“What’s your name?” Leo asked.
“Evan.”
“Okay, Evan. Tomorrow morning I can pressure-test the cooling system properly.”
“I need to leave tonight.”
“Why?”
Evan’s eyes moved toward the road.
There it was.
Fear.
Leo remembered exactly how it felt.
“Someone looking for you?”
Evan did not answer.
Sully stayed quiet.
Leo wiped his hands.
“I’m not asking because I’m calling anybody behind your back.”
Evan studied him.
“You a cop?”
Sully laughed.
Leo pointed toward Sully.
“You think cops usually keep him around?”
Evan almost smiled.
“No.”
Leo continued.
“You’re seventeen?”
Evan nodded.
Leo felt the old temptation.
Fix it himself.
Hide the kid.
Give him a couch.
Tell the world to stay out.
Then he remembered what Angela taught him.
Good intentions were not the same as safe decisions.
“I know somebody you can talk to.”
“No foster home.”
Leo’s chest tightened.
“I said the same thing.”
Evan stared.
Sully looked toward Leo but said nothing.
Leo continued.
“I’m not promising you where you go. I’m promising nobody gets to drag you anywhere tonight without somebody asking what happened first.”
Evan looked down.
“How do you know?”
Leo took the Zippo from his pocket.
Set it on the truck hood.
The skull reflected the parking-lot light.
“Long story.”
Evan examined it.
“What’s that?”
“The first tool somebody ever paid me with.”
“That’s not a tool.”
“It opened a door.”
Sully groaned.
“That was worse than my plaque.”
Leo laughed.
Evan looked between them.