Page 99 of A Surefire Love
The student nodded.
“Meet me at The Depot?” Only after the offer was out did he remember Eric’s dislike for the place. “Just check with your parents first, okay?”
“I’ll text Mom,” Dylan said. “She won’t mind.”
“MaybeIdo.” Carter held the ball and looked between Anson and his brother.
“You promised.” Dylan grabbed Carter’s arm and pulled. “Come on.”
Promised what? He’d ask, but the community center was closing. Perhaps he could figure it out at the restaurant. He led them outside.
At The Depot, they took a booth in the dining area. Dylan gleefully ordered more food than any one person—even one who hadn’t already had dinner—could eat, but once the waiter walked away, he became as quiet as his sullen brother.
Anson considered diving right into his story about Gury, but something—the Lord, he hoped—prompted him to start with a question. “Did you come to the community center looking for me?”
Dylan shot a bright look at his brother, but Carter only scowled. Dylan pressed his hands on the tabletop and leaned toward him until his chest hit his wrists. “The fire inspector says someone lit candles in the sanctuary. They found what was left of them on the stage. They weresupposed to be for Christmas Eve.” He leaned back, jostling the seat and Carter in the process.
Anson absorbed the information. That the candles had been taken from the closet by the youth room enforced his suspicion that their repeat visitor had started the fire. When he’d stored the candles there, he’d checked for signs of whoever was sneaking in. Instead of helping, it seemed he’d put tempting flammables directly in his or her path. “Do they still think it was an accident?”
Dylan shrugged and nodded. “Do you think the person who did it will get in trouble? I mean, the candles were supposed to be burned in church, so it’s not like it was wrong to light them.”
They might as well be back on the court, playing two-on-one, only Anson couldn’t afford to lose this match. He needed to find out what the brothers knew.
Carter rolled his eyes. “You’re making him think you did it.”
“What? No!”
“Western burger.” A burger piled six inches tall with toppings landed in front of Dylan.
Dylan’s eyes darted to the waiter who’d dropped it off, but the guy didn’t miss a beat as he unloaded the rest of Dylan’s order, including fries, a milkshake, and fried cheese curds. Carter accepted the plate with his onion rings. Anson had ordered the same.
Once the waiter left, Anson said grace, then the boys started eating. His own appetite having evaporated, he studied the brothers. “What do you know about the fire?”
“Nothing,” Dylan blurted.
That elicited another eye roll from Carter. “Just what we told you.”
“How did you two learn about the investigation? It’s not wrapped up yet, is it?”
Dylan gulped down a bite of burger. “The leadership board keeps meeting at our house.”
“Those meetings are supposed to be confidential,” Anson said. Even without an ongoing fire investigation, the board covered sensitive topics—details about struggling members, conflicts within the body, and employment decisions.
“Yeah, but you should be included.” A glop of barbecue sauce and mayo slopped over Dylan’s pinkie and dropped to the table. “You shouldn’t have been fired.”
“Telling me what they’re saying isn’t going to change what happened.”
“My dad’s a bully. Nobody stands up to him but you.”
Dylan’s declaration drew a sigh from Carter, who rested his elbow on the table, his cheek against a loose fist.
“Who has he been bullying?”
Dylan lowered his gaze to the mountain range of food in front of him.
Carter studied his brother, the corner of his mouth tight.
These two had a secret, but as clearly as Anson had once felt the Lord directing him to give up his basketball scholarship, he knew it wasn’t the boys’ turn to talk. It was his.
