Chapter 61
Chapter
Sixty-One
Wren woke on the couch with one arm numb beneath her.
Mason.
She sat up so fast the room tilted.
She’d slept. For almost five hours, she’d slept while her son was missing.
Her stomach churned at the thought.
Wren pushed to her feet and headed for the kitchen. Everyone was already there.
Nora stood at the stove, still in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, scrambling eggs. Marlowe sat at the table in yesterday’s clothes, staring at her phone. Christian sat across from her with a glass of orange juice.
He looked worse than the rest of them.
His skin was pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Mom sat at the table staring at Christian like she still couldn’t believe her eyes. She had very little to say, but her eyes still looked brighter than they had in years.
Nora glanced over. “Hey.”
Wren rubbed a hand over her face. “Why didn’t anybody wake me?”
“Because there wasn’t anything new.” Nora turned off the burner.
She pulled out a chair and sat. “Where’s Nash?”
He’d slept in the recliner last night. This morning, the chair was empty and a blanket folded on the arm.
“He went to take Roy’s receipts to Luke,” Nora said. “He said to let you sleep and give you the message.”
Wren nodded. That sounded like him. But some strange part of her missed having him here.
Nora set a plate in front of her. Wren stared at the eggs but didn’t pick up the fork.
Instead, she glanced at her phone sitting on the counter. There were no calls or messages.
Nothing from Mason. Maybe some foolhardy part of herself had hoped there would be.
She forced herself to take a bite of her breakfast, but the eggs tasted like nothing.
Bo suddenly barked from the living room. Once. Then again.
Marlowe frowned and stood. “Who’s here?”
She went to the front window, then stopped.
“What?” Wren asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me . . .”
Wren was up and at the window to see for herself.
She drew in a sharp breath when she saw two news vans had pulled onto the road. A cameraman was climbing out of one.
Marlowe grabbed the curtain and pulled it closed. “They have a lot of nerve.”
Nora came up behind them. “Are they here about Mason or Christian?”
“How did reporters find out?”
“I don’t know.” Marlowe shook her head. “If it’s Christian, how would they find out?”
“Great question,” Wren said.
Wren’s phone buzzed on the counter. Then again.
She saw an unknown number, and her chest tightened.
Outside, someone called toward the house. “Christian Loveless?”
Wren froze. This was about Christian. Somehow, word had gotten out.
Another voice joined it. “Christian! Can we talk to you?”
And now she and her family had another complication on an already long list.
Nash saw the news vans before he turned into the Lovelesses’s driveway.
He’d just come from the sheriff’s office after dropping off Roy Callahan’s receipt boxes. Luke’s people were already working through them, along with everything else that had come in overnight.
So far, nothing significant had changed.
There had been no sightings of Mason. No vehicle. Nothing.
Nash slowed.
One news van sat along the shoulder of the road. Another had pulled partly into the drive. A cameraman stood in the yard, and a woman with a microphone was headed toward the porch.
Then Nash heard her call Christian’s name.
His grip tightened on the wheel. How had that news gotten out?
He pulled over and climbed from the truck.
The reporter spotted him and changed direction. “Excuse me, sir. Are you a member of the Loveless family?”
Nash kept walking. “No.”
“Can you tell us whether Christian Loveless has returned home?”
He stopped and looked at the cameraman behind her then at the patch of grass beneath their feet. “You’re on private property.”
The reporter’s expression cooled. “We’re covering a story of significant public interest.”
“Cover it from the road.” Nash pointed toward the shoulder.
“We haven’t bothered anyone.”
“You’re standing in their yard with a camera.”
She opened her mouth again to argue.
But another voice cut into the moment. “Nash!”
He turned and saw Marlowe rounding the side of the house, moving fast.
Something in her face made him turn away from the reporter. “What’s going on?”
She paused, breathless. She looked at the reporters and lowered her voice.
“Christian went out the back.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face. “He heard them calling his name and took off. We can’t find him.”
Nash’s stomach dropped. He glanced back at the reporters and saw them watching.
The last thing he wanted was to give them even a breadcrumb about what was going on.
He kept his voice low as he asked, “Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know. That’s why we need your help.”
Nash glanced one more time at the reporters, hating the timing right now.
Then he darted toward the back of the property.