Page 8 of In Hiding

Sarah focused on Will. “Actually, I think I need to put this one to bed, before he tumbles back down to the ground.”

Will laughed and lost his balance for an instant. Neville caught the flailing arm to steady him. “Easy there, tiger,” he said, before turning to the teen. “How about you let your mum give you a hand?”

Will snorted. “I can do it.”

As he passed by, the waft of whiskey made her want to gag. She watched him lean against the wall as he wobbled up the stairs. She waved the Sergeant inside, closing the door before returning to the kitchen.

Retrieving the first aid kit from under the sink, she fumbled with the zipper single-handedly, failing to move the metal clasp at all.

“Here.” Neville rushed to her side. “Allow me.” He lifted the red case and unzipped it with ease. “Care to elaborate?”

“The finger?”

He smiled as he rummaged through the contents. “Yes. The finger, as you put it.”

“The onion made me cry,” she joked, “and the knife slipped.”

Taking her hand in his, he unwrapped the digit and examined the wound. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you probably should get a doc to check it out. Properly.”

Sarah watched as he cleaned the incision and applied a bandage. “What about you? Care to elaborate about my son?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing else to report. They were drinking in the empty grandstand at the showgrounds and making a right old racket. A local resident reported them.”

“They?”

He nodded though she didn’t need him to name names.

“And they were just drinking?”

Neville leaned back and eyed her curiously. “You expected more?”

Praying the boy was indeed in bed, she lowered her voice. “So, he wasn’t selling alcohol? Or doing drugs?”

With a chuckle, Neville zipped the first aid case back up. “I don’t believe so, no.”

Relief tumbled through her and the dread of hearing worse news evaporated. “Thank goodness for small mercies. He didn’t happen to have his backpack with him?”

“It’s in the car. He is going to have quite a hangover in the morning, though. Whiskey and beer are a fearsome combination.”

Her stomach retched at the mix of alcohol. With a nod, Sarah leaned against the counter. “Agreed. I suppose he won’t be going to school tomorrow.”

“Highly likely.” Neville smiled. His eyes lightened as crow’s feet appeared. His fair skin seemed hardly touched by the sun at all. “He’s just a teenager trying to find his feet.”

If only you knew. Sarah swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. It was hard enough to think Will could land himself in hot water with the law, but the very idea that his waywardness might draw unwanted attention to them worried her more than anything. She did not need Sergeant Wilson inquiring into their background.

“Well, hopefully a sore head will teach him a lesson.” She forced a chuckle. “Thank you, Sergeant, for bringing him home safely.”

“It’s Neville,” he insisted. “And it was no trouble. I was a boy his age, once upon a long time ago. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Perish the thought. Sarah pushed away from the counter, ready to encourage the man back into his cruiser. “Thank you, again.” She led the way back to the front door. “Tell me, has Sergeant Long retired?”

Neville’s smile fell. “Yes. Off to his cabin in the woods, apparently. You knew him?”

“Well enough. He was very helpful when we first moved in.” Sarah opened the door. “I hope you and I can build the same sort of friendship.”

They stepped out into the cold night. “This is a lovely house.”

She glanced around at the old, weather-beaten home left to her by her great aunt. The ghost of childhood memories lingered but she would’ve been only three, maybe four, when she last visited. The house had felt familiar when she and Will had moved in four years ago, and now it felt like home. A very big home, though.

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