Page 44 of Weight of Guilt

“Today?” Nora repeated, probably just to buy time.

“Yes. I miss them. Please.” Christian pushed his plate away. “I don’t understand why you’re keeping me from them.”

“We’re not trying to keep you from them,” Wren said. “It’s just a delicate situation. They went through a lot.”

“And you’re not sure if I’m really your brother?” There was almost accusation in his gaze.

“I didn’t say that,” Wren quickly told him.

“You have to understand that this is hard for us also,” Nora added.

Marlowe raised her chin. “But I believe you.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe him—” Wren started.

“But you don’t, do you?” Christian turned toward her, hurt in his gaze. “That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Wren opened her mouth, trying to find the words. But none came. She didn’t want to lie.

Her phone rang, and Cody’s name appeared on the screen. Part of her felt relieved for the interruption. “Sorry. I need to take this.”

She hurried down the hall, where she’d be out of earshot.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Hey,” Cody said. “Can I swing by and pick up Mason? Last night was crazy with finding Roy. Then there was a car accident. Anyway, I told them I couldn’t work today. I can be there in about an hour to get Mason, if that works.”

“An hour’s fine.” She glanced back at the kitchen and everyone sitting at the table. “Actually, that’s good. That’s—yeah. That’s good.”

It was better if Mason wasn’t here for all of this. Plus . . . she had questions that had been nagging her. Questions that she didn’t want to sit on any longer.

She’d meant what she said earlier. She was tired of not doing anything and just waiting.

They weren’t going to move forward by doing nothing.

“Perfect,” Cody said. “See you soon.”

She ended the call and stood in the hallway another moment. She listened to the low murmur of conversation in the kitchen, though she couldn’t make out any of the words. Maybe some of the tension had eased. She hoped.

Roy’s death lingered in her mind.

She wanted more answers.

She needed more answers—especially if she was going to sleep at night.

But she didn’t know yet what that meant, only that she couldn’t do it alone—not the asking-around part, at least. She needed someone who knew how to investigate.

In other words, she needed Nash.

Mason had planted himself on the porch steps with Bo, watching the driveway the way he watched the clock before Christmas morning.

“Dad’s coming,” he told the dog as if Bo needed the briefing. “I wish you could come too.”

Wren stood on the front porch behind him, her arms crossed against the afternoon chill. She let herself have one uncomplicated minute of just watching her son wait for his father. It was easier than to think about whatever else the day had in store for her.

Marlowe joined her, and Christian trailed a step behind, his hands in his pockets.

“How much longer till Cody gets here?” Marlowe asked.