“Maybe I can talk to him,” Wren said quietly. “Please. Otherwise, I feel like I’ve betrayed his confidence.”
“It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing.”
“No,” she said half to herself as she looked at Evan’s face on the screen, then back down at the photo on the table. “He looks so happy there. Must have been before the bills.” She clenched her fist. “It’s not right. He shouldn’t be going through this alone.”
She looked back up at Elias, fierce determination in her eyes. “Yeah. Let me talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to let his friends back into his life. Go ahead and let everyone know he’s found and he’s in a safe place. But maybe you could also explain the situation? Tell them to give me a chance to warm him up to the idea?”
“Of course, baby.” He paused. “What do you think he’ll say?”
“Well, he is going public in the article. So, I think there’s a part of him who wants to be found, whether he admits it or not. I’ll approach him that way. Speak to that part of him.”
Up until that moment, Elias didn’t think he could love or have more admiration for Wren. But seeing her look so determined made his heart overflow. He was only beginning to know her, and everything he learned made him love her more. His woman was strong, with a big heart.
If anyone can reach Evan, it’s her.
“You’ll convince him,” Elias told Wren.
She stood and crossed the room until she was standing right in front of him.
“You believe in me.”
He took her hands. “I do. Always.”
SEVENTEEN
An hour later, Wren and Elias stood outside the Y.
“I’ll wait for you down here,” Elias told her as he leaned against the concrete planter. He’d insisted on coming with her and he’d put off calling Gabe until she’d had a chance to talk to Evan.
Wren rolled her neck, trying to loosen up the tense muscles in her back. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’ve got this.” He kissed her and opened the door for her.
Wren approached the front desk, relieved that the same receptionist from the other day was on.
“Hi, Carrie,” she said smiling, which got the woman’s attention. “Do you remember me from the other day? I‘m the photographer. Wren Stapleton.”
“Of course,” Carrie said, brightening. “How can I help you? Did you leave something here?”
“No, but I’d like to talk to Evan if he’s in? Just a follow-up to the story.”
“He is. He came down for his mail about an hour ago and went back upstairs. Let me call up to his room.” She picked up aphone receiver, dialed his number, then covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “He’s such a sweetie.”
Wren beamed. “He really is.”
Carrie uncovered the mouthpiece. “Hello, Evan? It’s Carrie downstairs. You have a visitor, Wren Stapleton the photographer.” She paused. “She’s here for,” Carried looked at Wren, “a follow-up to the story.”
Wren nodded, still smiling, while her nerves turned her stomach into a bowling ball, hoping that Evan would invite her up to talk.
“Shall I send her up to your room?” Another pause.
He’s telling her no.
“All right, I’ll let her know.” Carrie hung up the phone.
Maybe I can wait for him in the parking lot. Like a stakeout. I bet Elias knows how to do those, but of course I’ve seen enough TV shows that?—
Carrie held out a lanyard with a card on it. “He’s in number twelve, third floor. It’ll be on the left toward the end of the hall. You’ll need this for the elevator, and I need to sign you in.”
