The slight hesitation as Michael signed “asleep” told Diesel that the woman was either stoned or drunk. How Mrs. Brewer could have gotten wasted so quickly was puzzling. She’d dropped off her son less than two hours ago. She hadn’t seemed impaired at the time, but he’d known enough functional addicts to realize that she could have become adept at hiding a buzz.

“He says he’s sorry,” Joshua supplied. “He thought you were someone else. You look like someone else.”

Someone else who’d had the power to terrify this young man. Another uncle, maybe? Diesel couldn’t be sure, but he was sure that he didn’t want to take these kids back to that home. Not until he was sure they’d be safe.

“He says that my mom is asleep,” Joshua continued. “He tried to wake her up to come get me, but he couldn’t, so he came instead.”

“Okay,” Diesel said aloud, then signed, “Does your mother need a doctor?”

Joshua’s eyes grew wide. “You can sign?” His back had been to Diesel when he’d signed the first time.

“A little,” Diesel answered, both speaking and signing, but his attention was back on Michael. “How did you get here?”

The boy shrugged, wincing as he did so. “Ran.”

It was Diesel’s turn to stare. He knew where the family lived from the address Mrs. Brewer had listed on the registration form. “That’s . . .” He held up his fingers, trying to remember the sign, and finally spelled it. “That’s five miles.”

“Six.” Michael shrugged again, this time with only one shoulder. “I’m fast.”

“He’s a soccer star at his school,” Joshua said proudly.

Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Diesel was still stunned. “How long did it take you?”

“Thirty minutes.”

Which meant he’d probably set off when his mother should have been leaving to drive here. It also meant this kid wasn’t just fast. He was record-setting fast.

Which wasn’t important right now. “Does your mother need a doctor?” he repeated.

Michael stiffened again. “No,” he replied, the sign terse and final. “She is sleeping.” He put emphasis on the final sign, letting Diesel know that the teenager understood what he was really asking.

Diesel rubbed his head, the slightest stubble tickling his palm. He needed to shave again soon. “Okay, Joshua, I don’t sign well enough to say the next stuff, so you’re going to need to interpret, okay?”

Michael poked Joshua with a scowl, and Joshua signed what Diesel had said. Both brothers nodded.

“I can’t let Michael take you home. He’s not on my approved list.” Michael started to protest, but Diesel held up his hand and continued. “I can drive you both home. Mrs. Moody will come with us.”