branched off the main one and disappeared over the top of a hill. One more stop down memory lane. Tony turned his SUV onto the gravel and followed it to the end. Little Mountain. The namesake of the children’s home.
Tony got out of his vehicle and climbed onto the warm hood. Leaning against the windshield, he listened to the wind rustling through the tall oak trees surrounding the area. The stars twinkled as the heat from the day began to ebb.
This was the first place that he’d been alone with Sabrina. He had done nothing but complain about Salt Creek and she’d been desperate to make him see the beauty of small-town life. So she brought him to Little Mountain. After a brief history lesson on the town, she’d spread a blanket out in the back of his old pickup truck. They were there for hours. Just talking. He never even held her hand, but it was the closest Tony had felt to anyone in his entire life.
Now, as he lay against the windshield and searched for the constellations she’d loved to point out, a sense of peace washed over him. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to look at the night sky? Too long. It was almost impossible to see stars through the glare of city lights.
His time in Salt Creek was slipping away. It was the middle of June. Half of his six-week sentence was over and he didn’t want it to end. He took a deep breath, and the smell of cedar trees, wildflowers and mesquite enveloped him. By the time he got back in his truck and headed slowly down the hill, lightning bugs were dancing in the tall grass.
As he approached the school, the lights on the outside basketball courts drew his attention. A group of boys tossed a ball around on the center court. He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. Jarrod wanted him to get to know the boys in town. The best way to learn about someone was to watch them when they didn’t know they were being watched.
The group home was just on the other side of Little Mountain. How many of the boys on the court were from the home? And were they here unsupervised?
A few scantily clad teen girls chatted on the benches while watching the game. Another group of boys huddled together in the far corner of the parking lot.
One shadowed figure straightened up and turned toward Tony’s vehicle. His companions followed suit. When three of the boys broke off from the group and headed to him, Tony pulled out his smartphone and pretended to be sending a text.
Aware of every move made close to his truck, Tony didn’t look up from his phone until he heard a sharp rap on the window.
“You lookin’ for somebody?” Long brown hair fell in the young man’s face.
“A place, actually.” Tony looked down at his phone. “Little Mountain Group Home. Ever heard of it?”
“I’ve heard of it. Nothing there but a bunch of losers.”
Yep. This kid was definitely trouble. It was in the way he moved and talked. Tony recognized it because he’d been like that once. “I’m supposed to start volunteering there tomorrow morning and I want to be sure I know where I’m going.”
The boy placed one hand on the roof of Tony’s Durango. “Why would you do that?”
Tony shrugged. “I have to.”
He was purposely vague. Someone used to trouble would assume he’d been ordered to do some type of community service.
“Kyle,” one of the boys on the court shouted at a kid walking away. “Where you going? We need you.”
Tony remembered seeing a Kyle on the list Jarrod had given him and looked up to see a lanky kid strutting across the concrete. He stopped next to Tony’s truck.
“Wassup, Nick?” The kids bumped fists.
Nick nodded toward Tony. “This guy wants to know where the home is. Says he’s supposed to start work there tomorrow.”
Kyle turned his head to spit on the ground. “Just follow the road around the mountain and follow the signs out of town. Can’t miss it.”
Tony frowned. Well, that had backfired. Now he had no choice but to leave. Unless he wanted to look suspicious. He fell back on his training. Keep ’em talking. “What’s there to do around here?”
“Not much. Where you from?” Kyle stepped between the truck and Nick.
Something about the way Kyle stood put Tony on edge. He hovered around the truck, his eyes darting back and forth from the dark alley next to the basketball courts to Nick.
“San Antonio.”
Kyle grinned. “No way. I’m from San Marcos.”
“I’ve been there. My buddies and I like to tube the Guadalupe River down to New Braunfels.”
“Yeah? We did that a few times, too.”
Nick slapped Kyle on the shoulder. “The guys are ready. You coming?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right there.” Kyle leaned against the truck, clearly in no hurry.
“I take it you’re from the home. What about him?” Tony nodded toward the retreating kid.
“Nah.” Kyle glanced over his shoulder. “His grandpa donated the building the state turned into the home, and his dad’s some big shot who inspects all the group homes in the area.”
“Sounds like the kid’s got it made.”
“Yeah.”
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tony watched the teen head back to the others.
Kyle took his time getting to Nick’s group. He stopped and talked to a girl watching the game and another boy coming off the court. Tony smiled. Nick liked to run the show and Kyle was making it known that he wasn’t going to jump through the kid’s hoops.
Tony looked around the area. How many of the teens were from the home? He was pretty sure they were supposed to have adult supervision at all times. Wherever the chaperone was, they weren’t paying much attention to the boys on the courts. Kyle got in a truck with Nick and a few others and left without saying a word to anyone else. Was Nick one of the long-time residents of Salt Creek? Was he a transfer from the city?
Most people who grew up in the small town couldn’t wait to get out. Then, as they got older, they tired of the hustle and bustle of city life and recalled an idealistic childhood. When their teenage children became belligerent, the parents’ solution was to ship them to the grandparents, convinced life in small-town America would cure them. Sometimes it worked, like with him. Sometimes it didn’t. Too bad those parents didn’t realize it was the first decade of their life that counted the most. Was Nick one of those kids?
* * *
SABRINA SCRAMBLED EGGS while listening for Marissa’s car. She rolled her shoulders. Lack of sleep over the past week had given her a dull headache and an aching back.
She had no reason to be so worried. Marissa had promised to keep her secret but if Marissa had guessed that Levi was Tony’s son, how long would it take for others to figure it out? After almost an hour of questions, she’d managed to convince Marissa that she didn’t intentionally lie to Tony. She doubted others would be as forgiving. Especially Tony.
