Chapter 59
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
Wren climbed into Nash’s truck.
The cab smelled faintly of dog and old coffee. A spiral notebook sat on the dash, and a leash was coiled on the floorboard by her feet. She nudged it aside as Nash started the engine.
He pulled onto the road.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Wren stared out the windshield, but all she could see was Mason’s yellow backpack. The pickle-flavored sunflower seeds. That man standing at the register buying food her son would actually eat.
She pressed her palms against her thighs. “Why does it feel like none of the pieces will ever connect?”
“Because that’s how investigations work.” Nash rested one hand higher on the wheel. “You collect the pieces before you know what picture they make.”
“I think Roy is one of those pieces.”
“You may be right.”
Wren looked at her hands in her lap. “I keep thinking about Paige. If Roy was hiding something, maybe she saw it without knowing what she was seeing.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe he said something that didn’t make sense at the time.”
Nash nodded. “That’s why we’re going to talk to her.”
She studied his profile for a moment. “You really didn’t have to come.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “We’ve covered this.”
Despite everything, something almost like a laugh caught in her throat.
Almost.
She looked back out the windshield. “I don’t know. Maybe we should have stayed with the others at the store in case—”
“Wren.” Nash’s expression sobered. “The search isn’t stopping because you left.”
“I know.” Wren rubbed her thumb along the edge of her phone. “But if they find something, and I’m not there—”
“They’ll call.”
“And if Mason comes back?”
Nash glanced at her.
The words had come out before she could stop them.
Wren looked away. If Mason comes back. As if he might simply walk through the school doors and ask why everyone was making such a fuss.
“Nora and Marlowe are at the school waiting.” Nash’s voice softened. “Then we turn around.”
She nodded. Right. Her sisters would be there.
She only wished she could be multiple places at one time. She didn’t know where she needed to be—only that she wanted to be there for Mason.
A few minutes later, Nash slowed and nodded through the windshield. “We’re here. Let’s talk to Paige.”
Nash had his hand raised to knock when the porch light came on.
Paige opened the door in a housecoat, one hand still on the knob. The television murmured somewhere behind her, and every light down the hall was on.
Her face changed when she saw Wren.
“I heard about Mason.” Paige’s voice softened. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
Wren swallowed, realizing how strange it might seem for them to show up now with Mason missing. “Thank you. We . . . we wanted to see how you were doing also. I . . . I guess I just need to keep my mind occupied.”
Paige pushed the storm door open wider with her hip. “Come in. Both of you.”
The kitchen looked more crowded than it had on Sunday. Grocery bags sat on the counter beside paper plates and plastic forks. The legal pad from before had migrated to the end of the table beneath a stack of mail, and somebody had added suit and flowers to the list.
“Sit.” Paige reached for the coffeepot. “I’ve had coffee going since eight this morning, and I don’t know why I keep making more. I guess it’s just giving me something to do.”
“I’ll take some.” Nash pulled out a chair.
Wren stayed on her feet.
Her gaze landed on a grocery bag half-unpacked on the counter. She reached inside, took out a box of crackers, and set it in the pantry.
Paige turned. “Honey, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Wren grabbed a jar of peanut butter next and set it on the shelf, unsure if it even belonged there. “I just need to do something.”
Paige watched her a second, then seemed to understand. She lowered herself into the chair across from Nash.
He wrapped both hands around the coffee mug but didn’t drink. “Paige, I’m sorry to show up this late, but I’d like to go back and review Roy’s trips in more detail.”
Her brows drew together. “Are you talking about the gas receipts?”
“Yes. You told us your uncle has been making those drives for months. But you only moved in this spring.”
Paige leaned back. “That’s right.”
“So a couple of months is only what you personally saw.”
She thought about his statement, then nodded. “I suppose it is.”
“Did Roy keep receipts anywhere besides the truck?” Nash asked.
Paige gave a tired little laugh. “That man kept everything pertaining to that truck.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Hold on.”
She disappeared down the hall.
Wren finished putting away the groceries while Nash waited.
A minute later, Paige came back carrying a shoebox and set it on the table.
The lid bowed upward from everything packed inside.
“He kept this in a closet in his room.” She nudged it toward Nash. “There are two more just like it.”
Nash took off the lid. Receipts filled the box, packed upright and tight together.
He worked out a stack and squared it against his palm. They were all gas receipts from the same station.
He checked the dates, then pulled another handful from deeper in the box.
Wren glanced over from the counter. “Can I ask you something?”
Paige looked at her. “Anything.”
Wren hesitated, one hand still resting on the grocery bag. “Did Roy ever talk about Christian after he disappeared?”
Paige’s face changed. “Not much. But sometimes I’d come over and find him in that chair with the television off. Just sitting there, looking like a haunted man.”
Wren stayed quiet.
Paige rubbed her thumb along the edge of the table. “I always figured he was thinking about something he didn’t want to talk about.”
Wren’s throat tightened. “Maybe he was.”
Nash kept working through the receipts as they talked. He’d expected them to go back six years. That was when Roy had supposedly started hauling extra gas for Faye.
But the dates kept going.
Seven years.
Eight.
Nine.
The paper near the bottom had gone soft with age, the print faded enough that he had to angle each receipt beneath the kitchen light.
Then he stopped.
Ten years.
He checked the date again.
September.
Nash laid the receipt flat on the table.
Wren immediately noticed. “What?”
He kept his eyes on the paper. “Roy bought gas at that station going back ten years.”
The room seemed to quiet around them.
That meant . . . Roy had been driving that road four years before he ever started visiting Faye.
Which meant the extra gas had started long before her.
Nash looked at Paige. “I’d like to take these.”
She waved toward the box. “Take all three if they’ll help. I need to start clearing that room out anyway.”
“You’ve got somebody helping you with that?” Wren asked.
“A couple of cousins are coming to help.” Paige gathered the mail off the legal pad and squared the stack against the table.
Wren nodded. “I’m glad somebody’s coming.”
“So am I.” Paige let out a breath.
Nash put the lid back on the shoebox and stood.
At the door, Paige caught Wren’s hand. “They’re going to find him.”
Wren’s eyes filled, but she held Paige’s gaze.
“They have to.” Paige squeezed her hand once before letting go.