Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Tate’s insane day didn’t look to have an end in sight.
After Finn had faceplanted on the tavern’s floor, they’d offered to call an ambulance, but he’d refused. He was sick, but he didn’t need emergency care. He’d insisted that he simply needed some fluids and he’d be fine.
Then he’d tried to stand and walk out, but that hadn’t worked out well for him either. Eventually, he’d agreed to let Tate drive him home with the promise that he’d get into bed and rest. Exhausted and miserable, Finn had finally given up the fight.
He’d set Finn up with chicken soup and ginger ale, plus the television remote control. Finn’s girlfriend would come home from work in less than an hour to take over nursing duties. Tate could leave the sheriff alone with a clear conscience.
Within the hour, he was back at the bar. He’d offered to drop Cat off at her mother’s house on the way to Finn’s, but she’d said she wanted to take a walk and clear her head. She’d thanked Tate for taking such good care of her.
The day didn’t look like it was going to get any better when a few minutes later, his brother Cooper walked through the door, his expression stormy. His older brother’s usual laid-back demeanor was gone for the moment.
“We need to talk,” Cooper said without preamble. “Somewhere private.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” Tate tried to joke, but Cooper didn’t even crack a smile.
“Trust me when I say you don’t want anyone overhearing this.”
Tate didn’t argue, ushering them up to his office on the second floor. As soon as he closed the door, Cooper spoke.
“The private investigator we hired has found something of interest.”
The news hit Tate right in the solar plexus, sucking the breath from his lungs. His hand reflexively clutched the edge of his desk as he maneuvered into a chair.
“Something of interest?”
He tried to speak like this wasn’t a huge revelation, but he didn’t think he was fooling anyone, least of all Cooper.
Or himself.
He’d prayed for and yet feared a day like today for the last ten years.
“Remember those receipts Piper showed us from before Mom disappeared? Apparently, the investigator saw that someone - Mom, maybe - had written a name on the back of one of the receipts. She’d also written a few other notes, such as dates and a dollar amount.
Not sure for what. But he tracked down the name she’d jotted down.
It’s a mini-storage warehouse a few towns over.
He went there and found out that she has a storage unit. ”
A storage unit? He’d never heard his mother mention it. No one had. And why would she need one? Their property had ample storage either in the basement or one of the outbuildings.
“You mean she had a storage unit.”
He was sure the contents had long been auctioned off for pennies for non-payment. It had been ten years, after all.
“Nope,” Cooper replied with a shake of his head.
For the first time, Tate could see a smile playing on his brother’s lips.
“She has a storage unit. Present tense. This is the kicker of it all. It’s still being paid for by auto-payments from a bank account in Mom’s name only.
The investigator went to the warehouse and talked to the owner.
He remembered Mom when the PI showed him a photo.
He said she was always kind and lovely. They’d chat about the weather and their kids.
The local sports teams. That sort of thing. ”
It sounded like Lily Winslow. She’d made friends wherever she went.
“Let me get this straight. Mom had a secret bank account? That she used to pay for a storage unit? If we hadn’t hired an investigator, would this have gone on until the bank account was empty?”
“In all likelihood? Yes. Although they wouldn’t have called any of us. I’m guessing they would have called Dad. I haven’t seen the paperwork for the unit yet. We’ll have to see what she wrote down.”
“And we need to see that bank account, too.”
“That’s going to be harder,” Cooper replied.
“A contract on a storage unit isn’t a big deal.
But a bank account? That’s got federal laws surrounding it.
Technically, Dad was Mom’s beneficiary for most things.
The bank might not even talk to us. We’re going to have to get a lawyer, unless our father suddenly becomes a completely different person and lets us dig into this. This is a fight we’ll probably lose.”
There had been a detailed will when Lily Winslow had been legally declared dead.
Most of her money and belongings had gone to her children, but there were things she had left to their father.
If she hadn’t specified this bank account, it might go directly to Joel, along with the contents of the storage unit, depending on Illinois state law.
Tate wanted to get in there to see what his mother had found so important and so secret that she’d left Winslow Heights to store it.
Secrets. The Winslow Family Curse. There were too many of them, and they popped up at the most inconvenient times.
“If he has nothing to hide,” Tate said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”
“I think you may be confusing our father with someone reasonable,” Cooper replied.
“He doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him, least of all, his own kids.
He’ll probably do his usual by ignoring us and anything we might say or do.
He thinks if he pretends it’s not happening, then it will eventually all go away. ”
For Joel Winslow, the world might just work that way. Or at least it had until all six of them had decided they’d had enough bullshit from their family patriarch. Life wasn’t as easy for good old Joel these days. He was getting pushback from his own offspring.
He wasn’t happy about it, either.
“We need to get the jump on Dad then,” Tate said. “Get out there and see what’s in the storage unit. Ask for forgiveness later, rather than permission now. Does Dad know yet?”
“I don’t think so, but we can’t rely on that much longer. But let’s not forget, there are also outstanding questions about how the bank account was missed ten years ago. It’s not like it was the Dark Ages. Computers existed. How was it not found when the police looked into her disappearance?”
“Because the police were barely competent,” Tate replied, his tone sour. “They only did what Dad told them to do…which I’m pretty sure was nothing.”
For the longest time, Tate had assumed that his father didn’t know anything about Lily Winslow’s disappearance. But now? He was convinced that Joel wasn’t telling the whole truth. He might not be responsible, but he knew more than he let on.
What are you trying to hide, Dad?
“I’m working on getting us access,” Cooper went on. “Maybe even today, so be ready. Got it?”
Tate was more than ready to see what was behind the storage unit door. His mother had been an intelligent woman, seeing far more than most people gave her credit for. She wasn’t just a local socialite who planned charity events—she was smart and resourceful.
If she had a secret stash of money and items, it was for a damn good reason.
She didn’t want Joel Winslow to know about it.
“Marnie is in the living room,” Cat’s mother said after a brief knock on the bedroom door. “She was hoping to speak with you.”
Cat had been lying on her bed, pretending to read a book, but mostly thinking about everything that had happened. She couldn’t get the image of Tyler lying in a pool of blood out of her head.
“I’ll come down,” Cat replied. “Just give me a minute.”
“No problem. I’ll make some tea and chat with her while you freshen up.”
No one could visit the Townsend home without some tea and cookies. Her mother loved entertaining people, and she hadn’t been able to do much of it when she’d been doing her cancer treatments. She had a lot of time to make up for.
It was kind of strange for Marnie to show up, however, without calling first. They weren’t close friends. They were part of the same group, but they’d never been the type to confide in one another. They hadn’t kept in touch after graduation.
Marnie was now a local reporter and anchor on a morning show. Did she want to talk to Cat about Tyler’s shooting? Was she the reporter assigned to the incident?
When she joined the two women in the living room, Cat noticed a tension in the air that she hadn’t expected. Her mother had a smile on her face, but it didn’t appear to be a relaxed and natural one, which was unusual.
Mom usually gets along with everyone.
“There you are,” Grace said, jumping up from the sofa. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Enjoy the tea and cookies.”
Her mother had, indeed, made tea and brought out a tray of chocolate chip cookies that she and Cat had made the morning before.
Mom made a quick exit. What’s up?
“I didn’t get a chance to welcome you back to town at the party last night,” Marnie said, taking a sip of her tea. “It must be very strange to be back in a small town after all the traveling you’ve done.”
It was funny how everyone brought up the contrast. It was different, but Cat could always visit New York City or Paris or wherever else in the world she might want to visit.
“I’m enjoying being home,” Cat replied. “If you don’t count this morning, of course.”
“It’s just so shocking,” Marnie said. “Crazy. I still can’t believe it actually happened. It’s so surreal. Like something out of a movie.”
“Are you covering the story?”
“No,” Marnie said with an emphatic shake of her head. “Someone else is handling that, for which I am grateful. It hits far too close to home for me. There’s no way I could be objective.”
“It’s good that you don’t have to do that.”
The conversation lagged, and Cat picked up a cookie from the plate on the coffee table.
“So models do eat sugar,” Marnie said with a laugh and smile. “You don’t live on water and celery?”
“There have been times I have, but I don’t make a habit of it.”