Searching for Winslet (Fallport Rescue Operations #5)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“How are you holding up?” Jett leaned against the kitchen counter. Last night’s events were still fresh, raw, and totally shocking.

Shamus had emailed the university to inform them that he was withdrawing from his guest lecture due to a family emergency.

Good riddance.

Feya had texted Jett, stating that she intended to file for divorce, but she wanted to make it as gentle as possible for her children. She didn’t know what that looked like, but she needed the support of her family to do that. He told her to reach out to his sister and the rest of the old gang.

They would be there for her.

He and Winslet would be too, but that would be weird, for both women.

However, the hardest part of last night had been the fact he was ready to say those three little words, but fucking Shamus came in and ruined the night. Of course, Jett had a few more opportunities to utter words of love, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He told himself it was too soon. Or that he’d gotten caught up in a sweet moment. Whatever the reason. He’d backpedaled.

“I can’t believe Weston and Haven questioned my dad on and off for six hours.” She sat at the kitchen table, hunched over her coffee. “But it’s his and Cooper’s behavior that has me baffled. Cooper’s coming hard after my dad. Even accusing him of killing my grandfather. Weston said he was screaming at him at the station to tell everyone where he buried the body. I don’t understand.”

“Weston and I were chatting about this while you were in the shower.” Jett pulled back a chair, flipped it around, and straddled it. “Cooper’s adamant that Hannah wasn’t having an affair with your grandfather. The only rumbling he’s willing to give any merit to is the one between your grandma and your great-uncle, but he won’t say anything other than it’s a big fat rumor.”

“You’re rambling and it’s annoying.” She tilted her head and shot a dozen daggers from her sweet eyes.

“The four of them were best friends.” Jett inhaled sharply, letting it out with a swoosh. “According to the research that Weston did, Hannah was desperate to have a child. That she and Cooper had been trying for five years, but nothing. Fertility wasn’t the same back then and options were limited.”

“Would you please get to the point.”

“Hannah had a miscarriage a month before she disappeared.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I guess she and Cooper kept it quiet,” Jett said. “Weston has asked for her medical records. It might shed some light on this.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Cooper admitted that some of their fertility problems were because of a low mobility rate on his part. It wasn’t impossible for him to get his wife pregnant, but it wasn’t a high probability without medical help.” Jett waved his finger. “He admitted to borrowing money from your grandfather for treatments.”

“Interesting that this never came up before.”

“Cooper didn’t see the relevance. He’s never believed that your grandfather had an affair with Hannah. Or that they ran off together. He’s always maintained they were murdered.”

“By my father.”

Jett nodded. No point in denying that fact.

Knock. Knock.

“Who the hell could that be this early?” Jett rose and made his way to the front door. He pulled back the door. “Mr. Payne? What are you doing here?”

“Where’s my daughter? I need to talk to her.” Winslet’s father sidestepped Jett.

While Thomas’ eyes were bloodshot, they were also wide-open and wild with anger. His hair was disheveled. He paced in the small foyer. “Is she here?”

“Daddy?” Winslet appeared in family room. “What’s going on?”

“This is a goddamn shit show.” Thomas planted his hands on his hips.

That’s when Jett noticed the weapon tucked in the back of his pants.

Shit, that wasn’t good. Jett’s gun was locked up in a cupboard in the kitchen.

Why the hell was Thomas packing?

Jett ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to defuse the situation. He needed to get the upper hand of whatever Thomas had planned. He needed his cell.

And he needed his fucking weapon.

Not necessarily in that order.

Winslet stared at her father. He’d always been a well put together man no matter what was going on in his life. He never let the rumor mill control his actions, which had been obvious to her growing up because of all his affairs. He never seemed to care what anyone thought.

Whenever people whispered about the murders, he’d tell his girls that unsolved crimes just made people gossip about stuff they had no idea about. He’d tell them that someday the truth would come out. That his parents’ killer would be brought to justice.

That the crime would be solved, and they would all be allowed to live in peace.

And if it didn’t, not to let the chatter bother them because it didn’t matter. He knew the truth.

“I don’t know who Weston thinks he is or why Chief Hill is allowing this to happen. It’s fucking ridiculous,” her father said.

“What are you talking about?” Winslet asked.

“Weston’s at the house right now with a search warrant. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll find, but it’s police harassment.” Her father had fire coming from his eyes. She’d never seen so much rage before. Her dad had always been a mild-mannered kind of person. He almost never raised his voice.

That had always made it hard for her to hate him. He wasn’t violent. Or mean. He never belittled his children. Although he did play favorites between his two daughters, which she’d made easy by being the bad child. Even though he cheated on his wife, which was disrespectful, he showered her mother with affection when they were together.

As if to make up for his lying ass.

“Where’s Mom?” Winslet inched closer to Jett. She needed to feel his presence. His kindness.

His love.

Jett wrapped his arm around her waist.

“She spent the night at Tammy’s,” her father said. “I texted her and told her to spend the day there. But I didn’t tell her what was going on. I don’t want this to touch her. Considering everything, this is the last thing she needs.”

“What does that mean?” Winslet blinked. Her mind rolled her father’s words around, but nothing made sense.

Her dad pointed his finger in her face. “You just had to stick your nose where it didn’t belong. First, by telling your mother about what you saw all those years ago. Then poisoning your sister against me. Now she’s filling your mother’s head full of ideas.” He poked her in the chest.

Jett stepped between them. “Don’t you dare touch her again.”

“Fuck off. This doesn’t concern you,” her dad said. The smell of whiskey tumbled from his breath like the ocean breeze rolling onto the shore.

Her dad wasn’t a big drinker. At least not that she ever saw.

“Your mother thinks she wants to leave me.” Her dad took a step back. “I’m not going to let that happen. Just like I’m not going to prison for something I didn’t do.” He shook his head violently. “I did not kill my mother. I watched my dad pull the trigger.”

Winslet covered her mouth and gasped.

“If that’s the case,” Jett said calmly. “Why didn’t you tell the police at the time?” He held Winslet tight. His arms were like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.

She grappled with the revelation, trying to make sense of it. A million questions flooded her brain, but she couldn’t open her mouth to ask a single one.

Her dad tossed his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a funny laugh. More like a menacing, murderous laugh.

“Oh my God,” Winslet whispered. “You killed Grandpa, didn’t you?”

“Was it in self-defense?” Gently, Jett pushed Winslet behind him. “I’m sure all this can be explained away. Why don’t we call Weston. He’s a reasonable man. You were a teenager who witnessed a traumatic event and?—”

“They will twist it.” Her father reached into his jeans and pulled out a gun.

“Jesus, Dad. What the hell?” She clutched Jett’s shoulders.

“I’m not going to prison. I can’t. Not after all these years.” Her dad waved his gun around like a lunatic before he pointed it directly at Jett’s chest. “You’re good friends with Weston and his wife. I need you to tell them they’re wrong. Tell them something about those bones you found. Tell them anything. I don’t care. Just get them out of my house and off my back so I can fix things with my wife and go about my life.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she said softly. “Bones don’t lie and there wasn’t much information they gave us other than who she was. That she was originally buried somewhere in Fallport, and she was shot twice in the chest with… oh shit.” Winslet swallowed.

“What?” Jett glanced over his shoulder.

“The ballistics on the bullets I found in her chest must have come back and it had to have matched my grandfather’s gun,” she said.

“We have to spin that, so it was my dad who killed her.” Her father narrowed his stare. “My father. He killed Hannah. She showed up when he was trying to clean up the mess.”

“Why was Hannah at the house?” Winslet asked, her voice finally gaining strength. She tried to inch around Jett, but he wouldn’t let her. Not that she wanted a gun pointed anywhere near her body. However, she didn’t like it aimed at her boyfriend’s heart.

“I’d like the answer to that and to why your father killed your mom as well,” Jett said. “Why don’t you put that thing away and we can sit down and talk this through and figure out a plan.”

She dug her nails into Jett’s shoulders. What fucking plan? There was only one thing to do. Call the cops and have her father taken in. Even she could see that. Regardless of the outcome, he needed to tell the story to Weston. Or Haven. Or Chief Hill. If he was justified—as in self-defense—when it came to her grandfather, she’d accept that.

But she was struggling to understand why Hannah Wilks had to die.

“No.” Her dad held the weapon steady. Not bad for a drunk man. Or maybe he was just hungover. “My daughter here is going to call Weston and give him a logical explanation of why they are barking up the wrong tree. She will get them out of my house and off my property. My father is still missing. They need to be searching for him. He killed my mother. Therefore, he killed Hannah. It’s that simple.”

Just like that, a lightbulb went off in Winslet’s brain. “Okay. I’ll help you, but only if you tell us everything that happened. I need the truth. If I don’t have that, I can’t develop a plausible misdirection in this case.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.” Her dad cocked a brow.

“You think I want to see my dad go to prison?” she said. “I might hate how you cheat on Mom. Actually, I think you’re a snake for doing that. I know how that feels. It sucks. But that doesn’t change the fact you’re still my dad and I love you.” All that was true. She loved her father. With all that she was. It would probably never change. Even though she was staring at a cold-blooded murderer.

Maybe he was somewhat justified for killing his father.

But she couldn’t imagine he was when it came to Hannah.

Slowly, her father lowered his weapon. “That, I actually believe.”

“Put that thing away and I’ll go make some coffee.” Jett let out a long breath. He held his palm out.

“I’ll keep this close.” Her dad lowered his chin. “Just in case.”

Now all Winslet needed to do was get the truth, turn on her father, and not become another casualty in the insanity of her past.