Free Without Faith by Leslie J. Sherrod Page A

springing into action, our heads and hands bumping as we gathered the bowls from the floor.
    Oh no, he thinks my nerves are rattled because of him. I could tell by the subtle smile of victory that lingered on his lips as he settled back into his seat. I rolled my eyes to myself, opting to fix toast and whatever was ready-made in my refrigerator instead.
    I needed to get some answers and then get this man out of my house.
    â€œYogurt? Fruit salad?” I grabbed some containers out of the refrigerator. “You can make your own parfait.”
    â€œYou are a beautiful woman.”
    His directness caught me off-guard, but I was not going to be thrown anymore.
    â€œWhat do you know about the whereabouts of my son?” I sat in the chair next to him, ignoring his comment and refusing to try to figure out why his finger was resting on his bottom lip again as he studied me. Whatever he was studying, he came to a quick conclusion because he straightened up in his seat, cleared his throat, and began talking like the reporter I saw on the news every night.
    â€œAn old colleague of mine works as an investigative reporter for an affiliate out in Las Vegas. He’s been working on a story about underage gambling at some casinos. I got a call from him a couple of hours ago telling me that he was following a story about three boys from Baltimore found at a blackjack table at one of the high-end hotels.”
    â€œAnd you know that—”
    â€œIt was your son, his cousin, and the pastor’s nephew.” He leaned back in the chair.
    â€œOkay, so we get them on the first plane back home and punish them for the next decade. I don’t get what the big deal is. Why the ‘breaking story’ as you called it?” I was minimizing how I felt about this revelation, but I had to for the sake of this man. I did not know where this was going.
    â€œIt’s not that clean or simple, Sienna.”
    â€œClean?” The word jumped out at me.
    â€œThe rental car they were driving would be considered stolen if reported.”
    â€œI’m sure my son was not driving it.” Like that meant anything. I knew it wasn’t a good situation.
    â€œAnd there was . . . a large amount of money and some illegal substances hidden in the trunk.”
    I grabbed the edge of the counter, willing myself not to faint. “The police . . .” I couldn’t get out the rest of my question.
    â€œThere are no police involved. Yet.” Laz spooned a large glob of vanilla yogurt into the tall glass I’d put in front of him and then dropped several grapes and melon slices on top. The fruit salad had been left over from Ava’s impromptu lunch, I recalled, the same lunch when she’d told me I needed a man.
    Why do these thoughts come up at such inopportune times?
    I knew why. I wanted Leon there with me. He would know what to do. And he would find a way, a reason, to hold me close to him, I imagined. But he wasn’t there. I had to handle this moment on my own. First, I exhaled. Then I tried to make sense of what Laz was saying.
    â€œThe police aren’t involved yet? What does that mean?” I held my breath.
    â€œLike I said, my friend is an investigative reporter, like me. He was the one who found the boys and brought it to the attention of the casino security, who made the other discoveries, the cash, the drugs. Now, it is not in the hotel’s best interest for the police and media to get involved because they freely let the boys come and play without checking IDs, which is supposed to be their policy. And, to be honest with you, Mitch is only interested in breaking the story if the boys had major dirt on them, so it doesn’t just look like he’s reporting about some teen boys trying to have a night on the town in Las Vegas. That’s not the type of breaking news that will boost his career. At least the kind of career Mitch is aiming for.”
    And the kind you’re