Quarter to six. Fifteen more minutes. She'd give Jared fifteen more minutes, then-then what? Call the police? Call the hospital? "There's nothing to worry about," Ted had assured her an hour ago. "He's almost sixteen." Then, reading perfectly the thought that had popped unbidden into her mind, he grinned. But it wasn't the kind of ridiculing sneer that had so often twisted his lips in the early stages of his binges. This time it was just a friendly grin, and when he spoke, his voice held no hint of sarcasm. "Hey, Jan, come on. He's not me-he's not out getting drunk somewhere. He's probably just hanging out with a buddy or something." He'd put his arms around her then, and nuzzled her hair the way he had years ago. But hadn't for how long? Five years? Ten? So long ago, anyway, that she couldn't even remember. But his breath had no trace of alcohol now, and when she felt his arms around her and he ruffled her hair, the years fell away and it was as familiar as if he'd held her like this yesterday.
