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Jayden had the grace to hang his head as he rubbed the spot Abby had smacked. “I’m sorry, Abby. I really won’t do it again.”
Just how much time had Jayden been spending in the forest?
Abby’s gaze at last flicked to André standing behind her brother.
“Did you get arrested???” she shrieked, her gaze locked on André.
Hastily, André plastered his most calming smile on his face.
“Jayden isn’t under arrest or even in trouble. Notmuchtrouble anyway. I just gave him a ride home. Do you know when your mom will be home?” He peered over the kids’ heads, seeing only a sagging couch with an abandoned game controller sitting on it. A basket of clothes sat on a coffee table and a few moving boxes were shoved against a wall. Were they moving or had the boxes never been unpacked?
So many alarm bells were ringing.
The kids exchanged a glance. They were hiding something, but this wasn’t the time to drag it out of them.
“Mom’s not home right now,” Abby said again. “She’s usually here around dinnertime though.”
The kids were both over the age of ten; legally, they could be left on their own.
André himself had survived with almost no parental oversight. He and Gene had been the ultimate latchkey kids with full run of the house until their dad got home in the evenings. For christ’s sake, his dad hadn’t known where André or Gene were most days of the week from fourth grade onward. The lack of structure had been fine for André; Gene, not so much.
“Alright, maybe just let her know I stopped by to introduce myself. I’ll meet her another time.” He glanced at Jayden. “No more treks in the forest and quit skipping school.”
“Yessir.”
“If you want to learn more about law enforcement, how about you drop by the station after school one of these days?”
“That might be cool,” Jayden said in a grudging tone. The sparkle in his eyes told a different story.
André jogged down the walk to his cruiser and slid onto the driver’s seat. He stared back at the run-down house, his index fingers tapping soundlessly against the steering wheel. Every instinct in him screamed that something was going on with the Harlow family. He’d check in with Carol and find out what he didn’t know about the Harlows that he should.
FOUR
Dante – 4
“Please, Zio.”
Daniella slow-blinked at him. Dante’s heart stuttered and skipped a beat, as it had at least once or twice a day since that terrible night in August. The condition wasn’t fatal. It was purely emotional and caused entirely by his niece. Daniella’s dark brown eyes were replicas of her mother’s.
“It’s just two girls, Romy and Violet,” she continued. “We’re not going anywhere.”
He opened his mouth, the wordshellandnobalancing on the tip of his tongue.
The aforementioned eyes glistened and shimmered slightly.
For fuck’s sake. It wasn’t even seven in the morning. A man needed warning to stave off an emotional assault like this one. Or at least a cup of fucking coffee.
How did parents not walk around their home mutteringfuckevery second of the day?
Running his hand through his hair, Dante resisted the urge to also tug on it. And say fuck. Was this what it was like parenting a teenager? Constantly toeing the line between yes and no? And her use of the Italian endearment for uncle? He was dead in the water. He was putty in her hands and Daniella knew it. How had his sister done it?
No.He was not going there. Not this morning. The grief and guilt over Simone’s death—murder—had a way of dragging him under until he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Dante drew a strengthening breath in through his nose. He had to rally against this onslaught. He started to speak, but his niece beat him to it.
“All I ever do is go to school and come back here. It’s not even a home!”
Were those tears glimmering in her eyes? Dante refused to glance around the shabby rental house. The owner had advertised it as furnished. Along with the very basic bedroom sets and kitchenware, the house had come with a garishly bright, pink floral couch and settee, the ugliest living room furniture Dante had ever laid eyes on—and that was saying a lot.
