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Ashley made a break for it, his bare feet slapping the boards as he escaped.
North squinted at Auggie. “What product do you use in your hair, Short Round?”
“Uh.”
“It’s his eyes,” Shaw said. “They’re starting to go.”
“Do you want to try that again?” Theo asked. “Maybe call him Auggie instead of a nickname that’s borderline racist?”
But North’s smirk just got bigger. “Daddy wants to play.”
“Ignore them,” John-Henry called from the next room. “North’s being an asshole because he’s bored.”
“Language,” Emery shouted as he scooped goldfish out of the lunchbox. “Am I the only one in this fucking house who remembers there are fucking children here, for fuck’s sake?”
“Come on,” Auggie said, catching Theo’s arm and leading him into the living room. Theo, of course, kept his gaze on North until they’d left the kitchen.
To judge by the volume, Colt and Ashley and the girls were upstairs. Colt roared, “Because I’m a monster and I’m going to eat you,” and Ashley shouted, “Come on, come on, in here,” and Evie and Lana squealed with delight. Jem perched on the arm of Tean’s chair, combing fingers through his hair while Tean tried to read, and John-Henry was flipping channels on the TV.
“Thank you again,” Auggie said.
“No problem,” John-Henry said. “Pick her up whenever you want.”
“Not whenever you want,” Emery said from the kitchen. “It’s a fucking school night, which I already had to fight with Colt about. Fucking back-to-school party. Fuck me. One more fucking excuse to get tanked in a fucking cornfield.”
“Ten o’clock curfew, Peewee,” North called to them. “Actually, make that nine.”
Theo’s expression flattened.
“Leave it,” Auggie whispered.
“Oh, hey, before I forget.” John-Henry dropped the remote on the sofa. “A girl named Shaniyah came to the station. She dropped your names, wanted to interview me about a boy who’d gone missing.”
“Wait, really? Is it—do you think it’s related?”
The question brought a stillness broken only by the buzz of the TV. A week ago, the eight of them had found themselves drawn into the hunt for a killer. In the process, they had discovered a criminal organization operating in the region. One branch of their operations seemed to include theft or robbery, and they had found, among the stolen jewelry and IDs, a class ring from Wahredua High School.
“I don’t know,” John-Henry said. “That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
Auggie glanced at Theo.
“She’s one of my students,” Theo said. “Shaniyah. She’s going into her senior year, and she’s been working with Auggie on a digital media project for her college applications.”
“And she needs to interview the chief of police about a missing boy?” Tean asked, his book now forgotten in his lap.
“I don’t know about that,” Auggie said. “The project is a collection of videos, but they’re about social media use among teens—you know, TikTok challenges, BookTok, lip synching, cringey fails, the whole range.”
“What are cringey fails?” Emery asked.
At the same time, Theo began, “What are—”
“Pops,” Colt groaned from upstairs before roaring again like a monster.
“She hasn't said anything to me about a missing boy,” Auggie continued. “What boy?”
“I don’t know,” John-Henry said. “I was in a meeting, and by the time I got out, she was gone.”
A question hung at the end of the sentence, and John-Henry was looking at Auggie in a way that reminded him that, even with the buddy-next-door smile, John-Henry was still a cop—and an extremely good one.
