Harp jerked his thumb toward the master bedroom. “On the phone.”

The dining table looked pretty full with the six of them around it. For the first few minutes, they ate in silence, Logan because he wanted to finish and get out of there, and the others because they seemed nervous to talk to him.

Finally, Logan asked, “How’s he doing?”

His dad shrugged. “Sore, but he’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it. What about you?”

Harp touched the bandage on the side of his head. “Going to tell everyone I was in a bar fight. The chicks will dig it.”

That just made Logan want to eat faster.

As he neared the end of his second—and last—slice, his dad said, “Logan, we…uh…want to talk to you about Tooney.”

Damn. So close.

Logan leaned forward. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. If you guys want to lie to the sheriff, then have at it.”

His father’s face scrunched up, his brows dipping so low his eyes became slits. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re not going to say anything. You already promised us that. That’s not what I meant.”

That wasn’t the response Logan was expecting. “Okay, what then?”

Harp looked around the table at the other men, then turned so that he was fully facing his son. “Tooney needs help.” He paused. “And I, well…we thought maybe it was something that you could, you know, do for him.”

 “If he’s in trouble, he should call the sheriff. That’s their job, Dad.”  Logan looked around the table. Along with Barney the retired doctor and Jerry the retired accountant, there was also Alan the retired teacher, and Will the retired scientist. “What in God’s name has gotten into you guys? You’re acting like this is some kind of game. If your friend has a problem, then he needs to gethelp. And if he won’t do it, you need to do it for him.”