Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
It was almost one in the morning when Wren and her family—and Nash—returned to the house.
Nash insisted on checking everything out first, and no one argued with him.
As he did, the six of them waited in the driveway.
All six of them, in one place, the way the family used to fill a pew, Wren mused.
The moment felt surreal. Wren had dreamed about a day like this, but she hadn’t ever really believed it would come. At least, she hadn’t believed it in many, many years.
For a moment, she thought if she pinched herself she might wake up and realize she’d dreamed all of this.
But she knew she hadn’t.
This was as real as it gets.
Finally, Nash stepped outside and gave them a nod. “It’s clear.”
Visible relief flooded each of them.
As people began to file inside, he stopped Wren. “I’d like to stay tonight. But I can sleep outside. I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“Don’t be silly. You can stay inside. We’ll find room.”
“You sure?” His gaze met hers.
“I’m positive.”
“Okay then. Thank you.” He nodded toward his place. “I need to go check on Tank. But I’ll be back.”
“Sounds good.”
She joined everyone inside and immediately noticed the awkwardness in the air. It wasn’t surprising, however. No one gave you a manual on what to do when a kidnapped family member returned. They were all winging it here and doing their best.
Wren’s dad shifted in the foyer as if unsure of himself. “There’s a motel in town. I’ll stay there tonight and come out first thing.”
Nobody asked him to stay. There wasn’t room for him and Nash.
Wren supposed she could have offered her dad her cabin. She didn’t, though she didn’t know why.
Maybe . . . maybe it was because so much had happened at once. She just needed a little space to let her thoughts breathe.
Nash returned and Dad left, and everyone began to sort themselves out. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and Christian had one of them. Wren’s mother settled her things in the guest room. Marlowe put her bag in Nora’s room so they could share.
That left the living room.
Nash nodded toward a chair. “I’ll take the recliner. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
“Then I’ll take the couch.”
No one made a move to go to bed yet, however.
Christian sat at the kitchen table with a Coke, and everyone gathered around him.
Their mother stood at the counter, close enough to touch Christian, which she’d been doing every few minutes since the hospital. Right now, she reached over and put her hand on the back of his neck. He let her.
“You’re going to wear a hole in me,” he muttered.
Marlowe laughed, though the sound came out ragged. “That’s the first funny thing anybody’s said in this kitchen in ten years.”
Marlowe was exaggerating, but Wren laughed also.
She let herself watch everyone a second.
Her mother and her sisters and her brother, all in one kitchen.
Not everybody was here. Her dad was headed to a motel, and Mason was asleep at Cody’s.
But it was closer than they’d come in ten years to feeling like a family, and it was the very thing she’d asked God for in every prayer for so many years.
Nash had gone into the living room without being asked, which she noticed and appreciated.
“I keep waiting for it to feel normal.” The serious tone of Christian’s voice broke any of the levity of only a few seconds earlier.
Wren wanted to ask questions. She wanted to ask if anyone else was being held where he’d been taken, and what his captor fed him, and—well, anything. She just wanted something.
“Did you . . . did you remember anything else?” Wren held her breath as she waited for his response.
“Nothing.” He took a sip of his soda. “Sometimes . . . sometimes a feeling shows up without the memory attached to it. I try to understand it, but I can’t.”
Wren tried not to react.
“You’ll get there.” Nora squeezed his shoulder. “Give it time.”
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, the FBI would be here.
Then they’d have one more step of this process behind them.
After everyone went to bed, Wren turned off the light over the stove and headed toward the couch.
It hit her that she didn’t have any clothes or toiletries over here. Everything she owned sat in a cabin a hundred feet out the back door. She could sleep in her jeans or ask her sister to borrow something. But that seemed silly when her own clothes were so close.
She glanced at Nash in the recliner. “I need to run out to my cabin to get a few things.”
He sat upright and slipped on his boots. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to. I know you’re tired.”
He picked his phone up off the arm of the chair and stood. “You didn’t ask. But I’m coming anyway.”
Wren didn’t argue. She knew it would be useless and a poor use of her limited energy.
Bo lifted his head and sent her a questioning look as they passed him.
“Stay,” Wren told him.
He lowered his head. If dogs could frown, Bo would be frowning right now.
However, she didn’t want him barking and waking the whole house.
Outside, she and Nash crossed silently toward her cabin. Every few steps, Nash scanned the woods, the barn, and the road.
“Key.” He held out his hand.
Wren fished it out of her pocket and passed it to Nash.
He climbed the steps ahead of her, and Wren waited as Nash unlocked and pushed the door open. He reached around the frame and found the switch. A second later, the front room flooded with light.
“Wait here,” he instructed.
Wren stayed on the porch and wrapped her arms over her chest.
The light from the front room reached maybe four feet across the porch. Past that was the yard. Past the yard, the barn. Past the barn, nothing she could see at all.
The cicadas were singing out there, loud as they’d been all week.
Then they suddenly quit.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. Why had they stopped? Had something in the woods caused it? Or was her imagination working overtime?
They started back up a few seconds later.
Wren released the breath she held. But the uneasy feeling didn’t leave her.
Suddenly, being out here seemed like a bad idea.
She glanced back inside. Nash had opened another door.
He’d have to open all of them. She kept every door in that cabin shut. It was habit, she supposed.
It couldn’t hurt just to step inside the front door. Out here, she felt so exposed, like unseen eyes were watching her.
With one last glance at the woods, she stepped inside. She blew out a breath, already feeling safer.
But the moment didn’t last long.
She glanced beside her at the closet door.
It was slightly ajar.
Nash hadn’t touched it. She’d watched him as he went inside.
And she always shut that door.
Her mouth went dry as she stared at it. “Nash . . .”
Before she could say more, the shadows inside the closet shifted.
Someone was in there, she realized.
As soon as the thought hit her, the shadow—a man—rushed out.
He shoved past her, and she teetered backward.
Her hip hit the floor first. Then her elbow.
The man darted outside, but left a terrible truth behind.
Someone had been inside her cabin.