her expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I guess it just hit me,” Kendra said. “If Retta was that upset because we went off fishing without telling her, my parents must be really crazed by now.”
Molly nodded slowly. “I imagine they are. Does that mean you want to go home? Or at least call them?”
Kendra immediately shook her head. “No. Can’t that cop call them and tell ’em I’m okay? Or Daniel? He could do it,” she said, clearly warming to that idea.
“Ask him. That can be one of the things we discuss as soon as I get everybody something to drink,” Molly said. She glanced at the booth where Daniel and Joe were clearly arguing, though trying hard not to raise their voices.
She put three cups of coffee and some hot chocolate on a tray, then carried it to the booth, Kendra trailing along behind.
“Okay, fellows, here you go,” she said, setting the coffee in front of them. She glanced at Daniel. “It’s still Retta’s. Nice and strong, just the way you liked it.”
Joe took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “Better than what I had in here the other day,” he said, then regarded her apologetically. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Molly said, resolving to get Retta to give her lessons in making coffee to suit impossible men.
As she slid into the booth next to Kendra, the girl sat up a little straighter and regarded Joe without flinching.
“I want you to call my parents,” she said.
Daniel choked on a sip of coffee, and Joe looked startled.
“That’s it? You’re ready to go home?” Joe asked.
Kendra shook her head. “No. And I don’t want them to know where I am, either. I just don’t want them worrying about me. Tell them I’m fine.”
Daniel gave her an understanding look. “That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said. “But it’s not that simple. If we let them know we’ve been in contact with you, then we’re also obligated to take you home.”
Her eyes widened. “But you said…” She frowned at Joe. “And you, too. You said I’d get to have a say in what happened.”
Joe nodded. “Which is why I’m not calling anybody until we’ve heard your side of the story. Now’s your chance to get everything out in the open, Kendra. Why did you run away from home? What did your parents do that was so awful?”
Molly gave her hand a squeeze, but Kendra just sat there, biting on her lower lip.
“Did they hit you?” Joe asked.
“No,” she said at once.
“Punish you?”
“Not really.”
“What then?” Joe prodded. “Is there a boy in the picture, someone they don’t think you ought to see?”
Clearly, he was running through a litany of the usual reasons a teen might run away. Kendra maintained that none of them were the reason she’d left home.
“Kendra,” Daniel prodded. “Stop stalling. Tell Joe what you told me.”
“They’re sending me away,” she said, her voice catching. She looked imploringly at Molly. “Please, don’t make me go back. I don’t want them to send me away.”
Molly glanced at Daniel, praying that he would signal her what the right response would be, but his gaze was on Joe.
“Where are they sending you, Kendra? I don’t understand,” Joe said, his tone gentle.
When she remained stubbornly silent, Joe turned to Molly. “Do you know?”
Molly shook her head. “She refuses to say another word.”
Daniel regarded Joe with confusion. “I thought you were going to talk to her parents about this. What did they have to say?”
“I tried to talk to them, but they said going away couldn’t possibly be the problem, that Kendra had agreed to all the plans.”
Kendra said, her voice climbing, “They decided. They never asked me! They don’t want me at home, so why should I go back there when I could stay with somebody who does want me?” She turned to Molly. “It’s okay if I stay here forever, right? You want me.”
“Honey, I’d let you stay here in a heartbeat, but it’s not that simple,” Molly said.
“Please, you’ve got to let me stay,” Kendra pleaded. “I could help here, the way I have been, and I can go to school. I won’t be any trouble.”
Molly’s heart was breaking at Kendra’s increasing agitation. It was so plain that she didn’t want to be sent back to her family, but at the same time she cared enough about them not to want them to worry about her. None of it was making a bit of sense, not that thirteen-year-olds were known for the depths of their logic. Too many hormones and