“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 mightgo 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.
