Authors: Terri Blackstock
“You’re right. I was here. He came in here ranting about how she needed to go back to treatment, and when she wouldn’t go, he beat her up and grabbed the baby and took off.”
Barbara almost went through the screen door. “Why are you lying? He’s fifteen! Lance has never done anything to you. No one in our family has ever done anything to you. Lance was trying to help Jordan, because he cares about her.”
“Do I need to call the police again?”
Barbara took a step back and tried a different approach. “Let me appeal to you as a mother. I know you love your daughter. I love my children, and I’d do anything for them. Please—the baby’s safe now, and everything’s okay. Just … please get Jordan to drop the charges.”
“If you want to help your son, teach him to stay out of other people’s business. Now get off my property or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and harassment.”
Gus handed Maureen a business card. “Ms. Rhodes, when your daughter comes home, would you have her call me?”
Maureen took the card and tossed it on a table just inside the door.
Gus took Barbara’s elbow. “Come on, Barbara. Let’s go.”
Barbara would just have to get to Jordan some other way. If she was somewhere in the house, maybe she’d heard her. But she couldn’t count on that. Barbara stalked back to her car. If she really had gone out, maybe Emily’s friends would know where Jordan hung out. Maybe someone at New Day could tell her. She knew Gus wouldn’t consent to beating the bushes for the girl. She’d have to wait for Kent.
She prayed they could still find Jordan before Lance had to spend the night in jail.
T
he holding room at the juvenile detention center was a bright Pepto-Bismol color, though this was the side for boys only. Lance wondered if that was meant to humiliate the tough guys who landed here.
It was a busy night. He stood at the door of his holding cell, watching through the dirty glass as they booked another eight losers. Their cursing shook the place, the cuffs on their wrists probably the only things keeping them from attacking the cops who handled them. Some of them had bloody bruises, and one had a swollen black eye. They’d clearly been fighting. He wondered if they’d all been on the losing side.
He sure hoped they wouldn’t put them in the same holding cell with him. But there had only been three doors like this one when they processed him. If there were only these
holding cells, some of them would undoubtedly end up in here with him.
He backed across the room and sank onto a bench. It was built into the wall — probably so no one could pick it up and throw it. There was nothing in here you could use in a fit of violence. Except fists … teeth … feet …
He raked his hands through his hair. He’d never survive this night.
How do I get out of here?
He wondered if the baby was all right. If she was fed and diapered, if he’d done all the right things with her. He sure hoped he hadn’t made anything worse for her.
Jordan’s mother had probably gone nuclear when she realized the baby was gone. She’d probably threatened Jordan to try to get her back. Jordan would have had to tell the police some story to cool her mother off.
But didn’t she understand what her lies would do to him? Did she even care?
No, of course she didn’t. She was selfish, like all active drug users. She only cared about herself and getting that next high. Whatever she had to do, whoever she had to sell out, however she had to lie, she would. He’d learned all about it at New Day—their need to lie and steal to get drugs to numb the pain. But the lying and stealing led to more problems and more pain, so they needed more drugs to feel better. And that meant more lies and stealing. More problems. More cravings for drugs. It was a vicious cycle that took miracles to break.
The door clanged and scraped open. Lance stood up as the guard ushered three guys in. The one with the bloody lip was first, followed by a kid who looked no more than twelve and the kid with the black eye.
Suddenly he felt like a little mouse in a cage with rabid rats.
“Any trouble from you,” the huge guard told the newcomers, “and I’ll put you in lockdown, you got it?”
The smallest kid had the biggest mouth, and he told the guard what he could do with his lockdown.
When the door clanged shut, all three turned toward Lance. He tried to stand tall, but the kid with the black eye was taller. He wished he hadn’t showered today, that he looked a little dirtier, a little less clean-cut. He hoped his cheeks weren’t burning red. He hated that about himself, that his every emotion burned in full color splotches on his face.
“How long you been in here?” the little one, who happened to look the most dangerous, asked.
Lance shrugged. “About an hour.”
“So are we spending the night here in this cell?” the kid asked.
The big guy shook his head. “No, man. This is just a holding cell. They’ll take us upstairs to the pod.”
“What’s the pod?” the kid asked.
“A cell with a bunch of rooms in it around a circle.”
“So we’ll all be together? Reno will smash my face in.”
“Not if I’m there,” Black Eye said.
Lance wanted to laugh, since it looked like Reno had already smashed all of their faces in. But he didn’t dare.
“Will they keep us separate from them since they arrested them first?”
“Doubt it,” the kid with the fat lip said. He turned to Lance. “What are you in here for?”
Lance swallowed. “For something I didn’t do.”
The three laughed. “No, really. What did you do?”
Lance drew in a breath of courage. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“You got a attitude?” Bloody Lip asked him.
“No.”
The kid took menacing steps toward him. “Whatsa matter? You too good to talk to us?”
“Apparently not,” Lance said, “since we’re all in jail.”
The little guy came closer and slapped his fist into his palm, right in front of Lance’s face. Lance refused to flinch. He was sure he could take this kid if he had to, but not all three of them, and the other two were sure to join in.
And if he got in a fight, he’d probably have to stay longer. It wasn’t worth it. He wondered if that girl checking into New Day this morning had felt this way when he asked her what she was in for.
“Okay, if it means that much to you …” He thought of telling them he was in for ripping the face off the last dude who smarted off to him, but he decided to play it straight. “I’m in for kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping who? A girl?” Bloody Lip asked.
“No, not a girl. A baby.”
They stared at him. “Your own kid?”
Lance knew they’d never understand. “No. A friend’s. I didn’t take it. It’s a long story.”
“You give her money for it?”
Lance stared at the kid. “No, I didn’t give her money.”
“But she was gonna get some, right?”
Lance shook his head, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“She on dope? This girl who had the baby?”
Lance shrugged. “Yeah, meth. Why?”
“Dude in the hood is always looking for pregnant tweakers. Waves drug money in their face. Wads of cash.”
Lance frowned. “For what? What does he want with the babies?”
“He only wants the baby girls. Sells them to some dudes in South America.”
“It’s easy money, man.” The little guy was clearly hopped up on something, and he tore out a laugh. “Dude, wish I could get pregnant. I could use some cash.” He couldn’t sit still and paced across the floor, fidgeting and agitated. The other two sat down, but their knees jiggled.
They reminded him of Jordan. He wondered if they were on meth too. “Who is this dude? The one who sells the babies?”
“Man, I ain’t tellin’ you that. He’d slice me up.”
Lance thought that over. Surely that wasn’t the situation with Jordan. The people waiting for the baby were clean-cut. And Maureen and Zeke had arranged this themselves. He thought back to what the man had said. He’d threatened to call off the whole thing, and Maureen went crazy, begging him not to. Was it possible that money was involved? Was that why Maureen was so dead set on giving the baby to them?
The boys started arguing about the fight that had gotten them there. “I told you not to get into it with them,” the little twerp said. “How can we get out of a possession charge?”
“Hey, you’re the one who called the cops, you moron,” Black Eye said. “There was stuff all over the place, right out where they’d see it. They saw us cookin’! We’re not goin’ down for possession, but for manufacturin’. That’s real bad, man!”
“Hey, I was tryin’ to keep him from killin’ you.”
“I’d rather be dead! Now the cops are gonna score with our stuff, man, and all that money is wasted.”
“Reno would have put a bullet through your brain. He had a gun.”
“You could’ve at least hid our stuff before you called 911, fool.”
Lance winced, certain of what would come next. Instead of jumping on the name-caller, the boy kicked the stone wall, as if he could walk up it. “You call your old man?” he asked the other guy.
“Naw, man. I called Mag.”
“Mag? She can’t bail you out.”
“Ain’t nobody bailin’ me out. My old man sure don’t have no cash.”
“I called my mom. She told me to sit here, that I deserve it. She wouldn’t come.”
Lance thought back to the night Emily had been arrested for a DUI. His mother, who’d been at the end of her rope, had refused to get her out too. Emily had to spend the night in jail.
He hoped she didn’t get the same idea with him. “If it just wasn’t the weekend,” he said. “I have to wait until Monday to get bail set.”
“Man, us too. Two nights in jail, at least. I hate this place!”
“Been here before?” Lance asked.
“Five times,” Black Eye said.
Lance wondered what could make someone do enough to get put in here five times. Once was all it would take him. He was a fast learner.
The little guy backed up and got a running start, then kicked the wall higher, as though he could walk up it like Harry Potter. Then he fell onto the concrete floor, hurting his shoulder.
Black Eye erupted. “Stop it, you idiot! I’ve had enough of you.”
The kid got back up, fire in his eyes. This was going to be bad. Lance glanced at the door, wishing for an escape.
The best he could do was stay out of the way.
I
t wasn’t easy to convince the counselor at New Day to let Barbara see Emily so late. Though Emily would be completely free in just a couple of days, the rigid rules that kept these girls clean and sober still applied to her.
When they finally let her into the rec room to talk to Emily, her friends came with her. Barbara tried not to look frantic.
“Mom, did something else happen to Lance?”
“No, but I need your help. Jordan isn’t home, and her mother wouldn’t tell me where she is. I need for you guys to tell me where she hangs out.”
Emily looked back at one of the girls—a brunette who’d blossomed from a scrawny, unhealthy addict into a beautiful young woman in the last few months. “Karen, you hung out with her. Do you know where she could be?”
“I know a few places,” the girl said reluctantly. She glanced at Emily. “I’ll bet she’s at Belker’s.”
Barbara saw the knowing look on Emily’s face. “Yeah, I bet you’re right.”
“Belker’s?”
The girls all looked at each other, silent. Emily finally met her eyes. “He’s … someone we all knew.”
“A dealer?” Barbara asked.
No one answered, and she knew why. Though they were living in sobriety, they still didn’t want to face the repercussions of ratting out dealers. Breaking the code of silence, even among those who’d escaped the addictive lifestyle, was deadly.
Barbara tried again. “Girls, you all know Lance. He’s a good kid. He shouldn’t be in jail. If you have any idea where I can find Jordan, please—”
“I think I know.”
The voice was nearly inaudible. Barbara turned to see who’d spoken. It was Lindy, a tiny redhead.
“We used to hang out a lot at …” Her voice trailed off as someone came in, and Barbara turned to the door. It was the new girl she’d seen checking in this morning—the girl named Tammy.
Lindy got quiet.
“What, Lindy?” Barbara pressed. “You were saying?”
“I don’t know. I forgot.”
“You didn’t forget. You were about to tell me — ”
“Just that she’ll come around. I know she will. She really likes Lance.”
That clearly wasn’t what Lindy had started to say. Barbara realized that Lindy didn’t yet trust Tammy—and was reluctant to say anything sensitive in front of her.
Barbara looked at Emily, who sent her a look that told
her to stay calm. Maybe she could get the information when she was alone later with Lindy.
Defeated, she went back to her car, praying that God would give her some direction. How could she find Jordan?
It hit her then. The police would have taken the sick baby to the hospital. If Jordan cared about her baby at all, she’d probably show up there.
It was a safe place to confront the girl, and going there was a way to kill time until Kent arrived. Barbara turned her car around and headed to the hospital.
B
arbara found the nursery on the third floor of the hospital. She went to the window and checked out the newborns. Most of the bassinets were empty. The mothers probably had the infants in their rooms.
Farther back from the window were several incubators holding small babies attached to monitors. A young mother and father stood near one, stroking their child and talking softly.
Nurses moved from bassinet to bassinet, seeing to the needs of these tiny charges. Barbara found the door and stepped tentatively inside.
A nurse came toward her. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m a friend of the Rhodes family. I just wanted to see how the baby is.”
“She’s doing better. She’s right over there, in an incubator.”
Barbara looked where she pointed and saw the baby sleeping on her back in a glass crib, attached to monitors. Her little belly rose and fell with each breath. “Her family isn’t here?”