Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
PRESENT DAY
Nash left Wren and her sisters clustered around Mason in the yard. He crossed the grass and headed back toward the tree line, Tank at his heels.
Maybe it was nothing, but he wanted to check out the woods again. His gut told him he needed to, and he’d learned to trust his gut.
The trees surrounding this side of his property were thicker than his own—which meant they offered more places to hide. Nash moved through the underbrush and rhododendrons, his eyes tracking the ground.
He searched the places someone might have stood if they’d wanted a clear line of sight to the Lovelesses’s yard without being seen.
Because if Christian truly had escaped an abduction, that meant someone—his abductor—might be looking for him. This person might even be keeping an eye on this house.
And if the perp was keeping an eye on the house, he—or she—might see not only Christian but Mason.
His thoughts only contained theories and worst-case scenarios, but Nash would feel better if he could see things for himself.
Tank worked ahead of him, his nose down and his tail still.
As the dog paused near a giant oak, Nash crouched beside him.
Three fallen branches near the trunk had been snapped clean. The breaks looked pale and fresh against the weathered bark around them . . . which meant the breaks were recent.
And this tree would offer the perfect vantage point to see the Lovelesses’s house. To see Christian. To see Mason and Wren.
His shoulder muscles tightened.
This wasn’t the kind of damage a storm left.
These breaks happened under the pressure of an unfamiliar weight . . . like that of a person standing there. Not Mason either. He wasn’t heavy enough.
Nash studied the ground around the branches. There were no clear footprints. The leaf litter was too thick and dry to hold a shape. But there was a flattened patch of undergrowth just beside the oak.
He turned the sight over in his mind.
The branches could mean nothing. Susanna had warned him that hikers cut through here sometimes. Most days, broken branches and flattened grass were the forest’s version of background noise.
It could also mean Christian really had stumbled through the woods, and that he’d caught onto branches in the process.
Or it could mean someone had been standing at this exact spot recently, watching this exact house.
Nash didn’t like that he couldn’t rule out any of those theories. He liked less that all three explanations left him with the same next move.
He straightened and paused.
He wasn’t sure if he should alarm the sisters by telling them what he’d found. But he didn’t feel right keeping it from them either.
Wren lifted her head as she spotted Nash heading back toward her.
She and her sisters stood huddled together, and Mason had his arms around her waist. Christian stood on the porch as if afraid to get too close.
His hair was wet as if he’d showered, and he wore some sweats and a T-shirt Wren thought might have belonged to their father.
“Who’s he?” Mason nodded at Christian.
“He’s . . .” How did she even answer? She’d told Mason before that she had a brother, but he wasn’t around anymore. She hadn’t been sure how much more his seven-year-old brain could handle. She’d told herself she’d tell Mason the whole story one day.
That day hadn’t come yet.
Before she could find her words, Mason peeled away from Wren and made a beeline across the yard toward the porch. The boy had never met a stranger—a fact that terrified her.
Probably because Christian had once been the same way.
“Mason—” Wren started.
But he was already gone.
Christian straightened, visibly tensing as Mason approached.
Mason stopped a few feet short of Christian, head tipped back to take in the whole of him. “Who are you?”
“Mason.” Wren raced across the yard.
“It’s fine.” Christian’s eyes hadn’t left Mason. Something moved behind them, there and gone too quickly for Wren to name it. He leaned over, bringing himself level with the boy instead of towering over him. “I’m your uncle. Christian.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “You’re Uncle Christian? But I thought . . .”
Christian offered a half smile. “I know.”
Part of Wren felt relieved she didn’t have to hear the explanation, that they’d chosen to cut it off when they did.
“I climbed really high up a tree.” Mason announced it like a credential, his chin lifting with pride despite their panic. “Everybody was really scared, but I found a good spot.”
“I heard.” The corner of Christian’s mouth moved, not quite a smile. “You know, I used to like climbing trees when I was about your age.”
Mason’s whole face opened up. “Really? Could you go all the way to the top?”
“Higher than I was supposed to.” Christian glanced past him, toward the oak at the property’s edge. “Your mom used to yell at me to get down the same way she probably yelled at you.”
Mason nodded solemnly as if they’d just discovered they belonged to the same secret club. “I’ve always wanted an uncle. Are you gonna live here now?”
Christian’s jaw visibly tightened. “I don’t know yet.”
“You should,” Mason said. “Then you could watch me climb it again sometime. I bet I could go higher.”
“I bet you could.” Christian’s voice became garbled. “I’d like that.”
Mason grinned. Then his attention snagged on Bo as the dog trotted past toward the porch steps. He took off after the dog, already shouting something about showing Christian his soccer ball sometime.
Christian remained on the porch, and something passed over his face. Grief over the childhood he’d lost maybe? Longing to go back in time?
He straightened slowly and caught her watching. “He’s a good kid.”
“He is.” Wren studied her brother’s face, filing the moment away. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Christian looked back toward the spot where Mason had disappeared around the barn, Bo’s bark trailing after him. “He just—” He shook his head, didn’t finish it. “He reminds me of someone.”
Wren didn’t ask who. She thought she already knew the answer.
Nash listened to the entire exchange between Wren and Christian, emotion roiling inside him even though he had no connection to these people. The whole situation was still heartbreaking, however.
He’d joined their circle with Tank and had waited for the conversation to finish.
Wren turned toward him and studied him a moment before asking, “Why did you go into the woods just now?”
He shrugged. “I just wanted to take a look around.”
Nora’s razor-sharp gaze pinned him down. “Did you find anything?”
“I found some broken branches. Newly broken.” He kept his voice level, not trying to stir anything up. “Could be nothing.”
“Or . . . ?” Wren prodded.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully. “Or it could mean someone was out there watching the house. I can’t tell you which.”
Wren touched her forehead as if fighting panic. “You think someone was out there watching us?”
“I’m not assuming anything. I’m just observing.”
Nora’s arms crossed tighter. “I don’t like the sound of that. Should we call the police?”
“That’s your decision. But I think I don’t like coincidences, and this family’s had two big ones today already.” Nash held her gaze. “I’m not saying panic. I’m saying be careful.”
“Careful how?” Nora asked. “What does that actually look like? Because I don’t know how to be careful about something I can’t see.”
Nash didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know how to.
His hesitation seemed to trigger something in Wren.
“Come inside. I’d rather have a plan than a warning.” She was already turning back toward the house. “There’s sweet tea, if you want it.”
“I should get back.” The words came automatically.
Don’t get too close. That had been his mantra when he moved here.
Right now, he felt like he was failing.
His gaze caught Christian watching from the porch. The teen’s eyes burned holes into Nash. Then the boy’s gaze flicked to Wren before settling back on Nash.
Christian was measuring something, but Nash didn’t know what.
But that only made him curious. Nothing about this situation was ordinary. As a detective, he’d never seen someone missing return after being gone ten years. There was so much to uncover here—good and bad.
And the investigative side of him wanted to help.
In fact, he’d been craving something to do with his time off.
Despite his hesitation, he nodded. “Actually, sweet tea sounds good.”