Free Clean Burn by Karen Sandler Page B

mixed up. You said she was a tweaker.”
    The box on Cassie’s waist started beeping, a red light flashing. Ken moved in for a closer look. Cassie tried to sidestep him, but he hooked a finger in a belt loop on her jeans.
    “Your insulin cartridge is low. Where’s your spare?”
    Cassie tried to wriggle free. “You’re messing up my game.”
    “Is it in your backpack?” He picked up the vivid purple book bag at her feet and got the zipper half open.
    Cassie snatched the backpack from him. “I forgot it, okay? I don’t have my spare.”
    He grabbed her arm. “Then we’ll have to go home.”
    “I’m not done playing.”
    Ken plucked the controller out of her hand. “Next time you’ll remember to carry a spare.”
    Ken perp-walked Cassie from the store and out to the Explorer, the kid complaining every step at the affront to her dignity. Caged in the back seat, she stewed as Ken made a quick stop at the sheriff’s department to drop me off. While family relations between Ken and Cassie hadn’t sunk to the level of dysfunction of my own, I was glad enough to escape the confines of the Ford.
    Cassie climbed from the back to take shotgun next to her uncle. Before the Explorer pulled out, she rolled down her window and called out to me. “Hey, you want to come for dinner?”
    I caught a glimpse of Ken through the open window. He looked ready to implode from the aggravation. Much as I might enjoy adding to his annoyance level, I’d spent too much time with the man already today. I didn’t want to fall prey to any old habits that might lead to another bedroom episode.
    Ken’s gaze locked briefly with mine and I wondered if the same thoughts had flitted through his mind. “Janelle’s too busy to come to dinner.”
    “Uncle Ken can’t cook, but if you want to risk it, you’re welcome to come.” Now I saw the plea in Cassie’s eyes. Maybe she hoped my presence during dinner would blunt her uncle’s wrath.
    She mouthed, “please,” and sucker that I am, I couldn’t seem to form the word “No.” “Sure. Thanks.”
    As Ken glared at his niece, Cassie tore a sheet of lined paper from one of her spiral notebooks and scribbled their address on it. I didn’t recognize the street.
    Ken took the sheet from Cassie and added a hastily scrawled map. “It’s behind the new development off Patterson Road. We eat between 6.30 and 7.00.”
    They pulled out with a screech of tires, Ken taking out his anger on the Explorer’s suspension. Relieved to be out of that pressure-cooker, I climbed into my Escort and headed over to the motel to check in and grab a shower.

CHAPTER 6
     
    James leaned against the thin pillow he’d propped against the cinderblock wall, Sean snuggled in his lap. The book Mama had given them lay open on the little boy’s skinny legs. It had been a present, Mama said, to reward James the first time he’d held the candle all the way to the bottom. He’d read the book so many times now, he didn’t need to look at the page to tell Sean the story.
    Which was good since even daylight wasn’t usually enough to read by. During the day, he did okay if he held the book up toward the window. But times like now, when the sun was on the other side of the house, he could hardly make out the words on the page.
    When Mama had come in earlier and lit a candle, James had wondered if he would have to hold it. But Mama had set it on the floor by the mattress. James had almost cried with relief.
    James checked the page he was on, the book hard to see in the flickering candlelight. “Then Bunny knocked on Fox’s door,” James read, “‘Where are my carrots?’ Bunny asked.”
    Sean turned the page. The little boy knew the book as well as James. “‘Come inside,’ Fox said. ‘Your carrots are right here.’”
    As Sean flipped to the next page, Lydia whimpered from the playpen. James held his breath, hoping the baby would quiet down again. If she got going, she would just cry louder and louder until Mama