Page 85 of Weight of Guilt

He started down the slope toward her cabin, and she didn’t know whether to hide or if she should run toward him.

Wren’s heart slammed into her chest as she waited for the figure’s features to emerge.

Halfway down, the man turned his head, and the porch light caught his face.

Nash.

Relief swept through her.

She had the door open before he reached the porch.

“You’re supposed to be locked in.” Nash hurried up the steps.

She stepped back to let him in and shut the door behind him. “Did you see him?”

“No.” He put a hand on the back of the chair and leaned on it. “I got maybe a hundred yards downslope and lost him.”

“Luke’s on his way,” she said finally. “He should be here in a few minutes.”

“And your sisters?”

“I didn’t call them.”

Nash narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“I know what you told me,” she explained. “But if I wake that house up, my mother will be standing in this room in about ninety seconds. I’d rather not upset her again.”

He looked at her a moment longer. “All right.”

She stared at him. “That’s it? All right?” She’d been expecting an argument, but he hadn’t given her one.

“You thought it through. That’s all I ever ask anybody to do.” He straightened. “I want to walk the outside of the cabin before Luke⁠—”

He stopped. Looked past her.

His gaze latched onto something in the distance.

Wren followed his gaze.

Through the side window.

Near the corner of the barn, something moved.

Nash’s arm came across in front of her. “Get back from the window.”

“But—”

“Wren.”

She stepped back and continued to watch until the shape resolved.

The figure was kneeling and working the ground with both hands, scooping and throwing, scooping and throwing. A low dark mound of dirt rose beside him.

The porch light caught the white of a bandage on his right hand.

“Nash.” Wren’s voice didn’t sound like her own. “That’s Christian.”

Chapter