Page 6 of Weight of Guilt

“Can I help you?” Nora’s voice sounded even and professional, like the tone she might use when dealing with one of her patients.

The stranger studied the three of them, still not speaking.

“Who are you?” Nora pressed.

He continued to stare at them.

Just when Wren was certain he wouldn’t answer, he shifted.

“It’s me,” he finally said, his voice strained and cracking. “Christian. I . . . I found you.”

Chapter

Three

No one moved. But Wren’s thoughts raced as the man-child’s words echoed in her head.

It’s me. Christian. I found you.

Her chest tightened.

No, this isn’t . . .

He can’t be . . .

You’re imagining things . . .

The doubts looped in Wren’s head, none willing to finish itself. Christian reappearing the exact day he disappeared ten years ago? This couldn’t be happening . . .

“That’s not funny.” Nora’s voice sounded shrill, stripped of its earlier calm. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

“No, of course not. I . . . I don’t know what to tell you.” The man-boy took a lumbering step forward. “I need help. I’m confused. Please. Don’t turn me away.”

Wren’s chest tightened at his desperation, and she couldn’t get a full breath.

This had to be a sick joke.

But what if it wasn’t? He sounded . . . scared. And sincere. And . . . like Christian.

Maybe? She didn’t know what Christian would sound like today.

He had the hair. Dark brown, almost black in this light. And the eyes were blue, though twenty-five percent of people had blue eyes.

She made herself look at the rest of him. He was thin. Too thin, the way boys got when they shot up faster than they filled out. His ears sat out from his head a little, and she’d teased Christian about that once, back when it was the kind of thing you could tease a person about.

The nose was wrong. Or it wasn’t. Seven-year-olds didn’t have noses yet, not really. Hers hadn’t settled until high school.

That was the problem with every part of him. Nothing ruled him out.

And nothing proved a thing.

Suddenly, nothing made sense.

“If you’re really Christian, where have you been?” Nora’s voice had gone flat.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”