Page 47 of Weight of Guilt

Wren stayed in the driveway until they disappeared.

Marlowe stepped back outside and came to stand beside her. “You’re thinking about something. I just don’t know what.”

“Cody’s got Mason for a few hours,” Wren murmured. “I want to use that time to see what I can find out about Roy’s death. I can’t just sit here and wait on other people to update me.”

“That sounds risky.” Nora frowned as if she didn’t like the idea.

“I’ll be smart about it. In fact, I don’t plan on doing this alone.” With that thought, she started across the yard toward Nash’s place.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Nash read back through his own notes on Voss before he finally set the notebook down on the porch rail and let Tank’s head rest heavy against his knee.

He was still turning all the details over in his mind when a figure appeared between the trees.

Wren.

His breath caught. Part of him hoped he might see her today.

For investigative reasons, of course. There was nothing personal about this—and there couldn’t be.

“Everything okay?” He kept his voice level even as his pulse climbed.

“Everyone’s fine.” Wren stepped toward him, a pensive look on her face. “I need to ask you something.”

His shoulders tightened as he wondered where this was going. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I want to find out more about Roy’s death. I know the police are investigating, and I don’t want to get in their way. I just need some answers, and I don’t want to wait for an official report.”

“Is that right?” He knew the response was lame, but he needed to buy himself some time before giving her a definitive response.

“I don’t know how to do this the right way,” Wren continued. “I don’t know who to talk to or what questions matter or what’s going to make things worse instead of better. But you do. You used to do exactly this for a living.”

As her words settled, he realized what a bad idea this would be. If there was a killer out there, Wren could get herself seriously hurt. It was too risky. “Wren⁠—”

“I know what I’m asking.” She held his gaze. “I’m asking you to help me. Not do it for me. With me.”

Nash studied her and saw all the emotions that had come with this request—as well as the courage it had taken her to ask for his help. This hadn’t been easy for her. But everything was riding on the answers she might find.

He would do the same thing in her situation—and at least she was asking for help.

“Okay.” He offered one simple nod.

Her shoulders came down an inch. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded again.

Finally, she nodded as if reeling with surprise. “Okay. Great. I . . . I know Roy’s niece, Paige. She’s an acquaintance. I thought we could start with her. She lives about fifteen minutes away.”

“Let’s do that then.” He stood. “But you should know going in—once we start pulling on strings, we don’t get to decide how far it unravels.”

Wren held his gaze. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Wren sat in Nash’s truck outside Roy Callahan’s house with a bouquet of carnations sweating through its plastic sleeve in her lap.

She’d made a couple of calls and had learned that Paige moved into her uncle’s house a few months ago to help him out after his diabetes got bad.