I turned and walked out. Gregor was lounging against his Crown Victoria, and he straightened when he saw me.
“Portia?” He was obviously confused, since Quinton wasn’t with me.
“That…that…” I swallowed the epithet, although it nearly killed me. “Quinton’s in Great Falls. She sent him home by himself. On the bus.”
“Bitch.” He blushed and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I meant to say witch.”
“You had it right the first time, although frankly that’s an insult to female dogs. Let’s go home.”
* * * *
I yanked open the front door of our home in Great Falls and rushed inside. “Quinton!”
“Mother!” He threw himself into my arms.
“You’re all right?” I brushed that lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Yes, I’m fine. Uncle Jeff?”
“I still haven’t heard anything.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”