It was a perfect evening. Warm, but for once, not blazing, and the crowds had turned out. The men were mostly inside watching the pregame show and arguing with each other about players and stats. But there were plenty who preferred it outside where the smell of chicken on the grill filled the air. Not him. At least, not right now. He gazed up the driveway into the hodgepodge of cars and trucks up and down the street, troubled by what Doc Ferguson had just told him. He noticed his dad’s big, black pickup cruising the street, and wondered where his father had disappeared to. He pulled into the drive, and James leaned out the driver’s window. “Too crowded back there?” “I don’t see you sticking around.”“Had to go into town for more ice.” He jumped out of the cab and came toward Holt. “So?” He nudged Holt with an elbow and grinned. “What’s bothering you?” Holt smiled back. “You a mind reader now?”“Could always tell when you had something on your mind.” He went around to the truck bed and opened the tailgate.
