Page 46 of Playing With Fire

Chapter Seven

The boys denied everything. Ricky hadn’t expected a full and frank confession, but a little cooperation would have been nice.

They were seated in Silas’ study: the twins, Silas, and Ricky. The room smelled of coffee and old musty corners. The somber scene lacked only the relentless ticking of an old-fashioned clock.

They were five minutes into what Silas had described as a time of prayerful meditation. In other words, silence.

Joshua and Judah were slumped together, eyes closed, like world-weary, victimized outcasts the world over. Silas was leaning over, his head in his hands. His lips moved soundlessly.

Ricky choked off an uneasy sigh. He wasn’t at all sure what the Almighty could do here. Facts were facts.

He didn’t like what he had to do next. And at the moment, he didn’t like himself much either.

Silas sat up straight. His eyes were sharp, and he had a natural authority that reminded Ricky that the preacher was ex Wall Street, a former trader with millions of dollars in investments and pension plans in his hands.

“Judah and Joshua, look at me please.”

The twins reluctantly opened their eyes and struggled to a semblance of sitting up straight.

“Didn’t do it.” Judah’s voice veered between the squeakiness of a frightened child and the gruffness of an adolescent. His brother nodded agreement.

Ricky opened his mouth, but Silas held up his hand, and such was his authority that Ricky sat back.

Fine, he thought, let the man of God have the first crack. His turn would come.

“You were both seen at the retirement village. Yesterday, around lunchtime. And Hattie says you disappeared while Mr. Sharp here was talking to all the playgroup parents.”

Judah looked around the room as though seeking inspiration. He shrugged. “Yeah. So what?”

Silas’ gaze hardened. Judah instantly retreated. He swallowed, and wriggled as though trying and failing to find a comfortable spot.

“I mean...like yeah, we did leave without permission, Silas, and we’re really sorry about that. We most always tell Hattie, ’cos she gets worried and we don’t want to upset her.”

He glanced at his brother, who nodded. “We wouldn’t upset Hattie.”

“But she was real busy, like. And this dude—” he glared at Ricky, “—was banging on about some sh— I mean, stuff about fires and matches. And he was watching us, man, we could tell. Like we were white trash and didn’t have no rights.”

“No rights,” echoed Josh.

Ricky shifted uneasily under the combination of Silas’ penetrating gaze and the aggrieved glares of the twins.

“If I gave you that impression, then I’m truly sorry,” Ricky said quietly. “But I have to do my job—and you need to tell me the truth before someone really does get hurt.”

Silas nodded. His gaze was steely as he turned to his foster sons.

“Were you at the retirement village?”

There was silence. Faint sounds from outside filtered through the storm windows. A truck, perhaps a motorbike.

The twins nodded simultaneously, and Ricky was surprised by the wave of disappointment that washed through him.

“Tell me what happened,” Ricky said heavily.

Silas seemed to have retreated, as though preparing himself for the upheaval and the grief that was about to unfold. The twins would be taken away from foster care, that was certain, and probably slotted into the already overcrowded juvenile crime system. He and Hattie had failed these boys.

But Judah’s gaze was clear when he lifted his head. Clear, and defiant.

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