The Overwoods.

--VI--

--VI--





















I had no idea what I was eating but it was AMAZING.
"How goes the job, son?" said Henry, who was across from me at the Davenports' dining room table.
It was like a cheeseburger. It was like, a cheeseburger, only more cheeseburger.
I smiled. I liked food. Food made me happy.
I looked at Caleb, who was seated beside his father. He didn't answer the question.
I spoke with my mouth full because I didn't really care around these people, and because OMG WOW CHEESEBURGER YAY. OH CHEESEBURGER.
"Caweb!" I said. "Enry athked you equeffion."
Henry looked at me.
"No," said Henry. "I asked you."
"Oh." I quickly swallowed the mouthful of amazing cheeseburger. I wanted it in my mouth for longer, but, oh well. There was more, anyway.
"Things going well?" said Henry.
"They are, and I love it," I said while getting more lettuce from a plate. "I love being useful." I shrugged, and tried not to sound overly excited talking about it. "I love being somewhere, helping where I know I can. And James? He isn't horrible to work with at all, despite all that I've been told. He's a nice guy."
Henry's expression was neutral.
"That's good," said Henry.
"What's this about, dear?" said Scott.
I remembered my conversation with Belinda. Henry's eyes bore into mine.
Suddenly I was scared and nervous. I had the sense that maybe Henry was reading my mind; I didn't try to confirm it.
"Dad, don't do this," said Caleb.
Kaylee scratched her fork on her plate. She was making baby corn plants.
"You're hunting someone dangerous, someone who is a murderer," said Henry. He took a big swig from his drink. "And also a rapist."
Kaylee left the table. I subconsciously dropped my fork and started flailing trying to catch it. That was a mistake, because I couldn't do it right and it ended up flying into the punch bowl and making the punch splash out of it, onto the potato salad. I ruined their perfectly good potato salad.
"I'm sorry," I said. "What..." I trailed off. "What makes you say this?"
Henry was finishing a piece of steak. He took a sip of whatever probably-alcoholic-beverage he'd been drinking for the past twenty minutes.
"Belinda Klein messaged," he said.
"What did she say?" I asked.
"She said you're going after a very dangerous suspect," Henry said.
"We don't even have a suspect," I said. "And even if we did, the suspect wouldn't be any more or less dangerous than others I've dealt with in the past. I'm still here, aren't I?"
Caleb and I locked eyes for a moment, then I looked away.
Henry took another swig before speaking. He tapped his finger on the bottle. "She also said you demanded to get an address."
"I asked," I said.
"Do you realize you're a possible target?" said Henry.
That's all it took. I didn't want to be at that table anymore. I'm not helpless, is what I wanted to say. I took a breath, and then responded.
"We don't know who it is," I said. "Belinda doesn't have anything; there's no actual suspect. Not yet, at least."
Caleb spoke, only to me, telepathically. "You're after a 'who' again," he said. "Not a 'what.'"
Henry was busy drinking his whatever it was.
Caleb spoke to me again. "Hey," he said. "Am I right?" He sounded troubled, even through telepathy. "Chris, you're not in danger, are you?"
I looked around, from Kaylee's empty seat to Scott to Caleb. No one was enjoying the topic. Or the food.
A shame because the food was mind-blowing.
I turned my attention back to Henry.
"It's Kaylee's birthday celebration," I said softly. "Do we really need to talk about this, here?"
"Yes," said Henry. He took another sip. "We do."
"Dad," said Caleb.
"It's okay!" said Kaylee. She was behind me with two small bowls of chocolate ice cream. She placed one on the table in front of me. "You can talk about it here! And remember it's not just my birthday celebration- it's Chris's birthday celebration, too!"
"Please excuse me," I said. I got up from the table. "Caleb can have my ice cream. Thanks, Kaylee."

I was weak, feeble; I fell apart everywhere. But this time I could at least keep it from happening in front of these nice people.

"I can pay for the potato salad," I said.