Page 35 of Unveiled

Chapter Nineteen

What am I thinking?

That question plagued her all the way to her childhood home. She took a chance that there would be information to be found there before she braved going to Dale’s. Plus, she could get the car that was still at her parents’ and not have to call another ride share.

Using her ride share app was the first connection to her old life she allowed, because at this point, Dale would know where she was, or at least who she was connected to, within a few hours anyway, so why not download the app onto the phone Rush gave her?

A tear tracked down her cheek as she brought up the visual of him sleeping peacefully. It was damn near impossible to pen the note she left. A note that didn’t do her emotions justice, but she hoped would be adequate enough for him not to worry.

After they’d made love, she slept fitfully knowing she had to do this. She only hoped Rush would understand. If she did nothing and Dale didn’t explain why, she’d never be able to move forward with her life or with Rush. Tatum would be stuck spinning her wheels. She had to do this, for herself, but also for them.

The driver had to tell her they’d arrived. More than once, judging by the irritation in his voice. And the fact that she didn’t remember the last few miles. “Could you pull that way? Toward the house?”

The driver begrudgingly followed her request. Most people didn’t see the house hidden in the trees about a half-acre or so away.

Her knees quaked as she approached the front door to key in the code. She decided if her parents had known anything, had any suspicions, information would be hidden there and not in the funeral home where Dale had full access.

Baffled didn’t begin to express the depths of her confusion over this whole damn situation. Why? All her questions started with why. Why kill her parents? Why doctor their will? Why the funeral home? Why, why, why?

A wave of loss washed over her as she stepped inside. Not just for her parents, but for this place. The home she spent her life in. She hadn’t been back since they were killed. Dale convinced her it would be too painful. While she was sure he had an agenda, he was actually correct in that. She shook off the grief as best she could.

It was time to gather her wits and focus. That focus shifted to her dad’s office door. A sad smile crept across her face as she remembered her mom teasing him it was a man cave, and he just called it an office so she would leave him alone. Tatum gasped when she opened the door. Her father had always kept it meticulously tidy, and it was anything but. Someone had been looking for something, and from the looks of it, they didn’t find it.

All his personal files were thrown around the room and family photos lay destroyed. What was going on? Her parents had nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing worth getting killed for. Nothing to be found by tearing up their home.

Tatum turned and rushed to her parent’s bedroom and was met with more of the same. It was overwhelming, so she gave in to the urge to bawl her eyes out. Sitting there in a pile of her murdered parents’ clothes, she curled into herself.

Slowly, the tears receded, and fury replaced. . .everything. Dale was looking for something important, something he was willing to destroy her childhood home to find. But Dale being, well, Dale, he never bothered to learn anything real about her or her family, she could see that now. Everything had started getting clearer with the first step she took away from that chapel. Now it was becoming crystal. The state of her home and the tears she’d finally shed clarified so much.

Her father kept meticulous records for the business and their personal life. Those were filed away neatly—well, not anymore—in the filing cabinets in his home and work offices.

But if he wanted to hide something or keep it safe, it would be in a place only they would think to look. It wouldn’t be anywhere near the filing cabinets. All the little things that meant something to her dad that he’d collected over time were in one place.If Dale knew anything at all about them, he would’ve known that.

Tatum smiled at the memories she knew she’d find. She picked up her mother’s favorite dress and hung it reverently on a padded hanger. Not that her mother cared now, but she did. Her mother would ‘tsk’ if she saw the state of their room. Righting the family picture on the dresser, she sighed and stepped into the hallway.

Making her way through the rest of the house, she realized Dale left no stone unturned, or potted plant, magazine, throw pillow. Tatum felt the need to clean as she went, even though her meager effort barely made a dent in the mess. Clean as you go, dear, and then it will be a breeze to finish up in the end.

Her mother’s voice whispered through her mind. It was as if she were there. Tatum was tempted to turn and check, but knew she’d only be met with utter disappointment. Even the kitchen hadn’t been unscathed by Dale’s desperate search. She was getting less confident that he’d missed her dad’s special spot by the second. Not because she thought the man gave a shit about her or her dad, because clearly, he didn’t. But in his scoop and toss search method, he may have accidentally happened upon it.

Stepping into the garage induced some mixed feelings for her. This was her and her dad’s sanctuary, their together time. Their spot. Hours upon hours had been spent there with her dad, learning about cars and life lessons. Surveying the area, it looked like only a few things had been disturbed. Storage boxes with holiday decorations had been riffled through and toolboxes emptied.

The car cover was pulled back just enough to see what it hid, but that appeared to be it. Tatum removed it the rest of the way, allowing her eyes to appreciate the hot mess underneath.

A doorless, hoodless, nineteen-eighty-two Buick Regal with four flat tires but a shiny rebuilt three fifty engine sat there. She trailed her finger along the dull paint, much as she had Rush’s Grand National. The surface was rougher, but it felt like home. Memories of the time they’d spent rebuilding it flooded her entire being. After circling the car, she sat on the worn passenger’s side of the maroon bench seat. “We never did get around to adding that split bench, did we, Dad?”

Tatum thought if her dad was looking down on her, he would’ve chuckled at her question. It had been a hot button argument for them. He wanted to keep the solid bench, she wanted to add the upgrade. He was probably mumbling to himself something about classic cars and ungrateful kids needing the next best thing instead of appreciating the originals. A shot of laughter bubbled up from deep inside her. Even with the shitshow her life had become, she was actually happy sitting on the worn out and not so great smelling fabric of a car that had meant the world to her dad. . .and to her.

Reaching over, she flipped the driver’s visor down and two keys fell into her hand. Using the round one, she opened the locked dash. Even knowing what she’d find, the sight punched her in the chest. She picked up a rock shaped vaguely like an arrowhead. The same one her dad assured her was super cool and he would treasure it always when she gifted it to him. She rubbed her thumb along the rough edge and smiled.

Her father had carried it in his pocket for years. It wasn’t until the engine of the Regal fired up and purred for the first time that he took it out and placed it in the glove box. Instead of tucking it back in the dash, she shoved it in her pocket.

Next was a picture of all three of them camping. They were dirty but happy. It had been an amazing weekend of family bonding. No electronics, no work, nothing but them to entertain each other. That was her eighteenth birthday. Her heart broke when she remembered how hurt her parents had been when she expressed her disappointment at not having a party. Her disappointment had dissipated the minute they pitched the tent and she saw how much it meant to her parents.

She tucked that picture in her back pocket so as not to damage it. She was afraid she might not make it through the contents of the glovebox before running out of pocket space.

“Awwwww.” She squealed when she reached for the sheer white fabric with blue vines and flowers. It was her mother’s scarf. Another laugh shot out before she could stop it. Her mother had searched high and low for it and her father swore up and down he didn’t have a clue where it was.

He’d stashed it in the Regal, and she knew why. When her dad first spotted her mom weeks before he asked her out, she’d been wearing that scarf. Then again when he proposed. It was special to him. So special, he had the florist wrap it around the base of her bouquet. “It was covered in white ribbon. Your mother didn’t have a clue what she held in her hands, but I knew. So mums the word, Pumpkin.”

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