we going? This isn't the way to my dad's."
"Not your dad's place in Asheville. Your dad's place in Atlanta."
"My dad doesn't have a place in Atlanta," I said, confused.
My dad didn't have enough money to have a second home. The look Evers gave me was gentle, with just a touch of pity.
"He bought it a few years ago."
"But why—" I cut myself off and fell silent. So many why's.
Why would my father get involved in criminal activities with Evers' dad?
Why would my father have a second home and not tell me about it?
Why would my father do half of the shit he did?
I'd never had an answer for the last question, and I don't know why I thought I'd find one for the first two. My father had always lived in his own orbit, his own needs his main concern.
"So, where is this place of my dad's? And how did you know it's been broken into if no one's called the police?"
"It's a little bit outside Stone Mountain, and we had it wired. Just in case. Your dad hasn't been back in a while."
Evers' comment tugged my memory. Something about my dad I couldn't remember. Something about him being out of town. I shook my head. It would come to me eventually. Between juggling the details for this party and dealing with Evers, my nerves were fried. My brain wasn't much better.
If we could just get through the party on Friday, I could relax. A little. There was still my missing dad, Evers, and Clint Perry to worry about. Relaxation seemed very far away.
Evers must have known where he was going. He navigated through the suburban streets and country roads easily, finally pulling to a stop in front of a brick ranch house that looked like it hadn't been touched since the fifties.
Weeds grew high in the yard. The bushes beside the front door were overgrown. A crack in one of the front windows spread like a spider web. The curtains were pulled, blocking the view inside.
I followed Evers to the front door. I barely had time to wonder how we were getting in when he pulled out a key and unlocked the door.
"How do you have a key to my dad's house?"
Evers didn't answer, just slanted me a look. "The place is empty. We already checked for evidence, lifted a few prints, but we don't have much. The two who broke in wore masks and gloves. Almost nothing to go on."
"Then why am I here?" I asked, looking around the disaster of my dad's small house with dismay and more than a little embarrassment.
"Take a look around, and see if anything is out of place or doesn't belong. If there's something missing that should be here."
A hysterical giggle erupted from my chest.
See if anything was out of place? Everything was out of place.
Couch cushions tumbled on the floor. Drawers upended, their contents scattered all over. Beneath the mess of the break-in, it was clear that my father hadn't cleaned his house… ever.
A glass bong sat on the coffee table, lighter beside it, the bowl still half-packed with pot. A half-empty baggie was carelessly covered with a magazine. Whoever had broken into the place, they weren't interested in drugs.
"Evers, I wouldn't know where to start. I've never been here before."
"It looks like he left in a hurry." Evers poked his head in the bedroom, took a quick pass at the bathroom and commented, "All his stuff is still here."
I followed him into the bedroom and saw what Evers meant. A stick of deodorant, toothbrush, and toothpaste sat on the bathroom counter. A used towel hung on the rack. His shoes sat by the side of the bed as if he'd toed them off before laying down.
It looked as if he'd gotten up and walked out the door fully intending to come back. Instead, he'd disappeared. Had something spooked him? Had he left alone?
I couldn't begin to guess. I opened a drawer in his dresser to find a pile of unmatched, yellowed socks mixed with worn boxers. He hadn't bothered to hide the small baggie of pills or the folded wad of cash. I didn't touch either, just let out a long sigh and said, "Evers?"
Evers came up behind me, studying the contents of the drawer. My cheeks flushed with shame. This was my dad. Drugs, cash, and secrets, barely hidden in a careless mess.
"He wouldn't have left that behind," Evers commented.
"Probably not," I agreed. Not the cash or the drugs. Definitely not both.
I stood in front of his dresser, staring at the pile of loose change on top, thinking. Something wasn't right. I picked up a key ring I didn't recognize. A sinking feeling hit my stomach when I saw what was beneath.
"Dad's ring," I whispered. Evers picked up the gold ring and turned it in his fingers.
"I've seen this ring before."
"What do you mean you've seen this ring before? It's my dad's ring. He's worn it for as long as I can remember. He never goes anywhere without it."
"It's not your father's ring," Evers said quietly. "It's your grandfather's."
"My grandfather's? How do you know that?"
Evers held out the ring, turning the monogram in the light so I could see it clearly.
MWC
"Marshall Carlisle Winters. Clive's father. Your grandfather. Marshall Winters was Daniel and Amelia Winters' brother. The black sheep of the family. He left home when he was young and never went back."
I stared at Evers in disbelief. I didn't know who Daniel and Amelia Winters were. I knew I was related to the Winters family of Atlanta in some way, even knew the names of the current generation. More than that? I was in the dark. My blank stare must have told Evers that I was lost.
"You really don't know? You don't know any of this?"
"No. I never knew my grandfather. My dad never talked about him. He never talked about any family. Always said we were on our own."
Evers turned the ring over, studying it.
"Your grandfather, Marshall Winters, was the oldest child in his generation.
The story is he went to Korea in nineteen fifty with the Army, came home with a Korean bride, and his father went nuts.
Kicked him out. From what I get, Marshall, Daniel, and Amelia's parents were old-school.
Intolerant and inflexible. Marsh took off with the wife and disappeared.
"Amelia and Daniel looked but couldn't find them.
He showed back up in nineteen sixty-three with no wife.
Stayed less than a month—he was drinking, there were drugs, a big family fight, and Marsh disappeared again.
We traced him to San Francisco. He became kind of a counterculture hippie hero for a while.
Married another hippie, and they had your dad in sixty-five as far as we can tell. "
"I knew he lived in San Francisco when he was young. He said his father died when he was a teenager. I don't know what happened to his mother," I said absently, my mind reeling.
"Your dad never made any attempt to contact Hugh and James. Or Amelia. You moved all the way to Marietta, right in their backyard, but you didn't contact them either. We waited. Assumed you would, but you stayed away. Why?"
"My father made me promise not to," I said quietly, trying to make sense of what Evers was telling me. Did that make the youngest generation of Winters my second cousins? I'd have to look it up. Either way, we were related far more closely than I'd guessed.
"What do you mean your father made you promise not to?" Evers asked, sliding the ring into his pocket. I thought to object. If anything, the ring was mine, not his. But more than ever, I wanted to find my dad, and Evers was my best bet.
"I don't know. When he found out I moved here he was furious, told me not to get any ideas, that they weren't our family, that if I tried to talk to them, they'd just throw me out.
He made me promise, made me swear I'd stay away.
He got so worked up over it I agreed. Honestly, I didn't realize quite who they were until I got here.
I mean, I'd heard of them—everyone's heard of them—but in Atlanta, the Winters are like royalty.
"My idea about touching base, giving them a call, seemed stupid. They must have family coming out of the woodwork looking for a handout. I didn't want them to think I was looking for something. I figured my father was probably right, and I'd made a promise, so I stayed away."
"They could have helped your career," Evers commented.
My spine went poker-straight. "I've done fine without them."
"You have. More than fine," Evers said, and a swell of pride filled me. "But I don't get why your father made you swear not to see them. It doesn't make sense."
"I always figured he held a grudge. Or something happened he didn't want to tell me about. Maybe he tried to see them, and they threw him out?"
"Not as far as I know. James and Hugh are gone, but my Dad didn't have any notes in the file about Clive making contact."
"How long have you been watching us?" I asked, thrown by the idea that Evers' father had a file that went back to a time when James and Hugh still lived.
"My father is paranoid," Evers said in answer. I took that to mean that I didn't want to know. A startled laugh escaped me. "What?" he asked, looking at me with a raised brow, a shade of worry in his eyes.
"Just thinking how thick my dad's file must be. All the trouble he gets into. His friends."