a little worried. “Eli? Can I talk to you for a second?”
Eli was concerned, but he was also relieved. A distraction would give him time to get his act together before he encountered Brynne directly.
“Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”
Eric glanced around, clearly reluctant to talk in the midst of a crowd. Whatever was bothering him, it was important—at least, to the boy.
“Mind if we go outside?”
Eli slapped his nephew lightly on one shoulder. “It’s cold out there,” he said, with a grin he hoped was reassuring, “but okay. Let’s go.”
Eric nodded. “I’ll get my coat,” he said. “Carly’s got it, over at the band’s table.”
“Make it snappy,” Eli urged, watching Brynne now.
And she was watching him. Looking a bit worried.
Eli moved his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug and gave Brynne what his niece and nephew called an IDK look. Sara had had to explain to him that IDK was text-speak for “I don’t know.”
Kids. They were changing the freaking language with their acronyms and invented words. Pretty soon, plain old everyday English would be reduced to things like WTF—Eli rather liked that one, actually—and 4EVR and, of course, the ever-popular OMG.
Brynne smiled, and it was a soft, barely perceptible smile that somehow seemed scandalously private, even in that packed, noisy restaurant.
Eli’s blood threatened to catch fire.
Shit, he thought. Maybe it was a good thing he was going to be standing in the cold for a few minutes. Next best thing to an icy shower.
Eric returned, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his ski coat, clutching his phone in one hand.
He scanned the room nervously, and then Eli opened the door for him and they went outside.
The wind bit into Eli’s neck, and he raised his jacket collar against it.
Folks passed them by, coming and going.
Eric, still jumpy, indicated the corner of the building, where there was no foot traffic.
Eli was pretty worried himself by then.
“Eric,” he said, “talk to me.”
Eric thrust the phone at him. “I got this text about half an hour ago,” the boy said. His eyes were huge in his pale face.
Eli took the phone, glanced at the screen.
I’m back, and you’re going to pay for how things went down last summer, you little crap-stain. Go crying to your uncle and you don’t even want to know what I’ll do to you, or to that pretty little sister of yours.
Eli looked up from the screen. Two minutes before, he’d had Brynne on his mind and not much else. Now he was in uncle-mode, big-time.
“Freddie Lansing?” he asked.
Eric swallowed visibly and nodded. “I can’t prove it’s him,” he mumbled miserably. “But who else could it be? I’m not the most popular kid in school, but I don’t have any enemies. At least, not that I know of.”
Eli figured the boy was right.
And he was obviously scared shitless.
The Lansing kid was a bully, a thief and a real contender for a long stretch in prison, if he didn’t either get himself killed or have himself a genuine come-to-Jesus moment. The previous summer, when Eric had gotten himself into trouble with the law—and make no mistake, he was responsible for his own actions and choices, no matter how young he was—he’d gotten most of his ideas from Freddie.
Freddie had gone away to stay with relatives on the other side of the state, after he and Eric and the others were arrested. Clearly, he was back in town, and the knowledge had gotten past Eli somehow.
“I’ll talk to him,” Eli said. “Tonight.”
Eric looked almost frantic. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “You saw what he said about bringing this to you!”
For the second time that night, Eli rested a hand on Eric’s shoulder.
The kid was trembling.
“Listen to me, Eric. You did the right thing, telling me. And you know I’ll do whatever I can to keep you and Hayley safe.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Eric fretted.
“Where’s Hayley tonight?” Eli asked. He thought he recalled Sara saying something about a sleepover, but there hadn’t been any specific information.
“She’s at Melba’s house,” Eric answered. “Hayley is tight with her daughter, Jill. There’s a slumber party or something.”
Melba Summers was working tonight, on the lookout for drunk drivers and highway accidents. The state patrol, efficient as they were, always needed extra help on booze-saturated holidays like New Year’s Eve.
“The kids are alone there?” he asked. “At Melba’s place, I mean?”
“No,” Eric replied, his gaze jittering from here to there, as though he expected Freddie Lansing to jump out at him from behind a bush