48
“The boy’s alive, in case you’re wondering,” Luther said when the woman answered the door. “Les is still touch and go, but the boy will be fine.”
“Praise Jesus,” Esther muttered.
Luther rolled his eyes. He didn’t know if she could see it, beneath his hat in the glare of her porch light, but he didn’t care. “You gonna let me in?”
“Luther, this isn’t a good time—”
She didn’t protest when he pushed past her into her living room. He was finding it difficult to breathe. He removed his hat, and used that familiar motion to try to get his temper under control.
“What the f**k were you thinking?” he asked, and felt he’d been mostly successful. “How the hell could you leave them there?”
Esther looked like a different woman fully dressed, even in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Like someo
