Page 24 of Weight of Guilt

He dried his hands and headed toward the door.

He’d told himself earlier that whatever was happening in that house wasn’t his business. That resolve lasted exactly as long as it took him to cross his own living room. Then he was out the door, down the steps, and jogging toward Wren’s place. Tank followed at his heels.

The voices sharpened as he drew closer. They were calling out a name, over and over.

Mason.

Nash knew that name. He’d seen the kid a handful of times. The boy was always either kicking a soccer ball or on his bike. Once he’d stopped in Nash’s driveway to inform him with total seriousness that Tank was “the coolest dog he’d ever seen.”

He’d liked the boy ever since.

Had something happened to him? Did this have anything to do with the reappearance of Christian?

His pulse jumped.

Nash came through the trees at a jog. His knee throbbed with every footfall, the old wound reminding him it hadn’t finished healing. But he didn’t slow down.

Wren stood at the edge of the woods, her face white. She called out her son’s name, traces of panic in her tone. Her sisters were behind the house doing the same.

“Wren.” He reached her, breathing hard. “I heard you yelling. What happened?”

“It’s Mason.” She glanced at Nash for only a second. “He was in the front yard. On his bike. I stepped inside for a few minutes, and then he was gone.”

“You think he took off somewhere?” Nash scanned the area for anything that didn’t belong.

“I . . . I don’t know. His bike is there, by the woods.” Her hands shook along with her voice. “He knows the rules. He’s never wandered off.”

Nash’s hands fisted at his sides as he glanced at the abandoned bike.

Wren might not admit it out loud, but she needed his help.

And there was no way Nash was walking away right now.

Bo was losing his mind.

Mason’s bike lay on its side at the edge of the woods, and her dog stood over it, barking into the trees. Not the mail-carrier bark. Not the squirrel bark. This one came from somewhere deeper in him, and he wasn’t stopping to breathe in between.

Wren called his name.

He didn’t turn around.

“Marlowe! Nora!” Her voice cracked. “I think he may have gone into the woods!”

Marlowe came around the side of the house at a dead run. Nora was already crossing the yard.

“Stay in the yard,” Nash said. “Work the barn and the outbuildings. If Mason doubled back, we don’t need three people in the trees missing him.”

No one argued.

Nora and Marlowe headed for the barn.

Wren went to the bike. It was lying where the mowed grass gave out, front wheel still turned.

“Wren.” Nash was watching her. “You with me?”

“I’m with you.” She stood and followed Nash into the woods.

The trees closed over them within twenty feet, and the temperature dropped. Bo came as far as the first row of trees and stopped.