Cat didn’t know who Campbell was, but she had a bad feeling that he was going to be in charge of the town whether he liked it or not. The current sheriff was literally swaying on his feet.
“I just came by for some chicken soup to go. I’m heading back to the station, and I’ll go over these statements. Plus, I still haven’t found Leo and Shelly.”
“I don’t think?—”
Tate didn’t get to finish his reply. The sheriff’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and in the next second, he was lying on the scarred wooden floor.
Passed out cold.
Chapter
Eight
Tate’sinsane 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 thedoor, 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 shehada 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. “Shehasa 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?”