“I’d like to share more with you, but I can’t. Not yet. I just need you to trust me and to know that I have your son’s best interests at heart.”
“Trust,” he grunted. “You sound just like the police. You must be working with them.”
“I am.”
“Then why not let them handle it?”
“They are on their end,” I said. “And I am on mine.”
Silence stretched between us until Tilly broke it. “What do you want from us?”
“For now,” I said, “I’m asking you not to tell anyone Logan has returned and is staying with me. Not friends. Not family. Not even neighbors.”
“You’re asking a mother to lie.”
“I’m asking a mother to protect her son.”
The comment seemed to strike a nerve.
“Fine,” she said. “For now. But I want him to check in with me—daily.”
“I will relay your message.”
Vaughn stood, drinking down the last of his soda and then tossing the can at the trash can.
He missed.
“What assurances can you give us that our son is safe?” Vaughn asked.
“We have security, and I’m not talking about video surveillance. Actual security.”
“Why?”
“My husband is involved in a line of work that requires it. All you need to know is that our house is the safest place Logan can be right now.”
Tilly let out a frustrated sigh. “If he’s staying with you, I’m guessing he’s going to need some clothes.”
“He does.”
She moved past me toward the hallway, and Vaughn stepped closer, aiming a finger at me. “I want you to find who did this, and for it to all be over.”
“I’m working on it.”
Tilly returned with a duffel bag a couple of minutes later and shoved it into my hands.
“Tell him,” she said, voice tight, “to call his parents.”
“I will.”
“And tell him that we love him.”
I slung the bag over my shoulder and walked to the car feeling the conversation had gone as well as it could have gone.
As I sat in the driver’s seat, I checked my phone.
A text from Whitlock waited.
We’re heading to the cabin. They’ve started digging.
