“What’d you threaten him with?”

“Just that if he didn’t stay away from our kind, we might have to hurt someone of his,” Bryce said matter-of-factly. “We wouldn’t, but we didn’t know what else to do.

We’re not going to kill the guy or keep putting him in the hospital.”

“You think this Yerling guy could’ve done something like that to Leisha Summers?”

I flinched at the name. She was still so cold.

“I don’t know,” Corrigan said lamely.

Bryce shrugged. “I thought he was all talk, but you never know…”

I stood up abruptly and asked harshly, “Are we done? Can I go?”

Sheila studied me a moment and said, “Almost. Where’s the letter now?”

Corrigan pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. “We all touched it. I’m sorry.”

She pulled a glove on and took the letter. After she handed it to one of the other detectives, she asked gently, “Where are your parents, Sheldon?”

“Getting a divorce. You know that,” I spat out.

“Where are they?” she asked again.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Have you talked to them this week?”

“About the divorce. That’s it.”

Sheila nodded and murmured instead, “We talked to your school counselor, Miss Connors. She’s been trying to get you to talk to her. Why don’t you want to talk to her?”

“Would you?” I clipped out.

Sheila didn’t say anything. The other detective commented, “It would be beneficial for all of you to go and speak with your school counselor. Miss Connors has an excellent reputation as a counselor. She offered for all of you to sit together or individually.” He glanced at me and said, “She thinks Sheldon, particularly, would appreciate the group setting versus an individual setting.”

Miss Connors could appreciate all she wanted.

“We contacted her over the phone. She offered to come here, if you’d prefer or you could meet somewhere if you would rather not visit on school grounds.”

“Right now?” Corrigan asked.

“She’s with Miss Summers’ parents right now. She would be available tomorrow or at a later date.”

Leisha’s parents.

“How are they—I mean—how are Leisha’s parent’s doing?” I asked before I knew what I was asking.

Bryce watched me.

Sheila studied me again, she hadn’t stopped. She murmured, “They’re pretty torn up as parents should be.”

The balding detective asked, “You say that Yerling hurt a girl last Friday? Got a name?”

Bryce shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and his biceps twitched.

“No. It was just a rumor, but we wanted to be safe, you know.”

“Okay.” The detective finished his notes and glanced at his two colleagues. “I think we’re done here. We’ll contact you if we have further questions.”

“Please don’t,” I muttered and the cops stopped in surprise.

Bryce and Corrigan looked unfazed.

Sheila spoke, “Look, you’re eighteen. You’re an adult, but I highly recommend that you call your parents, Sheldon. They should know what’s going on with you.”

If they cared, they’d know.

“I don’t think my parents have the time right now. They’re too busy looking for houses and finalizing the divorce,” I said faintly.

A flicker of emotion crossed Sheila’s features, but she didn’t say anything. No one said a thing and then they left.

Corrigan spoke up when we heard the door shut, “Mom’s making breakfast if you guys want something.”

“No more questions,” I said firmly.

Corrigan nodded. “Trust me, I don’t want them either.”

“I could go for some food,” Bryce murmured and it was decided. All three of us traipsed into the kitchen and were met with aromas of pancakes, eggs, toast, coffee, and freshly cut fruit.

Corrigan’s mother smiled warmly at us and gestured to the table. She spoke with a spatula in hand, “Sit, sit. Eat.”

Corrigan’s father brought a cup of coffee over and placed it in front of me. He patted my shoulder and murmured, “Just how you like it, Sheldon.”

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Raimler.”

“No thanks,” Mrs. Raimler said from the stove. “Just eat. And it’s Harve.”

Bryce and Corrigan devoured their food. When I sat there and sipped my coffee, Bryce snorted in disgust and placed a pancake on my plate.

I didn’t move and he said firmly, “Eat.”

I glared and Corrigan and Bryce both snapped, “Eat.”

I ate.

Mr. and Mrs. Raimler chuckled and filled the plates of food again.

When Corrigan and Bryce were on their third helping, Corrigan’s parents sat down and started on their own breakfast.

Mrs. Raimler cleared her throat as she patted the curlers in her hair. She commented, “Bryce, your mother called here. She was very worried, but don’t fret. We told her you were here. You and Corrigan were upset about some news of a classmate. She agreed with me that it was best for you to stay with your friends.”

Bryce and Corrigan. No mention of me. Thank god.

Bryce met my eyes in shared amusement and relief. If AnnaBelle Scout knew of my presence, she would’ve dragged Bryce back to her home, never to be seen again.

I shuddered at the thought.

“Sheldon, honey, I’ll ready one of the guest bedrooms for you. Harve can drive you over to your house if you’d like to grab some clothes and toiletries.”

Bryce spoke up, “Uh…I’ll take her later. That’s okay.” He glanced at Corrigan and I knew both of them weren’t planning on letting me out of their sight.

“Bryce, you can sleep in the other guest bedroom downstairs.”

Corrigan hid a smile.

The Raimler household had guest bedrooms all over their home. There were a few on the bedroom floor. A few on the main floor. And two downstairs. We were both downstairs, right next door to each other.

I didn’t think it was by chance we had rooms beside each other.

“Thank you, Mrs. Raimler.”

“Oh—it’s Katrice, Bryce. Get it right next time.” She smiled warmly and patiently.