“Your mother said in that note she wants you to go with them.”
The boy shrugged again.
Grill looked at his son for long seconds and then once again at the Trainers.
“Look after him.”
The brothers nodded, which she thought showed restraint, because she wanted to yell at Grill and ask him how he could just dismiss his son like that.
“Son of a bitch,” Luke muttered. “I should have hit him harder.”
“Wait here.” Joe stepped away from them and followed.
Quinn watched Grill turn and listen to what Joe said. Sheriff Dans and two of his deputies joined them, then waved a man in a black suit closer. Until then, Quinn hadn’t noticed him. More words were spoken that she couldn’t hear.
The suit dropped to the ground and opened his briefcase. He pulled out some paper and started scribbling something on it, then handed it to Grill with a pen. Tense seconds later, Grill leaned on the back of one of the men he’d arrived with and wrote on the paper. He slapped it into Joe’s chest. Minutes later, he was roaring away on his motorcycle.
Only then did Quinn haul in a deep, steadying breath.
“Son of a bitch didn’t even say goodbye,” Luke muttered softly.
“Mrs. McMillan, can you watch Nixon while we discuss some matters with these men and the sheriff?” Mr. Buchanan asked.
“I’ll go too,” Quinn said.
“I don’t need watching,” the boy growled.
“Nixon, can you watch Quinn? She’s new in town and one of those people who finds trouble standing still,” Luke said.
She should have been insulted, but instead she made herself nod when Nixon turned her way. She was fairly sure he wasn’t buying what Luke had said, but it saved face for the boy, who she was sure rarely had anyone looking after him. But even he had to be unsettled right in that moment. His mom had been murdered, he’d found her body, and his dad just took off on his bike after getting into a fight with the Trainers and then telling Nixon he didn’t want him. Quinn was rattled, and it had nothing to do with her.
He’d woken in his bed this morning to the life he’d likely always lived no matter how good or bad. That had all now changed forever.
“You want hot chocolate, Nixon? It’s colder here than in Ryker Falls. Mrs. MacMillan and I can have a coffee.”
He shrugged, which she took for yes, so she nodded to the brothers and then led him and the CPS worker back to the cafe and ordered more food. Nixon had a hot chocolate and ate everything she placed in front of him in silence, answering any question she threw at him with a grunt.
Quinn and Mrs. MacMillan talked about the weather and ignored what they’d just witnessed on the street. But they were both tense.
She noticed Nixon was shivering as she finished her coffee. His T-shirt was thin and too big for him. The boy needed a sweater or coat. Maybe that would take his mind off stuff? She could do that for him if nothing else to make his life a bit brighter today.
Would he let her buy him a coat?
“Do you have a jacket, Nixon?”
He shook his head.
“A warm sweater?”
He shrugged which told her nothing.
“Shall we go and find you one?”
He shrugged again and as she didn’t speak teenage boy shrug, she looked at Mrs. McMillan.
“A new coat would be nice for him I’m sure.”
“Is there somewhere to buy clothes nearby?” she asked the woman.