Page 75 of Weight of Guilt

Marlowe held out the bag. “You want these? I don’t even know why I bought them.”

Wren shook her head and let it go.

She only hoped Tate didn’t hear about Christian and tell anyone.

A little after ten, Nash texted Wren and asked to meet in the cafeteria so they could grab some food and talk privately. She excused herself.

Four people were scattered throughout the space, each appearing solemn. Wren carried some soup to a table by the window, and Nash sat across from her with a sandwich and chips. He’d insisted on paying, and she hadn’t had the energy to argue.

“Well?” Wren started, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had he discovered? It must be something important if he’d asked her to meet privately.

Nash blew out a breath before starting. “The man at that gas station knew Roy. He said he came out every week for years. Filled his tank, plus two gas cans, and he bought two sandwiches.”

“Two?”

He nodded. “We found that interesting. He also turned left out of the lot every time.”

She furrowed her brow. “What’s to the left of the station?”

“Nothing much.” Nash picked up his sandwich. “There’s more. Roy told him once he had someone he liked to check on out that way.”

Wren set her spoon down. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Luke’s pulling property records for everything out along that road,” Nash continued. “He’ll have something in a day or two.”

Wren frowned. “Roy may not have taken Christian himself, but he knew something.”

“I agree. The FBI will be here tomorrow. Maybe they can tell us more. It will be more manpower and resources, at least.”

Neither of them said anything as they ate. Wren’s soup had no flavor, but she forced herself to keep eating.

“How are you dealing with all of this?” Nash studied her a moment. “Not the superficial version you’ve been handing everybody else all day. How are you really doing?”

She opened her mouth, about to give him a generic response on autopilot. Then she rethought her reply. Nash was here, and he was a good listener. And she could probably use a listening ear. Besides, he’d asked for a real answer.

“I . . . I don’t know, to be honest. I keep waiting to feel some kind of explosion of emotions, but I haven’t yet. In the meantime, I just keep moving to the next thing that needs doing. One foot in front of the other.”

“That’s how these things work. The feelings usually come later, often at the most inopportune time.”

“That’s comforting.” She let out a breath and frowned. But she knew his words were true. Grief and trauma were strange beasts, nearly impossible to control and direct.

“It’s honest.” He shrugged. “Comforting is above my pay grade right now.”

“I can appreciate your honesty. Truly.”

A few more seconds passed.

“Where’s Mason?” Nash finally asked before taking the last bite of his sandwich. “He’s not here at the hospital, right?”

“He’s with his dad.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s his dad like? Were you married?”

Wren pushed her paper bowl away. “No, we never married. I went through a rebellious phase, and as a result became a teen mom. Cody definitely didn’t want to be a dad, so I told him I’d do it without him. But a few years ago, something changed, and he got his act together.”

“I’m glad he finally came around. I’m sure balancing everything as a single mom has to be complicated.”

“It is. But Cody’s a good father to Mason now. That’s the most important thing.”