Sign the Papers Mr. Langford novel Chapter 362

"What did you see?"

Wren gazed at the battered sign hanging over the depot entrance.

"I saw that someone was absolutely terrified of what I might find."

A heavy exhale came through the receiver.

"Wren, I'm warning you to drop this right now."

"Too late."

"Your mother's situation isn't as simple as you think!"

"Then explain it clearly."

Quentin went silent.

Wren heard the faint clink of a glass against a table on his end, as if someone beside him was cautioning him to keep his mouth shut.

After a moment, his voice turned ice-cold.

"If you keep digging, you'll only destroy your mother's peace after death."

That sentence finally struck a nerve.

She gripped her phone, her knuckles turning bone-white.

Phoebe looked at her with concern, taking a step closer.

Wren didn't lose control.

Instead, she let out a bitter laugh.

"You stole her desk, you hid her research, you emptied out the storage unit, and you left her photo rotting in the dirt. And you have the nerve to lecture me about her peace, Dad?"

Quentin said nothing.

"My mother hasn't been at peace all these years, and it's not because of my digging."

Wren tilted her head back, staring at the rapidly darkening sky.

"It's because you owe her an explanation."

She hung up.

Phoebe handed her a bottle of water.

"Let's go. Time to get back to work."

Wren accepted the bottle with a quiet hum of agreement.

As their car pulled out of Channing Road, a white sedan idled inconspicuously by the curb.

The person inside raised a phone, capturing a side profile of Wren getting into her car, as well as the thick file folder clutched in Phoebe's hands.

The photo was instantly sent to Willow Whitaker's phone.

Sitting in her bedroom on the second floor of the Whitaker Estate, Willow zoomed in on the image and stared at it for a long time.

Her assistant followed up with a text: *They took an evidence bag. It looks like there's a photograph inside.*

Willow's heart raced erratically as she zeroed in on the word "photograph."

She immediately spun around and headed downstairs.

In the living room, Lydia Whitaker was pacing nervously, desperate for news. Quentin stood by the window smoking, a long trail of ash teetering precariously on his cigarette, entirely forgotten.

Willow shoved her screen toward them.

"She found something."

She walked over and knelt before him.

"I found a photograph."

Leo's eyes widened.

"A photo of my grandmother?"

"Yes."

"Is she pretty?"

Gazing into the boy's pure, innocent eyes, the agonizing tension Wren had held back all day finally welled up in her throat.

She nodded.

"She's beautiful."

Leo thought for a moment before offering her his blue marker.

"Then you can draw my grandmother in the secret base too."

Wren took the pen from his small hand.

The plastic barrel was still warm from the heat of his palm.

She leaned over and sketched a tiny frame in the corner of the paper.

She didn't draw a face inside.

She simply wrote out a name.

Vivian Vance.