Page 56 of Weight of Guilt

“Probably.” Wren’s throat tightened. “But we have to get this over with.”

Marlowe quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I need a minute.”

She went out the back door. Through the window over the sink Wren watched her stop at the bottom of the steps with her arms wrapped around herself, facing the woods, not moving.

Her heart squeezed with grief. She wished she could do something to help. But they were all hurting right now and trying to deal with this the best way they could.

“She’ll come around.” Nora squeezed Wren’s arm.

Wren hoped that was true.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Wren’s fight with Marlowe still replayed in her mind as she and Nash headed into town. She knew she’d be thinking about it for a while.

She pulled her thoughts back to the present. She had more immediate things to deal with.

“It’s Sunday,” she murmured. “Luke might not even be at the office.”

“You know him well enough to try somewhere else?”

She did. “Turn left up here. He’s probably at home with his family.”

Nash took the turn. “Before we get there . . . how much are you going to tell him?”

She didn’t hesitate before saying, “Everything.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s a big word.”

“I know.” She turned toward him. “But if Christian’s my brother, the truth won’t cost him anything. And if he isn’t⁠—”

She left the rest of the sentence unspoken. But they both knew what she’d been trying to say. If Christian wasn’t her brother, then they needed to figure out who he was and why he was scamming them.

The road climbed. Through a break in the trees, the town’s trademark lake showed gray and foggy. Then the glimpse was gone again.

Nash’s phone rang through the truck’s speakers.

He glanced at the screen on his dash. “That’s Paige.”

Paige? Why would she be calling?

He answered.

“Is this—?” The woman on the other line sucked in a breath. “Is this the man who was here? With Wren?”

“Yes, Nash Hendricks. Wren’s with me. You’re on the speaker in my truck.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Listen, I don’t know if this is anything.”

Wren didn’t like the sound of that . . .

Something had happened, hadn’t it?

“Tell me anyway,” Nash told her.

“After you left, a man came to the house. I thought he was from the funeral home. Someone called earlier, asking me something about a suit for the funeral.”