Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Christian stepped inside last, trailing everyone else as they gathered in the living room.
Wren realized he didn’t know who Nash was other than a neighbor. She hadn’t introduced them yet.
“Christian, this is Nash,” Wren explained.
Mason had already lost interest in the conversation, and he grabbed some Legos from the shelf and settled by the coffee table. He had a stash of toys here for whenever he visited. He was safely in view of every adult in the room—just what Wren wanted.
She took some mason jar glasses from the cabinet while Nora picked up the tea pitcher.
Tank had come inside with them—Nash had asked if it was okay first. Now Bo bounced in circles around him, desperate to play. Tank wanted nothing to do with him and let out a low growl.
Finally, Bo backed off, tail dropping, and slunk to the other side of the room.
Christian paused near the table but said nothing. He only stared at Nash as if unsure whether or not he could trust the man.
Wren couldn’t blame him.
“Nice to meet you,” Nash told him, his voice easy.
She had no doubt he’d learned to deal with situations like this as a law enforcement officer.
Christian only stared back at him, and Wren didn’t push. Manners were the least of their concerns right now. Besides, she had no idea what her brother had been through. For all she knew, he could have been kept in nearly feral conditions.
Christian held Nash’s gaze a beat too long, long enough that Wren felt the air in the kitchen pull tight.
“Tea.” Nora filled the glasses at the table, as if the sweet drink might dissolve the tension through sheer force of hospitality.
They all sat.
Christian stared at his glass without touching it. “I don’t—” He stopped, shook his head. “Do you have anything else to drink?”
“We’ve got soda,” Nora said. “Coke, I think.”
Something eased in Christian’s face. “You have Coke?”
Wren’s heart went into her throat. He almost sounded like a little boy asking the question.
Maybe he was still a little boy in a man’s body.
Nora set a can, dewy from the fridge, in front of him and popped the top.
“I used to love Coke,” Christian murmured. “I remember that.”
Wren went still.
He’d remembered something. Something had come back.
Maybe more would.
“Do you remember anything else?” She tried not to sound too eager. “Now that you’ve slept?”
He didn’t think about her question long. He just shook his head. “No, nothing.”
He hadn’t even tried. He’d answered before she finished asking.
The table went quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.
Christian turned the can slowly between his hands. His gaze drifted to Marlowe and held there, something unspoken passing between them—the ghost of two kids who used to be inseparable. Marlowe’s face went pale, her stare fixed somewhere past the table, somewhere none of them could follow.
She’d always sensed that her younger sister carried more guilt than the rest of them. But Marlowe had never told them why.
Wren had wanted to ask, but she didn’t. In all these years, she hadn’t.
Should she ask now?
Before she could consider it too long, Wren’s phone rang.
Wren stood and pressed the phone tight to her ear. She turned toward the window, putting her back to the table. “Cody, slow down. What happened?”
“It’s Roy.” Cody paused. “Wren, he’s dead.”
Her breath caught. “Uncle Roy? What happened?”
“The body on the trail—the one I thought was a hiker. It wasn’t. It was Roy.” He paused, radio chatter in the background. “I can’t get into details. Not over the phone.”
“Cody . . .” Her thoughts continued to race, nearly falling over each other as she processed the news.
Uncle Roy hadn’t been her actual uncle. But that’s what they’d all called him.
He’d handled promotions for her and her sisters when they’d traveled to perform, and he and her father had once been close.
Over the years, they hadn’t seen him as much. But in some ways, he still felt like family.
“There’s an active scene here,” Cody continued. “Investigators are already talking about it like it’s more than natural causes.” He blew out a breath. “That’s all I can say.”
Behind her, the refrigerator hummed. Nobody at the table spoke, but she felt everyone listening to her half of the conversation.
“Thanks for telling me,” Wren finally said.
“I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else. But I gotta go. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Wren.”
Cody had known how much Uncle Roy had meant to her at one time.
The line went dead before she could ask anything else.
Wren lowered the phone and stared at her lockscreen—a photo of her and Mason after a hike last year. Her mind snagged on the timing of Uncle Roy’s death.
The same day Christian walked out of the woods, Uncle Roy was dead . . . possibly murdered.
Her blood went cold.
She turned. Everyone was waiting for an explanation.
“That was Cody.” She set the phone on the counter, working to keep her voice even. “He just wanted to let me know that Roy passed away.”
Nora’s hand went still on her glass. “Roy? Our Roy Callahan?”
“Yes, our Roy,” Wren said.
“Today?” Marlowe set her fork down. “Christian comes back today, and Roy dies today?”
“Yeah, I can’t believe it.” Her gaze went to Christian, curious to see his expression.
He didn’t seem to recognize the name. That was good. She didn’t want to throw anything else on him. He was already dealing with so much.
But she couldn’t help but wonder if this was all connected.