Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
“I’m going to need to think about this,” Cat repeated. “This is a big decision, and I want to talk to Tate about it first. I’m sure you understand. I sent him a couple of pictures of the backyard to see what he thinks.”
“Of course, but even if you don’t live here, this could be a terrific investment property. Think about it. This is a great opportunity, especially now that you’re not bringing in those big supermodel bucks.”
Cat had invested wisely and hadn’t put all of her income up her nose. She was going to be fine whether she bought the house or not. But she didn’t much care for Winnie’s words or tone. It was the first crack in the jovial realtor’s facade that she’d seen since returning to town.
This wasn’t her first rodeo, however. She’d heard plenty from others about how “easy” her job was and how rich she was getting doing it.
“Nothing lasts forever,” Cat replied lightly. “But I do need to think about it.”
“Of course, this is a big purchase. But don’t wait too long. I don’t think this house will last on the market. There are other people scheduled to look at the house.”
Winnie walked over to the sofa, fluffing the pillows, then giving them a “karate chop” so they’d have the classic indent on the top.
“I have another showing in fifteen minutes,” she said, now fussing with the drapes at the front window. “If you don’t put in an offer, they will. This is what they’ve been looking for.”
Cat was fine with losing the house, and she wasn’t thrilled about Winnie putting so much pressure on her either.
There was the sound of a car outside, and Winnie, still standing at the window, stiffened visibly. Her fingers curled tightly on the thick material of the curtains, the knuckles going white. Had her clients shown up early, and was she upset about it?
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Winnie replied, turning toward Cat, a strange frozen smile on her face. “It’s going to be fine. Where is my purse?”
“I think you left it on the kitchen counter.”
Cat gathered her own purse and keys, ready to thank Winnie for her time and then head to Tate’s. On the way, she’d give Finn a call.
“You need to leave. Now.”
Winnie’s commanding tone captured Cat’s attention, and her gaze moved from her purse to the other woman.
Her friend was now wearing a stormy expression, lips trembling, and eyes glistening with tears as she held a gun pointed directly at her own temple.
Well, fuck me.
“You need to go. Right now,” Winnie repeated.
“Winnie, what are you doing?” Cat asked, keeping her tone as level and normal as possible. “Put the gun down, for heaven’s sake. That’s not going to make me want to buy the house.”
She tried joking, but Winnie’s expression didn’t lighten one bit. Her friend’s dark, glassy gaze was zeroed in on Cat, the charming realtor of only moments ago, completely gone.
“He’s here for me,” Winnie said, her arm visibly trembling and tears beginning to fall, but the gun was still pointed at Winnie’s head.
“And I’m not going. It’s not my fault. It was all Tyler’s fucking fault.
If he hadn’t ended things, it would all still be okay.
I’m not going to jail for that asshole. I can’t go to prison. ”
Winnie’s voice broke, more tears sliding down the other woman’s cheeks. Cat was confused by the strange twist of events, but she was sure she’d heard Winnie admitting to Tyler’s murder.
“Who is here for you?” Cat asked, her voice soft and gentle, even as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “You can tell me. I want to understand. I want to help you.”
Once, about five years ago, Cat had been at a swanky New York City party when one of the female guests had a huge argument with their boyfriend.
When he’d told her it was over and then stomped out, she’d proceeded to have something of a meltdown right then and there, grabbing a sharp knife from the buffet and holding it at her own throat while telling everyone to back away.
One of the guests who had been a psychologist, or at least claimed to be, had talked her down until her sister had come to pick her up and take her home.
That doctor had kept the woman from doing something terrible that day, and now Cat was trying to emulate him to keep something else terrible from happening.
“The sheriff is here. He just pulled into the driveway. I don’t think he’s here because he wants to buy a house,” Winnie jeered, her arm wavering with her anger. “He wants me, and I’m not going. Tyler is not going to hurt me again. He deserved what he got.”
Cat didn’t think anybody deserved to be shot to death, but this might not be the time to discuss her belief system. Clearly, Winnie believed it, and that’s all that mattered right now.
“I could tell that you knew it was me by the way you were talking last night,” Winnie went on. “I could feel you looking at me.”
She hadn’t known anything, but Winnie must have had a guilty conscience to think that people were looking and watching her.
“You two were seeing each other, right?” Cat asked, wanting to keep the woman talking.
When Winnie was talking, she probably wouldn’t be shooting.
“It hurts when someone doesn’t feel the same.
I understand why you were angry and disappointed.
He broke your heart, didn’t he? It wasn’t fair at all. You deserved better.”
“What do you know about being heartbroken?” Winnie asked, her lip curled in derision.
“You’re a fucking supermodel. I bet you had men chasing you around.
You can’t possibly know how I feel. I loved Tyler.
He was going to be my ticket out of my shitty marriage, but then all of a sudden, he didn’t have time for me.
He didn’t return my calls or texts. He tried to ghost me.
I told him at the party that he couldn’t treat me like that.
I wouldn’t stand for it. He just said that I’d taken things too seriously, that we were only casual. It wasn’t casual to me.”
“So you shot him?”
Winnie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand while the other still pointed the gun at her head.
“I didn’t want to do it, but I had to.”
“Winnie, you don’t want to shoot yourself. A man isn’t worth dying over. Put down the gun. Shooting yourself isn’t going to solve anything. I think, truly, you wish you hadn’t shot Tyler as well. I think you regret it.”
Blood still roared in Cat’s ears and her heart slammed against her ribs, but she forced herself to at least sound calm even if she didn’t feel it. She didn’t want to make any sudden movements, spooking Winnie into pulling the trigger.
She hadn’t been around her friend group for ten years, but she simply couldn’t believe that Winnie was a cold-blooded killer.
That’s probably what Tyler thought, too. Get real here.
“I didn’t mean to kill him,” Winnie sobbed, more tears flowing down her now-red face. “I only wanted to scare him. I just wanted him to know how much I loved him.”
Okay, that was a pretty screwed up way to do it, but this wasn’t the moment to point it out.
The sudden sound of the doorbell caught both Cat and Winnie off guard, and for a split second, Cat thought the woman might pull the trigger by accident. Luckily, she didn’t appear all that adept with a handgun, and it almost slipped out of her fingers before she caught it.
The doorbell rang again, along with a sharp knock.
“This is the sheriff,” a loud voice came through the wooden door. “Please open the door. Once again, this is the sheriff.”
Cat didn’t have a clue why Finn was here, but she was glad that he was.
Later, once she’d survived, she’d have to tell him that she hadn’t been in any danger until he arrived.
Five minutes later, and she would have been driving to Tate’s place completely unaware that Winnie carried a gun in her purse.
“Don’t turn around,” Winnie hissed. “And don’t make a noise. He’ll leave eventually.”
“He knows we’re in here,” Cat whispered. “Our cars are out front. He’s not going to just leave. You need to put down the gun and talk to him. Let him help you.”
“He’ll help me into a prison cell. Now shut up while I think. I can’t think with you talking.”
More knocking, much like angry banging than anything.
“This is the sheriff. Open the door now.”
Winnie’s wavering arm swung widely away from herself and to the right, before a blast from the gun deafened Cat’s ears.
“No one moves,” Winie yelled, the gun still pointed at the door. Had the bullet gone through and hit Finn? “Stay out there or I’ll shoot again.”
Tate, I love you. Mom, I love you. Shit, I don’t want this to be the end.
Cat was smack dab in the middle of a standoff with the police.
And she was the hostage.
Adrenaline racing, Tate was ready to claw his way into that house to get Cat away from what appeared to be a crazed Winnie with a gun. If there was any question as to whether she was Tyler’s killer, there wasn’t now.
The how and why could be figured out later. Right now, the imperative was to get Cat out alive and get the gun away from Winnie. The woman he loved was trapped with a killer.
“I’ll go around the back,” Tate said, his mind whirling with possibilities. “The back door might still be unlocked from the house tour. If not, I’ll try some windows.”
“And get yourself killed,” Finn replied, gritting his teeth. “Winnie isn’t afraid to pull the trigger. Luckily, she’s a lousy shot. She hit the door frame and not me. We might not be so fortunate next time.”
“So what’s your plan, because I’m not going to sit here while Winnie’s in there threatening to shoot Cat.”
Neither Tate nor Finn had expected any of this. While there had been a chance that Winnie was the killer, he hadn’t expected a showdown upon their arrival.
“I’m going to try and negotiate with her,” Finn replied. “Hopefully, I can talk her into surrendering.”
“She just tried to shoot you,” Tate pointed out. “I don’t think she wants to be taken alive.”
Finn’s head jerked around at the statement.