Eli couldn’t help wondering if Eric’s comment meant he felt trapped himself. Just in case there was some truth to that implication, he added, “Another thing we’ll request is a psychiatric assessment and likely a therapist. Your friends will be facing the same procedures.”

Sara nodded. “Yes! He needs help and I can’t do it!”

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.” He turned back to Eric. “Anyone else involved, besides the guys in the pictures? And don’t bother trying to protect any of ’em.”

Eric shook his head. “Just them.”

“All right. I’ll be making a few other visits tonight. Now, here are the rules. You do not leave this house. You will give your mother your keys. I’ll keep your cell phone. You will not communicate with anyone unless or until I give you permission. And you will apologize to Lindsey and Carly—by written letter, which you will pass to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes…”

“I’ll see if I can take tomorrow off,” Sara said in a tremulous voice.

“You shouldn’t have to, Sara. But it’s up to you.” He walked to the front door. “I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

Then he left, after giving his sister another hug. Eric ignored him. Eli felt only compassion for Sara—and even greater fury toward Eric and his piece-of-shit father.

Nothing more he could do here tonight. Time to make a few other visits…

CARLY GOT UP Saturday morning, feeling both relieved—because Eli was taking care of the Eric Worthless mess—and excited. She and Tina were going over to Meg Simon’s house so Carly could meet her and the cats.

She dressed quickly, choosing another Susan T-shirt (she sure owned a lot!). This one appropriately proclaiming that “I Love Cats and They Love Me,” with the sweetest photo of a young woman surrounded by tabbies and Persians and a Siamese.

As soon as she got to the kitchen, Mitch poured her a coffee with exactly the right amount of cream, then returned to his crossword puzzle book. Thanking him with a smile, she took an invigorating sip. Tina walked in then and said she was making scrambled eggs and toast.

“Thanks, Tina, but let me help.”

“No, no. This won’t take long. Why don’t you help Mitch with his puzzle instead?”

“If I can…”

He moved the book in her direction. “This one’s all about popular music. That should be right up your alley. Now, who sang ‘One Too Many Mornings’?”

“Mitch! It’s Bob Dylan, of course.”

“Hey, just funning. I knew that. How about ‘Hallelujah’?”

“It’s a Leonard Cohen song! Probably his best known.” She began to hum the first lines.