Logan came within half a second of saying he didn’t think that was a good idea, but then checked himself. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. While Logan appreciated his father’s interest in Alan’s problems, Harp had the habit of unintentionally getting in the way sometimes. If Barney came along, maybe they could keep each other entertained.
Logan shrugged. “One of you will have to sit in the middle.”
“Not It!” Barney yelled out.
CHAPTER FIVE
They breezed through L.A. but got caught behind a traffic accident in Corona that slowed them to a crawl for about twenty minutes. Finally they pulled into the driveway of Alan Lindley’s house in Riverside, not far from the University of California campus. The neighborhood was old and quiet, the houses probably built in the 1960s or ’70s.
Heat assaulted them as they climbed out of the El Camino. Riverside was on the edge of the desert, and summers could get pretty toasty.
The door swung open before they reached it. Standing just inside was a man in his late thirties. Hugging his leg and peeking around from behind him was a little girl.
“Logan Harper?” the man asked.
“Yeah,” Logan said, holding out his hand. “You must be Alan.”
A quick nod accompanied the handshake.
“This is my dad, Harp,” Logan said. “And our friend Barney.”
“Harp. Barney,” Alan said, shaking each man’s hand. He reached down and hoisted the girl up. “This is Emily.”
“Hi, Emily,” Logan said.
The girl tucked a knuckle into her mouth, then turned and planted her face firmly in her father’s shoulder.
“Come on in,” Alan told them.
He led them through a small entryway into a large, open-plan living area. The furniture was a cross between the new and the old, an eclectic mix that worked well together. On the wall hung a TV playing a cartoon, the one with the sponge character Logan had seen on T-shirts.