Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
The doctor was a small woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a beaded chain.
Her gaze stopped on Nora and lit with recognition. “Nora Loveless. I didn’t know you were here.”
Nora had worked at this hospital, so the two must know each other, Wren mused.
“Dr. Hardin.” Nora rose and stepped closer. “Christian is my brother.”
Something moved across the woman’s face. “I saw the last name and wondered.”
“Is he okay?” Marlowe asked, rising to her feet also.
Dr. Hardin looked at the clipboard, then at the three of them, and she frowned. “Sit down. All of you.”
They did as she asked.
“He needed nine stitches. It was a clean laceration, with no tendon involvement, and he’s going to have full use of that hand.” She pulled her glasses down. “He got lucky. People put their fists through glass all the time, and it goes worse than this.”
“And his head?” Nora asked. “Did you check it? I told them at the front desk that he was having memory issues.”
“CT’s clean. No bleed, no fracture, no acute injury. I’ve got no imaging explanation for the memory gaps. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one. It means it’s not on my scan.”
Marlowe’s shoulders slumped.
Dr. Hardin turned the clipboard face down on her knee. “I know some of the situation, and there was something that surprised me.”
Wren’s stomach tightened. “What’s that?”
“He’s not malnourished,” she announced.
“What do you mean?” Nora rushed.
“I mean, he’s thin, yes. And he’s dehydrated, so we have him on an IV, and he’s got the vitamin D of a man who doesn’t get outside much.
” She said the words evenly. “But his weight is normal for his height. His teeth have been cared for. I found one old fracture in his left forearm that healed clean and straight. Clean and straight means somebody set it.”
“Somebody took him to a doctor.” Nora squinted in confusion.
“I didn’t say that. I said somebody set it. That could be a doctor or it could be a person who knew how.” Dr. Hardin shrugged. “What I can tell you is that whatever happened to that young man, he wasn’t starved or beaten.”
Wren’s mouth went dry.
She’d formed a story in her mind over the past two days. She’d been forming it, if she was honest, for ten years—a picture of a dark room, a rusty chain, a boy going hungry.
She’d hated the image, but she’d carried it anyway. She’d never once considered the other possibility.
Somebody had taken care of Christian.
“That’s good,” Marlowe said, small creases of uncertainty at the corners of her eyes. “Isn’t that good?”
Nobody answered her.
“There’s one more thing.” Dr. Hardin looked at Nora. “I asked him for a DNA sample.”
“And?” Nora asked.
The doctor frowned. “He said no. Twice. Then I told him that it would protect him as much as anybody.” She paused. “He finally agreed to let me do it about ten minutes ago. The sample is logged and will go out in the morning.”
“Why would he say no?” Marlowe asked, her voice almost breathless, as if his reaction was a betrayal.
“He’s seventeen, and he’s been through a lot. I’ve had grown men refuse a blood pressure cuff. I wouldn’t think about it too much.” Dr. Hardin stood. “He’s resting. Give him twenty minutes and you can go back.”
When she’d gone, the three of them sat in that corner without looking at each other.
“Don’t,” Marlowe said. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” Wren said. “And I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Marlowe—we’re on the same side. Don’t forget that.”
Her sister said nothing.
“Now is when we call Mom and Dad,” Nora said. “I suggest starting with Mom first.”
Wren turned toward her. “You want to make the call?”
“I can. But you’ve always been her favorite. Maybe it should be you.”
“I’m not her favorite . . .”
“I’m too bossy, and Marlowe is too strong-willed. You know how to handle her the best.”
“Okay then.” Wren walked to the window at the end of the row and pulled out her phone.
Her mother answered on the second ring.
“Wren?” She sounded startled. “Is everything all right?”
“Mama.” Wren pressed her hands against the window frame. “I need you to come to Sevierville. To the hospital.”
“The hospital?”
“Mason’s fine. He’s with Cody. Everyone is fine.”
“Then what?”
Wren closed her eyes.
She’d promised Luke not to say this on the phone. “I can’t tell you like this. I need to tell you in person.”
“Wren Elizabeth.” Her mother’s voice had gone still. “You’re scaring me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t do well with this. You know I don’t do well with this.” Her mother’s breath came uneven over the line. “Just tell me nobody’s hurt.”
Wren’s hand came up over her mouth. “No one is hurt. Not really, at least. We’ll be fine.”
Her mother didn’t say anything a moment. Then, “I’m on my way.”
Nash left his truck at the pull-off and got in Luke’s SUV. They’d gone maybe two miles before Luke asked, “So what’s in Sevierville?”
“Christian.” Nash watched the guardrail run past. “He put his hand through a storm door about six o’clock this evening.”
Luke’s eyes widened. “On purpose?”
“He was upset. He reacted. He didn’t want to go to a doctor. Wren and her sisters told him he was going anyway. Now he’s at the hospital.”
“I hate to hear that.”
The road narrowed and started to climb. Luke’s headlights swung across a mailbox with no house behind it.
“I called Roy’s work this afternoon,” Luke said. “Thursdays were his day off. Have been for years.”
Nash turned that over. “Paige didn’t mention that.”
“She probably didn’t know. I have a feeling Roy wanted to keep that a secret.”
“How long is years?”
“That’s the part I called you about.” Luke slowed for a curve he clearly knew was coming.
“Sales manager said Roy set his schedule that way his first month on the floor and never moved it. Not for a holiday weekend. Not for the tent sale in April, which the man brought up twice like it still aggravated him.”
“When did Roy start there?”
“Fall of the year Christian went missing.”
Nash sat with that a moment. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but how could he not? What secret was Roy keeping?
Ten minutes later Luke’s headlights swept across the pumps.
The station sat alone where the road crossed a creek, one pole light over two pumps and a cinder-block building with a hand-lettered sign about live bait. A single truck was parked around the side.
Inside, the man behind the counter was somewhere past sixty and heavyset, with reading glasses shoved up on his head and a crossword folded under his elbow. His name tag read EARL.
Luke introduced them before showing him a photo of Roy.
Earl brought the glasses down to get a better look. “That’s Roy.”
Luke’s eyebrows flew up. “You knew him.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Earl tapped the counter with one finger. “I mean, he came around regularly.”
“When did you see him last?” Luke asked.
“Thursday. Friday, maybe.” The corners of Earl’s mouth pulled down. “I heard what happened. Real sorry about that.”
“How often did he come by here?” Luke asked.
“Every week.” Earl shrugged. “He’d fill up, get a coffee, tell me about his aches and pains.”
“When he left here, which way did he turn out of the lot?”
“Left. Always left.” Earl took the glasses back off. “Ain’t nothing up that way. I asked him about it one time.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he had someone he checked on.” Earl thought about it a second. “That’s all of it.”