Again, Brynne felt a niggle of unease. Of course she locked the doors when the restaurant was closed, but she’d never had cause to feel afraid, either in Bailey’s or anywhere else in town.

She nodded, locked the door behind Eli and turned to survey the happy wreckage left behind by visiting celebrants.

The chafing dishes on the buffet table were mostly empty and covered by their lids, but some of the flames beneath them were still flickering.

Brynne extinguished the tiny fires quickly, then hurried upstairs to her apartment.

Waldo was curled up in an armchair in the living room, and he was plainly disgruntled when Brynne scooped him up, carried him into her bedroom, installed him on the window seat and dashed for the door, shutting it swiftly behind her.

Waldo meowed loudly in protest.

Ignoring her furry friend, Brynne went back to the stairway, and descended as far as the landing, where there were two sets of steps, one leading to the restaurant’s kitchen and one to the outside door.

Brynne opened the latter, braced herself against the rush of cold air and the sight of Eli waiting on the small porch with his dog.

“Come in.” It seemed deliciously clandestine, admitting Eli to her home under cover of darkness.

He hesitated, looking down at Festus, who panted cheerfully at his side, barely able to restrain his canine glee at encountering Brynne.

She bent to ruffle the dog’s ears in greeting.

They entered, and Eli stopped to turn the dead bolt before following Brynne up the well-worn stairs.

Festus slipped around her and scuttled to the top, where he turned to watch the humans approach.

“I want to know what’s going on,” Brynne announced, the moment they were all in her living room. “I know it has something to do with your nephew. He’s a nice kid and I’m worried.”

Eli sighed, looking around. “Nice place,” he said.

“Thanks,” Brynne replied. “But don’t dodge the issue. What’s happening?”

“Sit down,” Eli said, gesturing toward the nearest chair. “Please.”

Once Brynne was seated, he took a seat on the edge of the couch, laced his fingers together and studied the floor.

Festus trotted down the hallway toward Brynne’s closed door, and Waldo raged from within.

Some welcome.

“All right, I’m sitting. Tell me, Eli.”

He told her.

He explained the trouble Eric and a few other kids had gotten themselves into the previous summer—she remembered the incidents, since the Creek was a small community and Eric’s mother, Sara, was a friend—then he mentioned the text.

Finally, he described his visit to the Lansing place, earlier that night.

“You think Freddie or his father would actually hurt Eric—or Festus?” Brynne asked, horrified.

“Yes,” Eli said bluntly.

“Can’t you arrest them or something?” She was a little frantic, grasping at straws.