Free Against the Sky by Kat Martin Page A

page to access Jimmy’s, but he hadn’t posted anything new. A couple of girls had posted photos of themselves, but if he’d seen them, Jimmy hadn’t responded.
    â€œIt was worth a try,” Samantha said, shutting the machine back down.
    â€œI wish Nick would call. I can’t stand this waiting.” Mary led the way back downstairs and Jimmy’s golden retriever, Duke, fell in beside them, a hopeful look on his doggie face. He accompanied them into the kitchen, toenails tapping on the wide-planked hardwood floors. He lay down on his bed in the corner, clearly waiting for his friend to come home.
    Samantha glanced around the kitchen, which was state-of-the-art, with stainless steel appliances and designer lighting. Clearly, Jimmy’s father had been a very successful man.
    Just as they walked up to the breakfast table, the door from the laundry room swung open and Jimmy walked into the house.
    â€œJimmy!” Mary’s voice came out high and shrill. “Forgodsake, where have you been?”
    The boy didn’t answer. Duke jumped up and hurried toward him. Jimmy patted him absently on the head and kept walking. He was tall for twelve and muscular, a good-looking kid who was clearly part Alaska Native. Mary spotted his swollen and blackening eye at the same time Samantha did.
    As the boy walked past, Mary reached out and caught his arm. “What happened, Jimmy? Who did that to you?”
    â€œI got in a fight, okay? I’m all right. It’s no big deal.”
    â€œIt’s a very big deal, Jimmy! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? An hour ago, I called the police!”
    His face seemed to turn a shade lighter. “Call them back and tell them I’m okay.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Mary asked. “I think you should sit down and let me take a look at you, at least let me put some antiseptic on your lip.”
    â€œI didn’t hit my head or anything. I’m fine.”
    â€œI’ll call the troopers,” Samantha volunteered, “let them know he’s home safe. And I’ll see if I can reach Nick.”
    â€œThank you.”
    As Samantha headed for the phone, Jimmy tipped his head in her direction. “Who’s she?”
    â€œHer name is Samantha Hollis. She’s a friend of Nick’s.”
    Samantha lifted the phone and dialed 9-1-1. When the dispatch answered, she relayed the information that Jimmy Evans was home, safe and well, answered a couple of other questions, then hung up the phone.
    She heard footsteps in the living room, figured it was Nick. “We’re in here,” she called out to him. “Jimmy’s home.”
    Nick walked in scowling. It was clear he was barely hanging onto his temper. “Where the hell have you been? Your aunt’s been frantic.”
    His scowl deepened as he spotted the boy’s black eye and split lip. He reached out and caught Jimmy’s chin, tipped his face up. His gaze remained hard, but his deep voice softened. “What happened, Jimmy? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
    The boy pulled away. “I’m not in trouble. I got in a fight with one of the kids from school. It’s no big deal, okay?”
    â€œWhich kid?” Mary asked.
    Jimmy didn’t answer, just mulishly set his jaw.
    â€œYour aunt asked you a question,” Nick said.
    â€œI’m not a rat. We had a fight. That’s all I’m saying.”
    Mary looked at Nick for guidance.
    â€œAll right, Jimmy, you don’t have to rat out your friend. But I think it’s time you talked to someone. I called earlier to ask if you wanted to go fishing in the morning. You can either talk to me tomorrow, or you can go to a counselor. As your guardian, your aunt can make that happen. What’s it going to be?”
    Seconds ticked past as Jimmy mulled over his choices. Samantha was sure he’d pick talking to Nick. “I’ll go to the counselor.”
    Nick