Page 88 of Weight of Guilt

As Nash watched everything play out, tension spread through his shoulders.

He’d known from the start that this house held secrets. He just wasn’t sure what kind. But now he wondered if they went even deeper than he ever expected.

Luke narrowed his eyes. “What’s a treaty box?”

Marlowe finally looked up, something haggard in her gaze. “Christian and I watched a pirate movie once that mentioned them. We decided to make our own and bury it—just him and me. We made a promise not to tell anyone else what we were doing.”

“But what is it?” Nora asked.

“It’s where you put your treasure,” Marlowe said. “Christian and I didn’t have much treasure, of course. So we put in some pictures we’d drawn, Christian’s favorite marble, and some fake gold coins someone gave us. Things like that.”

“I can’t believe we’ve never heard about this,” Wren said.

“We buried it probably six months before he disappeared.” Marlowe’s voice cracked with emotion. “I remembered it, but I just left it there. I thought that maybe one day I would dig it back up, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to do it.”

Nash glanced into the hole. If what Marlowe was saying was true . . . then this guy must really be Christian.

“Except . . .” Marlowe squinted. “It wasn’t buried right there. It was about twelve feet to the left.”

“We’ll see what we can find.” Luke put his hands on his hips. “Mrs. Loveless, let’s get Christian inside where it’s warm. All three of you go with him. I have some follow-up questions for Nash and Wren.”

“What about the box?” Marlowe glanced at the hole.

“We’ll retrieve it.”

Marlowe nodded, clearly hesitant to leave.

“I’ll look at Christian’s hand,” Nora said. “I’ve got everything I need inside.”

Mom, Christian, Nora, and Marlowe all started toward the house, and a moment later, the screen door slammed shut behind them.

Luke waited until the kitchen light came on before he turned to Nash and Wren. “There was someone in your house?”

Wren nodded and told him what happened.

Luke scowled when she finished. “I don’t like the sound of that. I’ll see if we can find any prints. Nothing was taken?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Not yet, at least.”

Luke slowly nodded. “Okay. I’ll look into that, and I want to talk more about this treaty box. Right now, I’ve got some news. I was going to sit on it until morning. But you’re both standing here, so . . .”

“Is this about Roy?” Nash’s pulse ticked faster.

They could use some answers right now.

“It’s about Roy. A woman came into my office and asked to speak to the detective working Roy Callahan’s death.”

Wren’s eyes widened. “Who was she?”

“Her name is Faye Loudermilk. She’s sixty-one and lives off Route 9 about eight miles.” Luke looked at Wren then Nash. “She and Roy have been seeing each other going on six years.”

“What?” Wren’s voice came out breathless.

“That’s what she said. Said there’s no power on the property. Roy came out every Thursday, brought her gas for the generator, ate lunch, and drove home.”

Wren ran those facts through her mind and the picture that had already formed there. This new information didn’t match.

“You believe her?” Nash asked.