The Fireman's Son. Tara Taylor Quinn

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      He had no idea if the kids knew they were in counseling, but he knew that Sara Havens was overseeing Elliott. Lila had told him that Sara was the one who’d recommended that Reese be allowed to speak alone with the boy. Because Elliott had reached out to him.

      Elliott’s nod gave Reese a curious kind of confidence. He had this.

      In spite of extenuating circumstances that would not be named.

      “Sara didn’t tell you to start a fire.”

      He shook his head.

      “What did she say?”

      Elliott stared at him.

      “She told Lila to call me in to speak with you. I’m sure they told you that,” Reese said at the boy’s continued silence.

      Elliott nodded.

      “So she expects you to speak to me, which means you can say what you say in there.”

      The boy’s brow furrowed. He puckered his lips. And then said, “Sometimes we write stuff. To get it out.”

      “What kind of stuff?”

      Elliott shrugged. He was patting the side of his leg over and over with the tips of his right fingers. “Bad stuff.”

      “Okay.”

      The boy sat there.

      “So you wrote about starting a fire.”

      Elliott’s gaze seemed to be seeking something from him as he once again shook his head.

      “You wrote bad stuff.”

      The boy nodded again.

      “And?”

      “A way to stop it from bugging you is to write it and then throw it away.”

      Understanding dawned.

      “But you didn’t throw yours away.”

      Elliott shook his head.

      “Why not?”

      He shrugged.

      “I’m not asking you what you wrote, Elliott, I’m asking why you didn’t just throw it away in the trash can. Why did you start a fire with it?” He was certain he was right about this part.

      “Because I didn’t think just throwing it away where it still could be read would be good enough.”

      A thought many mature adults had, as well. Adults who had the means to find access to a fire pit, a fireplace, a burn barrel...

      “Where’d you get the matches?”

      “I can’t tell you.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I’m not a snitch.”

      “Did someone steal them for you?”

      “No.”

      “Did someone else give you the idea to burn what you wrote?”

      Another shrug. “Can I just go to jail now?”

      The boy was not going to give up his source. Reese’s job was done here.

      Except...

      “Why did you call me?”

      “So you don’t fire my mom.”

      “Why would I do that?”

      “Because she said that I have to be really good and not make her late on work days, that we can’t mess up at all, because bosses fire people and then we’d have to move because there aren’t any other EMT jobs here except yours.”

      Reese was still recovering from the sentence, nowhere near finding a response to it, when the boy said, “And because you’re the fire chief. Mom always says if I’m ever in trouble to go straight to the principal. Or to Lila. You know, the boss. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers or trust people we don’t know, even if they’re adults.”

      Because his father could send someone for him?

      Faye had said they weren’t in danger. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have residual trust issues stemming from what she’d been through.

      What she’d been through...

      He pushed the thought away.

      “I wanted you to know it’s not her fault,” the boy finished. “Can we go now?”

      Reese leaned forward, elbows on his knees, saw his hands shaking and clasped them together. He and Faye used to sit in front of each other, face-to-face, that way, clasping hands when they were talking about serious things.

      The memory flashed by out of nowhere.

      He sat back.

      “You aren’t going to jail, Elliott,” he said. “You’re going to stay right here. Your punishment is up to Lila and Sara. And your mom.” Then he stood. “But if I ever hear of you so much as having matches again, we’ll have to rediscuss this.”

      The boy was in danger. Thinking he could get away with playing with matches was not cool.

      Elliott’s blue eyes were wide now as he nodded. “So I’m not going to be in trouble with you?”

      “Not this time.”

      “And my mom? Is she in trouble?”

      “Not at all. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

      He nodded, his lips puckering in a new way now. A little-boy way.

      Like he might be about to cry.

      Reese yanked open the door, relieved to see both Sara and Lila on the other side. With a nod to both of them, he strode out.

      Lila could call him to find out what he knew. When she was ready.

      In the meantime, he was ready for a tall one.

       CHAPTER SIX

      I CAN’T BELIEVE Elliott set a fire. I can’t believe it. I cannot believe he did that...

      Faye paced by the side door on Reese’s house, back and forth, back and forth. Waiting for him to get home. If he was even coming home.

      She worried about a lot of things where Elliott was concerned—the fact that he harbored such resentment against her sometimes. The possibility that he’d learned to disrespect СКАЧАТЬ