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You sit Riley at the edge of his bed and squat down before him. You consider your words with great care. What you finally tell him is this:
"Absalom Abrams is dangerous. He's the reason Aunt Cerise got shot."
"He did that?" Riley cries, his voice cracking with anger and horror. His cry alerts one of his mothers -- Aunt Anna, who comes racing down the hall and throws the door wide open.
"Not directly," you say. "But he ordered it."
Riley peers up at his mother. "Is that true? Did Mr. Abrams have Mommy Cerise shot?"
"Wesley," Anna says, her voice low and icy, and more forceful than you ever remember hearing it.
"Is it true?" He repeats.
Anna nods.
Riley takes a moment to process that. His face lights up. "That's why you guys got the FBI after him. You're trying to prove it."
"I think Wesley wants to go now," Anna says.
"It's a dangerous situation," you say. "And complicated. But just remember that we're trying to keep you safe -- and none of us trust Absalom. If you ever see him, don't talk to him. Let one of us know if he approaches you."
Riley nods vigorously. Then he gives you a great big hug. It kinda hurts. Boy's got too much muscle already, and he hasn't even hit puberty. "Be safe too," he says into your shoulder.
You agree and hug him back.
When he finally lets go of you, you stand and try to leave. Anna holds you aside. Her grip on your wrist is way stronger than you ever thought she was capable of. "You have no right," she hisses at you.
You rip your arm away from her. "I don't? You don't. Keeping him ignorant is going to get him hurt. The man who had his mother shot just came to the front door and talked to him like he's Riley's long-lost uncle. Are you okay with that?"
Anna says nothing.
"Didn't think so," you say, and leave.
