Page 27 of The Guilty One
He pinches his lips together. “Look, you should go. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, but I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t have any business getting involved.”
“Why was Nelson Insurance’s address in his email? Can you at least tell me that? Did he come here? Were you guys working together on something?”
“No. I have no idea why Dakota would’ve sent him the address.” He stands. “Maybe they were going to send me a card.”
“You all have that same tattoo.” I gesture toward the picture, then touch the back of my shoulder, where the same tattoo would fit on my skin if I had it. “The lion. What does it mean? Tate never told me.”
He looks at the photo, scowling. “It was stupid college stuff. We were drunk and thought they looked cool.” He holds out his arm, gesturing toward the door. “Please don’t make me call the cops. This is my place of business. You can’t just show up.” His shoulders rise with a heavy breath. “Please just don’t come here again, okay? I hope you find Tate, but there’s nothing else I can do to help you. I’ve left that period of my life in the past, and that’s where I want it to stay.”
I nod, gathering my purse and standing, but think better of it and grab a sticky note and pen, jotting down my phone number. “Please, just…if you think of anything, please call me.”
He nods but looks annoyed, and finally, I leave with nothing more than I arrived with. When I make it to the car, I realize the small silver lining is that thought is not entirely true. One thing that came from this trip is that I now know the tattoos were a thing among friends in college, and that they all had them, not just Tate and Dakota. Whether or not that means anything, I’m not sure, but it’s a piece of information I didn’t have before, and I’ll take it.
As I drive across town, I run through the conversation in my head. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to help if Tate was ever truly his friend, but I can see not wanting to get involved in an active investigation, especially if they haven’t spoken in years. Still, if they were truly as close as brothers like Daphne and Lane described, I can’t imagine not wanting to answer questions or help if there was a way I could. I think about the girls I was close with in high school—women I haven’t spoken with in years. If something were to happen to them, even if I knew nothing, I’d want to be involved. I’d want to help. Unless he’s hiding something, the way Aaron is acting doesn’t make any sense to me.
I just wish I knew why Dakota sent him Aaron’s work address a few days ago. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?
When I pull into my driveway, all thoughts of Aaron and our conversation are wiped away by the sight of a police car waiting for me.
I step out of the car at the same time Detective Monroe does. Moments later, my mom pops her head out of the house. I wave at her cautiously. I can’t tell if she looks worried or upset from where I’m standing, and I hate that.
The detective walks toward me. “Afternoon, Mrs. Thompson. Sorry to pop in unannounced.”
“Oh, um, no problem. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not at all. Just got here, and your mom informed me you’d be home any minute. I was just getting ready to try to call you.”
I glance back at the car. “Oh. Is everything alright? Did something happen?”
“I just wanted to follow up with you about something we came across during our investigation.” He folds his hands in front of his stomach, widening his stance, and my stomach drops.
Whatever it is, it requires more than a phone call. This must be serious. I swallow. “Okay.”
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a notepad, flipping it open. “Mrs. Thompson, what can you tell me about the large withdrawal from your investment account on the day before your husband disappeared?”
“My…” My heart stalls. “My what?”
“The joint investment account that you share with your husband as part of a mutual fund. Do you know what I’m referring to? It looks like it had a balance of around two hundred and sixty-four thousand dollars in it.”
I nod. “I know which one you’re talking about, yes, but I don’t know anything about a withdrawal. How much is missing?”
He looks down at his paper again quickly and closes the notebook. “All of it, Mrs. Thompson. Every cent.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
TATE
One Day Before Disappearance
I don’t like lying to Celine, but at this point, what choice do I have? Everything could be falling apart at the seams, shredding the carefully placed pieces of my life, if I don’t figure out what happened to Bradley or at least make sure he never told anyone what we did.
I don’t know, maybe Dakota has gotten in my head. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but if there’s even the slightest chance that Bradley told his fiancée about what we did—or anyone else for that matter—I have to know and then decide how to handle it. I just don’t know yet what that means.
I’m not sure what I’m willing to do to keep our secret—to keep my life intact—anymore. I’m not the person I was back then.
I’m making my way out of the office when I hear Dustin calling my name. I spin around to find him chasing me, and my heart sinks. He’s holding my phone in his hand, a bright smile beaming on his face. “Don’t want to forget this,” he sings. “It was lying on your desk.”
“Oh, shoot. Right. Thanks. I must’ve…forgotten it.” Well, this works out great, doesn’t it? Absolutely perfect.