Losing Gabriel (22 page)

Someone was shaking her shoulder, forcing Sloan awake. She shoved at the offending hands. “F off…”

“Wake up, Sloan. It's important.”

She forced her eyes open. Sunlight bounced through the bus's windows. She squinted through layers of interrupted sleep. “Bobby? I just barely got in bed. Leave me alone.”

“Can't. You got to get up, Sloan. I have to tell you something.”

She groaned but scooted upward in the cramped bed created from two bus seats and a thin foam mattress. “Okay. I'm up. What the hell's so important?”

“Cops are outside. They want to talk to us.”

Still groggy, she pushed a hand through her hair, lifting it out of her eyes and saw that Bobby's face was bone white. He had her attention. “Why?”

“It's about Jarred.”

She went cold all over. “What about Jarred?”

“They found him this morning. He OD'd last night. He
died,
Sloan. Jarred's dead.”

D
eath is messy. Death by an overdose of illegal drugs at a music festival and with police involvement was messier. While RVs, campers, vans, buses, and cars exited the Manchester farm fields, Sloan, Bobby, Hal, and Sy faced the police. Their bus and all their belongings were carefully searched and they were questioned. For a long time. Sloan was numb, hardly able to function. Didn't the cops get it that one of their own had died?

In the police tent, filled with equipment and with the AC pumped high enough to make Sloan's teeth chatter, the band faced the head detective, Carter. He was big and broad-shouldered and looked very weary, with bags under his eyes. “When you kids going to learn that drugs kill?”

The four of them were over twenty-one, not exactly “kids,” but who was going to correct the man?

Other cops stood around, a few who truly looked to be in their teens. They weren't. They were undercover narcs, both male and female, who cruised the festival to confiscate drugs.
They had missed Jarred's buy,
Sloan thought, because the search hadn't turned up any illegal drugs in the Beast. He'd bought his drugs on-site, and after he'd left her standing alone in the middle of the crowds.
Damn you.
She started shaking and Bobby put his arm around her.

“My friend's in shock—” Bobby started, but the big cop ignored him.

“We've had four OD deaths this year, and about thirty who had to be treated so they wouldn't die. All the deaths included ‘dabs,' this year's bad boy of the drug world. Also called ‘wax' and ‘shatter.' ”

“I…I…we don't know about dabs. Never heard of it.” That was Bobby. He looked to the others, and they shrugged. “We're not users. We came to perform.”

“Any of you willing to pee in a cup to test the truth of that statement?”

No one volunteered. Sloan realized the few hits she'd taken last night with her fans would show up. Maybe the others had also smoked, but even at Sy's house, at the all-night parties, they were careful about drugs. They had jobs and some of their employers drug tested.

“Didn't think so.” Carter continued with his lecture. “For the record, dabs is super-potent concentrated oil—THC—pulled from high-grade weed. Gives a super-high.”

“People smoke it in water pipes,” another cop said.

“
Your
pal used it in an electronic cigarette.”

“And it killed him?” Sloan blurted the question.

Carter nailed her with a look. “He mixed it with crack. That's what killed him. And stupidity. As if there's not enough of this drug shit out there, now we got to track dabs.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants, skewering each of them with a cold stare. “You can go for now, but don't leave the site just yet.”

“How long we have to stay?” Sy asked.

“Till I say you can leave.”

Sy's jaw worked as if he wanted to speak, but he kept quiet.

The three got to the front of the tent before Carter called out, “Any of you know how to get hold of his family? A mother and father have lost a son. They should be notified.”

Lani found Dawson sitting out on the patio with a beer and quickly realized that something was chewing at him. She came closer. “Gabe finally zonked out, after I read him three books. I think he's taking longer to go to sleep because it's still daylight at his bedtime.”

“Summer turns around next week. The year's half over.”

Time was flying, but Lani wanted to stretch out the days as long as possible. The summer would be over and she'd have to leave the job. And Gabe. And Dawson.

Dawson shoved a patio chair toward her with his foot. “Join me.”

She sat, staring out on the backyard and a sky stretching rosy pink with a setting sun.

“How's it been having my dad around for the past few weeks?”

Lani propped her feet on a nearby railing. “Fine. He mostly stays in his upstairs office. Comes down for lunch with Gabe. They share notes.” She leaned forward. “Gabe shows him his coloring book and your dad usually gives Gabe some pictures to color he's downloaded from the Internet. Dinosaurs, of course. Oh, and if Gabe and I are doing a project”—she pointed to a row of paper cups on a nearby ledge—“well, Dr. Berke makes a big deal over it. He's a great granddad.”

Dawson stared at the cups. Gabe had told him, “Daddy, I prant widdle seeds” the week before. Now tiny green shoots were poking through the dark dirt. He wished he'd taken better notice. Lani went on to tell Dawson that Franklin took two walks a day and accompanied her and Gabe to the park if they went. Dawson nodded, but thought back to what his father had told him the night before. When Lani said, “I'm surprised he hasn't returned to work yet,” he interrupted her.

“That's not going to happen, Lani.”

“It isn't?”

“Not if he wants to go on living.”

Lani blinked. Dr. Berke wasn't a hundred percent—that was for sure. Since the surgery and his release from the hospital and rehab, he'd lost weight and tired easily. Not the total recovery she'd expected. “What do you mean?”

“Lopez said his heart isn't up to the stress and pressure of the hospital job. He made it very clear to Dad that the surgery and his medications made corrections but couldn't fix the underlying problem—stress. His heart's permanently damaged and he's got to make lifestyle changes.”

“H-he's quitting?”

“Dad's only fifty-two. He can't and won't quit.” Although Dawson was aware of the financial hit such a change would make, it was the hit to his father's psyche and emotions that would damage him the most. Franklin Berke was a doctor. The job was absorbed into him like water into a sponge. Dawson also knew that Franklin held on to the house for Dawson's and Gabe's sakes. He had told his dad last night he'd move, find a better job, drop fall classes, but Franklin would hear none of it.

“What's he going to do? He's an icon at the hospital.”

“He's taking a job at the University of Chicago Medical Center. An old friend on staff there called and offered it months ago, before his heart attack.” Dawson flicked a mosquito from his arm. “He said no at the time but has now agreed. He's moving up next week to find a place and prepare for classes. It seems the Med Center is very interested in his Step-Prep program.”

“It's a fantastic program, but how's that going to be less pressure on him?”

“He's only designing the program, won't have to implement it like he did here. He'll have a staff up there, and he'll also be teaching a few courses to med students. He says he's looking forward to the change, but I'm not sure I believe him. It'll be a huge difference for him. For all of us.”

Lani's heart did a stutter step. “Chicago. What about you and Gabe?”

“He says we're welcome to move up too. I can look for another job, take classes at the University of Chicago. The city's only an hour by air from Nashville. Hope to go up for Christmas, look around.”

Relocate.
Lani felt a lump in her throat, swallowed it down. She reminded herself that her time with Gabe would be over by the holidays anyway. She struggled to keep her voice cheerful. “Chicago has snow. Gabe will love snow.”

Chicago weather would be so different. Dawson hadn't thought of Chicago since…He couldn't remember. He took a long swig from his beer bottle. He had wanted freedom to live his own life, but now that it was staring him in the face…Maybe if he and Gabe had been the ones leaving. Maybe if Franklin was in great health. Maybe if— He gave Lani a sidelong glance. Her profile was etched in a sidelight from inside the house. Maybe if she had never come into his life. Dawson stood abruptly. “I'm keeping you from going home, aren't I?”

“I don't mind.” A part of her felt as if she were at home.

“No. Your day's over. Go do something fun. I'll see you in the morning.”

Fun.
What she had to look forward to was a flurry of texts from Ben about him feeling neglected. She stood, forcing a smile. “See you tomorrow.” She walked through the house, through the front door, and out onto the driveway to her parked car, where she began counting the brevity of all the tomorrows she had remaining with Gabe. And Dawson Berke.