Tatum Elizabeth Carter
Born on September 9, 1992 in Denver, Colorado, to Sarah Rose Carter.
Moved to Baton Rouge in 1998 when Tatum and her twin brother, Theodore, were six years old.
She works as a waitress in a diner and a gas station attendant on the rough side of town.
He’s a first class petty officer in the U.S. Navy
Their mother, Sarah, was killed in a car accident five days ago.
I read through the information a few more times, looking for any clue as to why Blaze asked me to do this but I’m still in the same spot I was three days ago when he first plopped this folder down in front of me. There are no answers here but I can’t stop reading, can’t stop searching. My phone starts beeping and I glance over at it, straightening in my seat when I see the alert from the tracker I put on Theodore’s car a few days ago.
They pull into the parking lot and I slip my sunglasses on despite the clouds blanketing the sky in an attempt to remain unnoticed. I’m glad I thought to borrow Smith’s truck. Had I shown up in my matte black Camaro there’s no way I could remain anonymous. They slip into a spot six spaces down from me and I grab my phone, pretending to look at it as they climb out and Tate grabs a plain looking urn from the back seat. Theo offers his arm and she takes it as they start off down the path to the beach.
Memories from my own father’s funeral surface and tears burn my eyes. Back then, I believed everyone when they told me that time heals all wounds and that things would get easier. In some ways, I suppose they were right but grief is tricky. Something will remind me of my dad and out of the blue, I’m overcome with pain like I’m that kid again, saying good-bye to my old man over a radio. Or I’ll wake up one morning and I won’t be able to think of anything else. That feeling will hang over me like a dark cloud all day long, assaulting me with pain.
There’s so much in my life that my father missed out on and so much that I still needed him for but he was stolen from us. Watching Tate and Theo as they stop by the water, I know the anguish they’re feeling for the loss of their mother. I understand the ache overwhelming them and it makes me feel connected to them in a way that only someone who’s lost a parent can be. Especially her. I’m not sure what it is exactly – maybe the steely set of her amber gaze that tells the world she can handle herself or the broken look she’s been wearing lately that reveals the soft side I suspect she keeps hidden most of the time but she is different than any other girl I’ve ever seen.
Rolling down the truck window, I shiver as cold air rushes into the cab and glance down at the parabolic microphone Blaze insisted I bring with me because when he said he wanted to know everything, he literally meant everything. It’s also why I had to sneak cameras into their mother’s house. I wonder how many Hail Marys I’d need to say to not feel like a creepy stalker when this is all over. Not that I even have a clue when it will end.
Up ahead, Tate and Theo turn to face each other as he unscrews the urn’s lid. Even from two hundred yards away, I can still see her take a breath before she reaches in and pulls out a handful of ashes, sprinkling them in the water. A single tear slips down her cheek and I empathize with her even more. It doesn’t matter what age it happens, losing a parent is always hard. A loss like that shakes your whole damn foundation and it takes time to find your footing again. Her brother is stoic and I wonder if he’s trying to be strong for her or he’s still too overwhelmed with shock to feel anything else. For me, it took weeks before the full magnitude of the loss of my father hit me.
I reach across the truck and grab the folder out of the passenger seat, flipping it open to read everything Blaze has about Tate’s brother. I’ve been engrossed in this file for days, so fucking curious about all the damn holes in the story. Of course I can’t get anything else out of Blaze and it’s not the first time that I’ve wondered if this is really on the up and up. If this is really okay, why won’t he tell me anything else and why am I not allowed to tell any of my brothers?
It makes no goddamn sense.
Glancing up, I watch them as they step toward the waves and sprinkle more of Sarah’s ashes in the ocean before Tate discreetly wipes away another tear. I haven’t even officially met this girl yet and she already has me reeling. I don’t know if it’s because she reminds me so much of my past but even standing on that beach at her mother’s funeral, she has my full attention. She’s sad, broken, and yet, still so fierce and strong. Beautiful but guarded.
In the past three days, I’ve spent most of my time parked outside of her house watching her on the video feed Streak, the club’s resident tech expert, was able to hack into for me. I was surprised when I broke into her house and noticed the discreet cameras hiding throughout each room but add that to my growing list of questions. Besides, I’m secretly glad for them since they give me a whole new insight into this girl. Somehow, she’s worming her way under my skin and I don’t like it. Tossing the folder back to the passenger seat, I grab the microphone again and slip the headphones on before holding it out of the open window.
“When did Mom bring us down here for that vacation?” Tate asks, staring out at the ocean as the wind blows her hair all around her face.
“I don’t know. It was shortly after we moved here.”
She nods, pulling her sweater tighter and I barely resist the urge to climb out of the car and offer her my damn jacket. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“Do you think we’ll ever get any answers?” she asks and there’s vulnerability in her voice but if Theo notices, he doesn’t let on.
“No. I think Mom had more secrets than we can ever imagine.”
Tate wipes away another tear and I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her that it will get easier. “It feels like I didn’t even know her.”
“I don’t think we really did, T,” he replies, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer.
“You have to promise that you’ll never keep secrets from me, Theo.”
He turns to her and wraps her up in a hug. “I promise. Besides, you’d know if I tried.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” she agrees with a smile as she pulls away. “You ready to get out of here?”
He nods and they turn, disappearing behind one of the dunes as I pull the headphones off and toss the microphone in the passenger seat with a sigh. Pulling her photo from the folder, I let out an annoyed growl because despite the fact that I’ve never even met this girl, I’m eager to see her again.
Chapter Three
Tatum
Standing at the entrance of the living room, I look around the space with a cup of coffee in my hand, memories flooding my mind. Mom’s house is a classic southern cottage and one of the basic criteria of the design is its homey feel but Mom took it a step further. The light teal blue walls are welcoming but not overbearing or too bright and she managed to find white couches that don’t feel sterile or untouchable. She coupled that with the wicker chairs that give it a coastal flair and two teal ottomans that are more like beanbags. Large windows allow the sunlight to flood the room and you can’t take a step without the old hardwood floors creaking but, for me, that’s always added to the charm of the place.