Josias was repairing the door to Jeremiah’s room with visible annoyance. The hinges had several loose screws, and he was tightening them with a screwdriver, his movements sharp and impatient.
“Look at him,” Jeremiah said mockingly as he and Wallace entered the hallway. “Maybe I should call the police to report a violation of the home.”
“You say ‘home invasion’,” Josias retorted, turning the screwdriver with enough force to suggest he’d rather be turning it into Jeremiah’s skull.
Wallace studied Josias. The boy didn’t look muscular enough to kick down a solid door. He was lean, almost wiry. How did he do it?
“Hey, kid,” Wallace asked, his tone curious rather than offensive. “Did you really bust this door open with that skinny leg of yours?”
“My legs are plenty strong,” Josias said prou
