21

“Mr. Hansen, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I was just looking for, um, for Violet.”

Clay wasn’t freaked out, he was mad. The kid had almost arm-locked him. Adrenaline pulsed through his body and turned his heart into a jackhammer. He inhaled the cool, calming night.

“You’re trespassing.”

“I’m sorry, but is Violet here?”

“You know Violet?” And you’re looking for her at my residence, why?

“From Elysium, sure. She’s in my small group. A great kid.” Austin’s eyes darted to one side.

Oh, no way. The blast of adrenaline and anger turned hot in Clay’s veins, then cold. He gripped the young man’s arm and steered him to the porch and shoved him down onto the first step.

“How old are you?”

Austin rubbed his bare arms as if a breeze had picked up, but the air around them remained still.

“For all intents and purposes, I’m that girl’s father. I’m recommending you tell me the truth.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

Austin’s shirt was balled in Clay’s fist before either of them took a next breath. He jerked the kid forward, half off his feet. “Have you touched her?”

Austin’s fingers pried at Clay’s. “It’s nothing like that, Mr. Hansen.”

“Oh, is that why you’re tapping on my window at twelve-something in the morning, because it’s nothing like that? You feed me more crap and I’ll shove it down your throat, Delvecchio.”

“Violet is a thoughtful, introspective person.”

“She’s also seventeen years old.” And she’s starving for love her parents can’t be bothered to give her. “And if you have so much as thought about—”

“I haven’t. I haven’t.”

Clay breathed. Released the kid’s shirt. Stepped back. Austin tugged at his collar, and his eyes darted toward the street, then fastened on Clay.

“I was hoping Violet would be here. She occasionally slips out this window to meet me, after Khloe’s asleep. A few times, she’s let me in.” He lifted both hands before Clay could charge. “We talk, Mr. Hansen. About philosophy. And, yes, about what we’ll do when she turns eighteen.”

“Get off my lawn and do not come back.”

“Do you know where she is? I don’t think her parents do, but that didn’t worry me.”

“Violet’s fine.”

Miles above the motionless night air, a cloud shifted and bared the moon. Austin tilted his head, and a shadow appeared between his eyebrows.

“You don’t know, either, do you? Is Khloe home?”

Promote a smart kid too young, and all you breed is arrogance. Elysium had done exactly that to Austin: let him lead a teen small group when he’d barely emerged from adolescence himself, given him a group of his own for the Saturday morning Fishers of Friends club. Now this barely legal, scholar wannabe faced Clay down on his own property. A ball of heat rose from the pit of Clay’s stomach.

“If you don’t leave in the next two minutes, I’m calling the cops.”

He said it with all the conviction he could muster, but Austin glanced at the house and crossed his arms. At his wrist, bound there with a black cord, something glittered. A charm … the silver fin of a shark.

“I could call your bluff,” Austin said, “but I’m not sure what that would get me at this point.”

“And I could call you a liar.” Because Violet collected ocean charms. Because Violet held onto her heart, yet this guy merited a gift. Or a pledge.

Austin sighed and backed away. “Call me whatever you want, Mr. Hansen. Violet likes me. Violet talks to me. Violet asks me what to do when she finds out someone she knows is practicing illegal beliefs.”

Clay’s hands turned to ice. If not for the dark, Austin would see the pallor invade his face. Better hit him. Better make a point. But the ice traveled up his arms, down his legs.

“If Khloe acquainted herself with some Christians, like maybe the ones from that busted meeting two nights ago, how would you know? But you would. Parents always figure that kind of stuff out. I still don’t know how they do it, but they do.”

Clay pulled his phone from his pocket, showed Austin the keypad, and pressed 9.

“Which is why you won’t finish dialing.”

Who was this kid? The palms-up pleading from minutes ago had vanished, a stripped veneer. Clay pressed 1.

“No worries, I’m leaving. See you tomorrow.” Austin turned and loped across the grass.

Clay didn’t pocket his phone until Austin’s car had pulled away and not returned for ten minutes. He slipped back into the house, locked and dead-bolted the door. Tomorrow. Right. Fishers of Friends day at Elysium. If Clay missed it now, Austin might congratulate himself on his intimidation technique. Might analyze this situation further. Clay couldn’t haunt his own house, waiting for Violet and Khloe to skip up the driveway. He had to go … to church.

Irony in real life.