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 or a parked car. “Mom said Melba’s ex is spending the night.”
Eli sighed, relieved. Melba’s ex, Daniel, was a former navy SEAL. He’d done a hitch with the FBI, too, and now he was doing private security for some billionaire headquartered in Belize. If Dan Summers was in the house, those kids were as safe as they could be.
“That’s good,” he said. So much for hanging around Brynne’s place for the rest of his dinner break. He’d swing by Melba’s, say hello to Dan, fill him in on the situation—if indeed there was a situation—then he’d head out to the Lansing place, on the far side of town, for a word with Freddie’s parents and, if possible, with Freddie himself.
Beyond that, there wasn’t much he could do, legally. The text definitely constituted a threat, but there was no proof Freddie had sent it—he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the marquee, but he was probably smart enough to use a burner phone, if only to keep his present location on the down-low. Furthermore, unless Freddie actually made a move to harm either Eric or Hayley, he couldn’t be arrested.
The kid came from a family of assholes, but they were assholes with connections, and Freddie’s uncle was a retired lawyer, of the scum-ball variety.
Given that Eli had been the one to arrest Freddie, as well as Eric and the others, he’d have to handle this new development very carefully. The Lansings had cried foul when Eric and the other idiots who’d danced to Freddie’s tune were let off with probation, fines and community service. The difference was, Freddie had an impressive rap sheet for a teenager, and that summer’s crime spree didn’t qualify as his first rodeo.
In fact, if he hadn’t been six months shy of his eighteenth birthday, he probably would have ended up doing hard time.
“He’ll know I told you about the text,” Eric reiterated.
“Yeah, even Freddie is probably smart enough to make that particular leap.” Eli squeezed the boy’s shoulder once more, then dropped his hand to his side. “I’ll handle this. You go back inside and enjoy the evening. And stay inside, where there are plenty of people around. Have your mother call or text me when she’s ready to head on home, and I’ll provide a police escort.”