His hair was untidy.
And he looked nervous.
“Logan!” I exclaimed.
“Mom?”
“What happened?”
Before he could answer, Officer Benny gently placed Andrew on the couch and covered him with a blanket.
Then he turned toward me.
“Rachel, your son hasn’t done anything wrong.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did you call?”
Benny looked toward Logan.
“Go ahead, son. Tell your mother.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s really not a big deal.”
Benny shook his head.
“It absolutely is.”
I folded my arms.
“Logan, please explain.”
He took a breath.
“Esta mañana, Andrew quería ir a ver al perro de los Jackson”.
“Rufus?”
“Yeah. He kept asking, so I took him for a walk.”
I nodded.
“We were passing Mr. Henson’s house when I heard something fall.”
I knew Walter Henson.
He was seventy-eight, lived four houses down, and had been a widower for years.
