Page 97 of Weight of Guilt

“So he would do something like that.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Because Jacob was right. Cody—the man who’d wanted nothing to do with his son for years—was now playing dirty. At least, that’s how it felt.

Wren leaned the broom against the wall. “You sound experienced.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Unfortunately, I am. I know two attorneys in Sevierville who work family law. I can pass along their names to you if you’d like.”

Her throat tightened. She hated the thought, but . . . “It’s probably not a bad idea.”

He wrote two names on the back of a business card and left it face-up on the counter next to the sandwich.

“Eat that.” He nodded toward the bag. “Nora will ask me.”

“Thanks for the food—and the advice.”

“Anytime.”

Nash had been in Luke’s SUV ten minutes when the road turned to gravel, then into two ruts with rebellious grass rising in the middle.

Luke dropped the SUV into low gear. “No one has cleared this in a long time.”

“No, they haven’t.”

The ruts stopped at a chain-link gate hanging off one hinge. Past it, a house stood. From the SUV, Nash could see a tin roof and cinder-block piers.

Even from this distance, it looked like a place that had given up.

Luke put the SUV in Park at the gate. “Stay behind me.”

“Will do.”

They climbed out and walked toward the house.

Closer up, Nash could see the porch had rotted through on the left side, and two planks had been laid across a hole there.

Luke pushed the front door with two fingers, and it swung open—unlocked. “Sheriff’s department!”

There was no response.

Luke and Nash stopped just inside. The dust on the wood floor lay undisturbed except for a single line of tracks running straight from the front door to the back. Nothing branched off.

No one had moved through this place to sit down or to open a cabinet. The only thing they’d done was pass through.

He and Luke followed the trail out the back door.

The yard had gone to brush, but a path cut through it, worn to bare dirt by enough trips that the ground had given up growing anything there. The path ran forty feet to a low mound with two wooden doors set into it at an angle.

The padlock on the root cellar hasp was open.

And worse—it was new.

Chapter

Fifty

Luke radioed his position.

Then he turned to Nash. “Let’s see what’s down here.”