Marlowe
Grant arrived at the house minutes later, breathless from riding hard once Bear had radioed him the news, and the sight of his parents' overturned kitchen sent him crashing to his knees beside the broken glass, all his earlier fear about his father's guilt collapsing instantly into raw, desperate worry instead.
"This is my fault," he said, voice cracking. "If I hadn't told you all where to find him, if I'd just handled it privately somehow—"
"This isn't your fault," I said, crouching beside him despite everything still unresolved between us. "Whoever did this was already circling him, Grant. You didn't cause this. You just helped us understand it was happening before it got even worse."
He didn't look fully convinced, but he nodded anyway, wiping at his eyes with the back of on
