Now she reached for the folding chair opposite mine and sat.
“He was staying in a rental near Morehead City,” she said. Her voice had the precise, measured quality she used when discussing things she had already argued about privately a thousand times. “I got the address because he forgot I was still listed on an old family phone account. There was a forwarding contact. I drove over after work.”
Jonah frowned. “You never told me that.”
“I told you I went.”
“You said you found him through Wade.”
“No. I let you assume that.”
Wade looked at the ceiling.
Jonah gave a short, bitter laugh. “Apparently that’s our family profession.”
“Elise,” I said. “Tell me what you saw.”
She rubbed her palms over her knees. “He looked bad.”
My stomach clenched.
“How bad?”
“Thin. Gray.” Her mouth twisted. “But people look bad when they blow up their lives, Mom. People don’t sleep. They don’t eat. I told myself it was stress.”
