Page 50 of Single Mom's Undoing
“It’s still there in his garage.” I sigh as I stare at the property deed for a moment. “I can’t bring myself to even start the engine, but Jodie says Carter and the guys took good care of the truck, too.”
Pat nods and smiles again. “They’ve been keeping me apprised of everything. They were true friends to Stephan; I’ll give them that. In my line of business, those are hard to come by.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“There is something else,” Pat says.
I look up and notice the glum look on his face. My heart drops. “What?”
“Your brother kept a storage unit just outside of town. I didn’t even know about it until I got back and went through the trust fund dossier and found a key hidden in the folder’s pocket,” Pat replies. “I think Stephan stashed the key when he signed the paperwork, probably knowing I wouldn’t find it right away. It took me a while to figure out what it was to.”
“Do you still have it?” I ask, a sense of urgency quick to come over me.
He nods. “I thought I’d spare you the trouble of checking that storage unit yourself. I have power of attorney, so I went over there and closed his account, retrieving everything he kept in that unit,” he says, then gestures at a black box on a nearby coffee table. “Everything Stephan had in that unit is in that box. It’s yours, Clara. I hope it gives you some peace, at least.”
Slowly, I get up from my seat and go over to the box, my curiosity swiftly getting the better of me. With trembling hands, I remove the lid and take a moment to analyze the contents.
Tears spring to my eyes as I take out an old baseball mitt.
“We used to play catch when I was growing up.”
“There’s also a log of when each item was brought in. Stephan kept remarkably detailed records. The mitt and a few other personal objects were brought in a few days beforehe passed,” Pat sighs deeply. “I think he knew what he was going to do.”
“He didn’t,” I brusquely reply, giving him a hard look.
“My apologies, Clara, I didn’t mean to pull at the scab of an old wound.”
“It’s not that. It’s…there’s a lot more to the story than you know. It’s okay,” I mutter and rifle through the box until I find a thick stack of Polaroid photos tied up in twine, photos of him and Margot mostly, with dates and details on the back. “Oh, shit.”
“What is it?” Pat asks, quick to pick up the graveness in my tone.
I think about it for a moment before I answer. I’m tempted to be brave and to tell Stephan’s lawyer about what really happened. But I now have a trust fund to access and a son to protect. Right now is the worst possible moment to make a move against the man who drove me out of town after Stephan was killed.
Besides, I’m not sure I can even fully trust Pat.
Bill Lockwood has a habit of buying off people who could be a hindrance to his affairs. He ultimately bought me, too, in the end. My stomach tightens as I put the photos and the mitt back in the box, placing the lid firmly on top.
“Never mind,” I say, shaking my head.
“I assume you’re referring to those photos of him and Margot,” he scoffs and leans back into his seat. “Don’t worry, Clara. Attorney-client privilege extends beyond the client’s death, as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t tell anyone about what I found in that storage unit.”
I stare at him for a long second. “So you knew about the affair.”
“I knew about a lot of things, Clara,” he grimly replies. “You should focus on Matty and that money for his surgery, then get out of town.”
My blood runs cold. I recognize that tone. That subtle unspoken warning. I didn’t notice it before because Pat and I hadn’t spoken face-to-face yet, only over the phone and via email. Now that I’m here, it all hits differently.
“What are you trying to tell me, Pat?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“I’ve stayed out of this for the past five years, Clara, and I’d like to keep it that way,” he replies, his gaze never leaving mine. “For your safety, for Matty’s safety, all I can do is advise you to be careful. Do what you will with what else you find in that box but wait until the trust money clears and Matty gets his surgery before you do anything.”
And then it hits me.
Pat knows. Maybe Bill Lockwood paid him a visit, too. But Stephan’s lawyer is doing his damnedest to make sure I get what Stephan wanted me to get, with a little more on top, without anyone else finding out, at least until the time is right.
I point at the box. “I presume nobody else knows about this.”
“Nobody.”
