Page 25 of Weight of Guilt

Every few yards Wren paused, cupped her hands, and called her son’s name into the trees. Then she made herself wait five seconds before she moved again.

The woods gave nothing back. They’d always been good at keeping secrets. A little too good. Sometimes she hated them for it.

Nash worked the ground beside her, his boots crunching over pine needles and dead leaves. Every so often he crouched over a broken twig or a flattened patch of undergrowth. He’d study it, shake his head, and keep going.

More memories of searching for Christian pummeled her thoughts. Orange vests. Search and rescue dogs. Her mother’s sobs.

She pushed all of it aside. Not now. Falling apart wouldn’t find her son. She needed to stay in the present.

A branch snapped to her left. She spun toward the sound so fast her foot caught a root.

Nash grabbed her arm before she went down. “Easy. That was a deer. Not Mason.”

A zap rushed through her at her sudden nearness to Nash. She quickly pulled away, her reaction leaving her feeling even more uneasy.

“Thanks.” She hated how heat filled her cheeks.

Just ahead, sunlight broke through the canopy in scattered beams. The light threw shapes across the ground that made every stump look like a boy curled small.

Her heart lodged into her throat as panic threatened to grip her.

“Mason!” Her voice cracked wide open on the second syllable.

She had to find her son . . . because she felt certain she couldn’t live through another abduction.

Wren’s eyes raked the underbrush.

Beside her, Nash had gone still.

She almost missed it—she was still scanning the ground and the thickets. Nash wasn’t looking down at all. His head was tipped back, his eyes fixed on something above them.

“There.” He pointed up at an old oak at the property’s edge.

For one suspended second Wren’s stomach dropped before her mind caught up to what she was actually seeing. Something shifting among the branches.

Twenty feet up, wedged into the crook of where two limbs split, sat Mason. One leg dangled loose and dirt streaked down his shirt.

But he was okay. In fact, he was grinning, totally clueless about what he’d put them through.

“I found a good spot to climb up.” His grin widened with pride.

The relief hit Wren so hard her knees buckled. She caught the trunk to keep herself upright.

“Mason, I need you to get down. Now.” Her voice came out wrecked, fury and relief in equal measure.

“I’ll help you.” Nash raised his arms.

Mason climbed down a few branches before leaning into Nash’s arms. Then Nash set the boy on the ground beside Wren.

She threw her arms around him, all her anger gone.

She held him, probably too tight, breathing in the scent of dirt and little boy sweat. She didn’t even care that he squirmed against her embrace. The only thing that mattered was that he was okay.

“You scared me,” Wren murmured into his hair. “You can’t just hide from me like that. Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was climbing.” Mason pulled back, his eyes wide with confusion. “Bo wouldn’t stop barking. I couldn’t hear anything over him. It was annoying.”

She stared at him a moment, unsure what to say. She wanted to be mad, but she was so relieved he was okay.