“What the hell, Eric? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Exactly the opposite,” Eric replied, dusting the snow off his jacket and pants and grinning like the damn fool he apparently was. “I came to spend the night here. Thought it would be safer for Mom, since Hayley’s at Melba’s and Mr. Summers is there, too.”
“How did you get out here?”
Eric had his driver’s license, but he didn’t own a car. Sara wanted him to get a job and buy one for himself—practical life lesson and all that.
Eli respected her logic, especially after the crap Eric had pulled last year. The kid had made strides, for sure, but that didn’t mean he was out of the woods.
“Carly dropped me off. I’ve been waiting awhile.”
“Your mother thinks you’re at home, tucked up in your little bed. Call her, right now, and let her know where you are.” Eli stomped up the back steps, unlocked the door via the keypad on the porch wall and went inside. “And whatever you do, you idiot, don’t go waltzing in there without announcing yourself when you decide to go back, because Calamity Jane might just blow your dumb ass to kingdom come.”
Eric, so nervous earlier in the evening, was almost cavalier now. “Mom’s a crack shot, all right,” he said, following his uncle into the darkened house.
Eli flipped on the kitchen lights. He knew nobody was lying in wait inside—his dog and his gut, in that order, would have alerted him otherwise—but he was careful anyway.
He was letting Freddie Lansing get to him, and that pissed him right off. He had the upper hand in this situation, as long as he kept his head.
“Did you call Freddie out about that text?” Eric asked. He was crouching alongside Festus now, one arm looped loosely around the dog’s neck, and the cockiness was gone, replaced by uneasiness.
Eli removed his coat, hung it up, took off his service belt and secured his weapon in a gun safe bolted to the kitchen counter. “Yes,” he answered, at length. “Call your mother.”
Sara wouldn’t be asleep, Eli was pretty sure of that. More likely, she was sitting bolt upright in one of the living room chairs, with that Glock resting on her lap.
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Eli would have smiled at the image.
“She’ll be mad,” Eric said. “Because I left without telling her, I mean.”
“Your problem, not mine.” Eli opened the refrigerator, inspected the contents—as usual, he was overdue for a trip to the supermarket—and settled for the last slice of packaged cheese.
Before Eric could reply to that, his cell rang in the pocket of his jacket.
“Crap,” he said, frowning at the screen. “It’s Mom.”
Eli merely grinned, grabbed a can of beer, popped the top and closed the refrigerator door.
“I’m all right,” Eric said, into the phone. “I’m at Eli’s place...yes, I know how worried you are... I’m sorry, okay?”
Sara’s voice came through the phone speaker as an unintelligible hiss, but it didn’t take a linguistics expert to get the general drift. Basically, she was tearing the kid a new one, not so much out of anger as out of fear.
She must have gone to Eric’s room to check on him, say good-night if he was awake, and found it empty. Eli guessed the boy had gone home from Bailey’s with Sara, waited a while, then sneaked out to meet Carly, who must have, in turn, sneaked out to meet him.
The girl would be in Dutch with Cord and Shallie if they’d caught her.
“Okay, yes,” Eric complained, rolling his eyes at Eli to show how put-upon he was, having Sara for a mother. “I know I’m grounded—of course I didn’t hitch, Carly brought me—wait, you won’t tell her mom and dad, right?”
Eli, who had been leaning against one of the kitchen counters, washing that lonely slice of cheese down with beer, set the can aside and extended one hand.
“Eli wants to talk to you,” Eric told his mother, sounding relieved.
“Did you know about this?” Sara demanded.
“Of course I didn’t,” Eli replied reasonably. “Eric was waiting in the yard when I got home. Festus thought he was a burglar and knocked him off his feet. I guess his plan was to lick the kid to death.”
“Sometimes I really hate being a parent,” Sara sighed, having simmered down a little. “I should have been a nun. Or a spinster librarian.”
“Now, Luke,” Eli teased, “I just can’t picture you as either one of those things.”
Sara laughed in spite of herself. “How many times have I asked you not to call me ‘Luke’?”
“Not enough, apparently,” Eli replied. “Go to bed, sis. Get some sleep. I’ll bring the happy wanderer by in the morning. For tonight, he’ll be fine on my couch.”
“I could strangle Eric,” Sara confessed. She sounded exhausted now, and close to tears. “When I went to say good-night and he was gone—”
“I know,” Eli said, his voice gruff and as gentle as he could make it. “We’re all tired. Let’s all call it a day and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“Good idea,” Sara replied, albeit reluctantly.
“And, Sara?”
“What?”
“Put that frigging Glock back in the safe.”
“Not gonna happen, Sheriff. Tonight, it goes into the top drawer of my nightstand.”
Eli closed his eyes for a moment, out of weariness and frustration. Arguing with his sister was like pushing boulders uphill.
“Has anybody ever told you that you are one stubborn human being?” he grumbled, after taking a final swig of beer.
“Runs in the family,” Sara retorted.
Eli unclamped his back molars. “Good night, Sara.”
“Good night,” Sara replied, almost merrily. “And, oh, yeah, happy New Year.”
Eli didn’t reply, and there wouldn’t have been any point in doing so, because his sister had already ended the call.
He handed the phone back to Eric.
“Can I borrow a charger?” the kid asked. “And maybe some sweatpants and a T-shirt to sleep in?”
Eli sighed and shook his head. “In the future, if you’re going to hit the road, you might do a little planning first.”
Eric was standing now, shrugging out of his coat, kicking off his heavy boots. “Yeah,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left Mom alone. I got scared and I sort of freaked out and called Carly to pick me up. I thought you’d be home by the time we got here.”