“Let go of me!” Stephen said, immediately defensive.

J.D. released his grip. “I just don’t want you to run off like your friend.”

“Miles Dean isn’t my friend.”

That was one for the good guys.

“That’s a start. Tell me about Isaac Wells and his car keys.”

“I can’t.” Stephen shook his head and his skin turned the color of chalk.

“Sure you can.”

“Oh, gosh,” Stephen said, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “You—you don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Stephen blinked rapidly. “Miles will kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill anyone.”

“You don’t know him. Or . . . or his dad.”

“Ray Dean?” J.D.’s ears pricked up. “What about him?”

“He’s back in town and he’s . . . mean.”

“Either talk to me or to the police.” J.D. felt sorry for the kid. Obviously he was in big trouble, wedged between the proverbial rock and a hard place, but J.D. couldn’t help him if he didn’t know the truth.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Stephen hesitated. He rubbed one elbow with his other hand and nearly jumped out of his skin when Charcoal galloped out from under the porch. “Oh, God.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

Stephen looked over his shoulder and his eyes were wide with fear. “You don’t understand. If I say anything to you, or to the police . . . they’ll hurt Mom and Chrissie.”

J.D. saw red. “Who?” he demanded. “Who’ll hurt them?”

“No one.” The poor kid’s voice cracked on the lie as he tried to backtrack, but J.D. grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“Listen to me, Stephen. No matter what you’re involved in, no matter what happened, I’m going to help you. You got that?” When the boy didn’t answer, but just looked at the ground, J.D. shook him again. “You got that?”

“Yeah.” Stephen nodded.

“Okay. So what’s going on? Who’s threatening to hurt your mother and sister?”

Stephen swallowed hard. His lips were chalk white. “It’s Miles,” he said. “Miles and his dad.”

“So Ray’s involved.”

“No . . . yes . . . Oh, man . . .” Stephen shoved his hair from his eyes. “He’s . . . he’s been in jail before and he . . . he’s the one who wanted Mr. Wells’s keys.”

“Why?” he asked, turning the information over in his head.

Stephen shook his head. “I dunno. He heard I stole the keys once and drove one of the cars. Miles told him and then Miles dared me to do it again and bring him the car and keys, but I didn’t. I messed up, stole the keys but didn’t get the car and . . . and . . . Well . . . I decided I couldn’t be a part of whatever it was, so I didn’t turn over the keys. I thought I’d get rid of ’em, but then Mr. Wells disappeared and . . .”