I waited until Uncle Richard turned the corner, and then I raced around the back end of Broadrick's truck and jumped into the driver's seat. I didn't think Uncle Richard had heard about Broadrick's expensive red pickup truck, but I kept a distance to be safe.

Clearwater was a bigger town than Pelican Bay-they had fast-food restaurants-but Uncle Richard didn't head toward downtown. He also didn't turn toward the diner.

"Where are you going?" I asked as I followed him through a series of turns, heading toward the outskirts of town. Why drive to Clearwater and then not go to Clearwater? What else was out here?

The streets of homes soon turned into larger roads with industrial buildings lining them and big parking lots for the employees. Did he have a night job working at a factory?

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel and leaned forward to get a better view of his movements. He slowed between two factory parking lots, and I increased the distance between us.

Thankfully, most of the lots were full of trucks, so I hoped Broadrick's beast fit in with the esthetic. Definitely more than my Camero would have.

Uncle Richard turned to his left behind a factory with smoke billowing out its roof. I stayed at the corner to see where he went before I followed. We were getting too closed off. Anxiety flooded my system. What if he'd made my tail?

What was my uncle doing in this part of town? He worked at the high school administration office and had no business in Clearwater. Was he leading me to my doom? Our doom? Who was getting doomed?

He made a right, and I lost sight of the van before deciding to continue tracking him. The sign out front said Quick Storage and had rows of short metal buildings with large pull-up garage doors. If he caught me following him, I had to pray he didn't tell my mother. I'd never hear the end of it. I hesitated by the storage unit entrance. If I followed his van past the chain-link gate he drove through, I might make myself a sitting duck.

But none of this made sense. Why would he be here? If Aunt Claire was right, why would he meet a lover here? I had to find out.

I'd never be able to sleep until I dug out the truth.

With a deep breath, I turned into the gated off area and then made a quick right and stopped the truck off to the side. Maybe I'd be able to tell Uncle Richard I got lost.

At a storage facility.

In Clearwater.

Sure, totally believable. Right.

"It's fine. Everything is fine," I chanted under my breath.

The place seemed to be deserted-at least this half-except for a tall white delivery type truck parked at the end of one row. Uncle Richard drove right for it like he knew exactly where he was going.

He stopped the van and jumped out, approaching the two men leaning against the white truck. I searched through Broadrick's glove box, but came up empty-handed. I had to buy him a pair of stakeout binoculars. They'd be a great Christmas gift.

I squinted through the front window, trying to make out any details on the two men. They both wore white overalls like they were off to paint a building once they finished at the storage unit. Did my aunt and uncle hire someone to paint their home?

The taller of the two men yanked up the door on the back of the white truck. I leaned closer. Wow. The entire back end was full of brown boxes from the top to the bottom. They were all exactly the same size and shape with no marks. At least nothing I saw from my position, way on the other side of the aisle. The truck was perfect. Too perfect. In other words, suspicious as hell.

What the hell did they have in those perfectly stacked boxes?

My uncle waited until one guy climbed into the truck and pulled out a box. They balanced it on the back of the truck and Richard peeked inside. He lifted his head with a smile or a sly grin-I couldn't make it out from my distance-and then shook hands with the other man.

I leaned even closer. My forehead hit the side window of the truck, leaving a face print. If Broadrick asked, I'd have to blame it on NB. I just wanted a little closer glimpse.

The shorter of the two men took the box and loaded it along with three more in the back of Richard's van. While this happened, Uncle Richard chatted with the tall man as if they were two best friends, but I'd met all his friends and relatives. This guy wasn't one of them.

Eventually, Richard walked the two men to a storage unit at the far end and opened the door for them. I leaned to the side, resting my elbow on the steering wheel to get a better angle, but no matter which way I leaned, I didn't have a view of the inside.

I pushed myself up, getting as close as possible to the front window without hitting my head. That would be harder to blame on the dog.

"Just another few millimeters and I've got it," I said, twisting my body to the left. Shadows kept the inside of his unit concealed and just out of position.

My elbow slipped, dropped on the horn and sent out an angry blast.

"Shit!" I slid to the truck's floor and hurried to shut it off.

My heart beat hard, and I covered my mouth to hear if someone came searching for me. With a gun.

Seconds turned into minutes, and slowly my breathing returned to normal. No one came running toward the truck. No one took out a window by shooting at me.

Odd.

These situations always called for bullets and car chases.

I peeked my head above the door to glance out the window and automatically flinched.

No one.

There wasn't a single bad guy staring at me from the driver's side window.

Or the passenger.

Not the front.

I whipped around. The back of the truck was empty, too.

Huh?

I slid into the seat and grabbed my phone from the truck's floor. My uncle's van had left the storage unit facility, but the two men were still unloading boxes into the unit he'd opened. I didn't know what it meant, but I snapped a few pictures, zooming in on their faces.

I really needed to find my stupid zoom lens. It had cost me a fortune earlier in the year. I'd never quite gotten the hang of using it, and then I somehow misplaced it during the move.

Uncle Richard was long gone by the time I started the truck and left the facility lot. The men had half the truck unloaded, but I didn't want to wait till they finished. I had important things to do. A dog to feed. That kind of thing.

I spent the car ride back to Pelican Bay in thought.

There were so many possibilities of what Uncle Richard had in those boxes. Antiques. Diamond painting kits. Underwear for his mistress. Drugs. Cats.

So many options.

They were probably antiques. Lots of antiques. An entire truck full of them. He probably had them ready to go for Christmas when my aunt entered her new favorite phase of life. Yeah, that made the most sense. She'd entered an antique phase.

That had to be the answer. My family didn't do weird things. We were boring. There had to be a logical explanation for it. There had to be.

Any alternative just made no sense.

I stopped in front of the bakery. Did I have enough in my account to buy a cupcake and an iced coffee for dinner? Not really. But that didn't mean I didn't want one. I watched the ladies inside the building as they chatted and laughed.

Rather than go in and join my friends, I sat in the truck, replaying what I'd witnessed. If it was any other person in the entire world, I'd say I just watched my uncle do a massive drug buy.

But it was my Uncle Richard.

It had to be something so much dumber. Like he bought a load of Beanie Babies off eBay. Or they invested in boxes of chicken gravy because Aunt Claire figured this Thanksgiving was going to be lit. That was much more their style.

I needed to talk this through with someone, but I had to be careful. This town was full of busybodies. I knew because I was one of them.

I couldn't talk to the bakery girls about this, so I messaged the one person I trusted with this delicate information.

VONNIE: You're definitely coming home. Right? There's no second family I will have to fight?

His response came quickly, which meant almost as much as his reply. The weeks of unanswered messaged from Broadrick took a toll while he was away on mission. I loved knowing he was only a few keys away from an answer once again.

BROADRICK: Two blondes? I'd never survived.

I smiled as I responded.

VONNIE: Who said she was blonde?

BROADRICK: I have a thing for blondes but know my limits. It's only you, babe. Should be home soon.

We paused in our text conversation for my drive home and then picked it up again as NB and I settled in for the evening. I missed time at the bakery, but getting to text Broadrick made it worth it. I'd pick up a shift soon to catch up on the gossip. And earn a little extra money.

I pestered him for more details and a timeline, but either the government taught him how to avoid answering questions from annoying girlfriends super well or they were uncoordinated and had no flight times figured out yet. Honestly, it was fifty-fifty.