Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

was here, it was the only thing in the garage. That is no longer true.

Evan sits on the floor in the back corner, opposite us, leaning against the wall. Stretched out on the ground beside him is his brother. Sawyer’s head lies in Evan’s lap. His eyes are closed, and his chest is moving up and down in a way that tells me he’s asleep.

Not so his older brother. Evan’s eyes are open and staring at me, as if half expecting me to start yelling.

I step into the garage, careful not to make too much noise, then walk over and crouch down beside the brothers. Evan’s gaze stays on me the entire way.

In a quiet voice, I say, “Come inside. It’s warmer there.”

Evan’s lip trembles as he says, “He-he hasn’t slept much. I don’t want to wake him.”

“He can lie down on one of our beds. If he’s tired, he’ll go back to sleep.” I glance at Sawyer and back at Evan. “That jacket may be insulating him from the cold concrete, but I doubt his pants are. Yours, neither, I’d bet. You’ll be a lot more comfortable inside.”

“O-o-okay.”

When he doesn’t move right away, I say, “Maybe it’ll be better if I’m not here when you wake him up.”

Evan nods, looking a bit relieved that he didn’t need to suggest it. “Probably.”

“We’ll be inside. Join us when you’re ready.”

I give him a quick smile and go back into the house.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jar and I are in the kitchen, looking for some food the boys might like. I’m sure they’re hungry. I remove two bottles of water from the refrigerator and eye what food we have there. It’s not much. Part of a Subway sandwich, a donut, and some tasteless-looking french fries.

From a nearby cupboard, Jar pulls out some granola bars.

They may not make for a gourmet breakfast but they’re better than anything I’ve found, so I close the fridge.

From the garage. we hear hushed voices. I’m sure I could pick up a word or two if I tried, but I let them have their privacy. Soon footsteps approach the door.

By unspoken agreement, Jar and I stay in the kitchen, keeping the counter between us and the garage door, in hopes that will make us look less threatening. But even then, when the brothers enter the room and Sawyer sees us, he stops in his tracks and stares.

“It’s okay,” Evan says. “I told you. They’re friends.”

“I remember them,” Sawyer says, his gaze not shifting. “They were at the Grand Canyon.”

“That’s right. They’re the ones who helped me.”

“When you saved Terry.”

“Yeah.”

Terry? Who’s—

Then I notice the stuffed tiger squeezed tightly under one of Sawyer’s arms. The same stuffed tiger Evan was clutching when we pulled him up the side of the canyon.

Terry.

Sawyer eyes us for another few seconds, then looks at his brother. “I’m tired.”

“They have a bed you can use.” Evan glances our way. “It’s still okay, right?”

Before I can say anything, Jar steps toward the hallway and says, “I will show you the way.”

She heads into the back of the house and Evan guides his brother after her. Sawyer’s eyes return to me as they start walking and stay there until he and Evan move out of sight.

At one point, I hear Sawyer say, “That’s not a bed.”

Jar says something too low for me to hear. Whatever it is, it seems to do the trick, because when she and Evan return, Sawyer is not with them.

We have made zero improvements to the duplex’s décor since Evan’s last visit, and still have only the two chairs. Like before, I let Evan and Jar take them, then I bring out the water bottles and granola bars and set them on the table.

“I’m guessing you missed breakfast this morning,” I say.

“Thank you,” Evan says. He opens one of the bars and finishes it in two big bites.

When he looks at the others, I say, “Have as many as you want.”

He takes a second one, polishes it off, and drinks half of one of the bottles. This seems to satisfy him for the moment.

“How about you tell us what you and your brother were doing in our garage?” I say.

He looks at the table, as if afraid to meet my eyes. “We…I mean, I…” He lets out a breath. “There was nowhere else close by for us to go. I’m sorry.”

“Something wrong with your house?”

“No,” he says tentatively. He’s playing semantics.

“In your house, then?”

He glances up at me, then looks away again.

“Evan, did something happen that made you leave?” I ask.

His chest moves in and out faster and faster as his breathing accelerates. He swallows, trying to calm himself, and says, “I’m really sorry. I-I’ll pay for the window.”

“What did you do to the window?” I ask.

“It, um…it cracked in the corner when I pried it open. I’m sorry.”

“Well, there goes our security deposit,” I say.

I mean this as a joke, but Evan doesn’t take it that way. “I’m so, so sorry. We didn’t mean to cause you any problems. We can go now. That would probably be best. Thank you for letting us use your garage.”

When he stands up, I say, “I’m the one who’s sorry. I wasn’t serious. And you haven’t caused any problems. Really. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to let Sawyer sleep for a while?”

He looks toward the hallway, seemingly lost in thought.

“You do not want to go back out in the rain, do you?” Jar says.

Evan sits back down.

“We want to help you,” Jar says. “But we need to know why you and your brother left in the middle of the night.”

Pain crosses his face as he tries to push past whatever is keeping him from saying what happened. It’s heartbreaking and makes me want to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything is going to be all right. But that would be a lie. Nothing will ever be completely all right for him and his brother again. Or for their mother. I’m not saying we won’t take