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.”

Eric didn’t speak.

“Got that?” Eli prompted.

“Sure,” Eric said. “Do I have to tell her about the text from Freddie?”

“Yes, actually,” Eli answered. “But let’s save that for later, when the both of you are back home.”

Eric’s expression was glum. “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out to twice its normal length. “She’s gonna freak. She’ll probably send me away to boarding school or something. Or ground me again. Carly will probably start dating some other guy and I’ll be SOL.”

Shit out of luck.