Free Bringing Baby Home by Debra Salonen

right thing.”
    She wasn’t going to hold her breath, but maybe Zeke could persuade the man.
    David walked around the truck, but didn’t open the door. “I have a big order to fill for a greenhouse so I probably won’t be around for a couple of days, but I have your card. If it’s okay, I’ll call you tomorrow to find out how everything went.”
    She nodded. “Sure.”
    He was parked directly under the streetlight. When he glanced at her neighbor’s house, he said, “Don’t let them intimidate you. If they give you any grief or don’t believe your side of the story, I’d be happy to have a few…um…words with the kid.”
    A shiver passed down her spine. There was nothing intimidating in his words or tone, but she knew that was one talk Crissy’s stepson would never forget.
    She watched his taillights bounce over the speed bumps then disappear out of sight.
    After a fortifying lecture from her mother and Zeke, Liz accompanied the detective next door. Although she would have preferred to file a complaint and let the police handle it, Yetta had convinced Liz that she wouldn’t feel a sense of closure unless she participated in the meeting.
    “Is this your son’s bike?” Liz asked when Crissy opened the door.
    “Oh, my gosh, you found it. I just called in a report to the police. Eli said he forgot his lock and someone stole it while he was in the library.”
    “The library?” Liz choked.
    Crissy frowned and looked from Liz to Zeke. “Who are you? What’s going on?”
    Zeke showed his badge and asked if they could speak with her and her husband.
    “I guess so. What’s this about?”
    “Is your son home?”
    “No. He’s spending the night with a friend.”
    Zeke didn’t say anything, but his serious demeanor obviously unnerved Crissy. She ushered them inside and pointedtoward the scrupulously neat living room. “Have a seat. Elijah’s in the den.”
    Eli? Elijah, Junior?
    Crissy returned moments later with a six-foot version of the boy who had started this whole debacle. Once the two were seated and introductions had been made, Zeke described the events of the evening.
    “No way. Not Eli,” Crissy’s husband roared. The look he gave Liz clearly called her a liar. She had no doubt where his son’s antipathy stemmed from.
    “Are you sure it was Eli, Liz?” Crissy asked, her voice thin and whiny. “You don’t really know him. You could be mistaken. Maybe the kid who stole his bike—”
    She stopped, no doubt realizing how desperate and ridiculous she sounded.
    “There’s another witness who identified your son,” Zeke said. “Let’s get something straight here. Ms. Radonovic is the victim. She’s well within her rights to press charges—and I’ve encouraged her to do so, but she’s hoping to spare your son a trip to juvenile court. It all depends on how you handle this.”
    Crissy turned to her husband. His brow was crinkled and his expression fierce. Liz’s intuition told her this man harbored a deep-set hostility toward women. He had yet to make eye contact with Liz.
    “He’s just a kid,” the man said, his voice a deep rumble that was nowhere near as soothing as David’s bass.
    “A kid with a serious problem,” Zeke added.
    “I just want to see him get some help,” Liz said.
    Crissy’s look seemed to say she agreed with Liz, but her husband was already making noises about hiring a lawyer to fight the charge. He even muttered something about proving Liz was to blame. “What do you expect from someone who has Eurotrash living with her?”
    Zekestood up and took a step closer to Crissy’s husband. He didn’t have a gun in his hand, but somehow he managed to look just as threatening without one. “Like I said, Liz is the victim here. The victim is the one who has all the rights, not your twisted little brat who doesn’t know how to behave in polite society. If you were smart, you’d join him at the shrink’s.”
    The man lost some of his bluster. “Kids are kids. They