Page 78 of Weight of Guilt

Wren watched, tears filling her eyes.

How could she question the authenticity of the moment? Why couldn’t she just enjoy it? Instead, she’d been so skeptical. Part of her still felt skeptical, which made shame fill her.

Would she regret this one day?

Finally, a nurse—a blonde in her fifties named Wanda—called one of them over to go over aftercare instructions. Wren volunteered, and Nash went with her. His presence, though he didn’t say a word, offered her a surprising comfort.

Wren listened as the nurse went through everything—keeping the wounds dry, watching for red streaks, coming back in ten days.

“Oh—by the way, somebody stopped by and asked about your brother earlier,” Nurse Wanda said, gathering the pages.

Wren froze, uncertain if she’d heard correctly.

But she knew she had.

Nash heard the nurse’s words and stepped closer, alarm sounding in his head.

“Ma’am.” Nash kept his voice easy. “What exactly did this man ask you?”

Nurse Wanda looked up from the paperwork. “He wanted to know the status of a young man brought in this evening with a hand injury.”

“He used those words?” Wren shifted as if uncomfortable with the conversation.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Near enough.”

“Did he give you a name?” Nash asked. “Say who he was?”

“No, he didn’t. He wasn’t family, so I told him I couldn’t give out any information. He said he’d try back later.”

Nash didn’t like the sound of any of this. “What time did he come in?”

“Probably around half past nine or so.”

Nash shifted his weight and put his forearm on the counter. “Can you describe this man?”

“Ordinary. Maybe in his thirties or forties. Hard to say.” The nurse thought about it. “He had on a jacket and a baseball cap. I’m sorry I can’t give you any more than that. We get a hundred people through here in a night.”

Wren sucked in a breath beside him. “You said a baseball cap?”

Nurse Wanda nodded. “That’s right. But I couldn’t tell you what was on it.”

“What are you thinking?” Nash asked, sensing she had a thought.

Her gaze met his. “Marlowe said she saw Coach Ferris here at the hospital earlier.”

“Tate Ferris? Mason’s soccer coach?”

She nodded. “It’s probably a coincidence, but . . . he does love his baseball caps.”

Nash stored that information away.

He glanced up and saw a security camera.

He knew he didn’t have permission to look at the footage, but he needed to let Luke know ASAP.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine