Authors: Terri Blackstock
“Somebody at school will miss you. Won’t it get around
that you got in a fight and they picked you up? Maybe a teacher or somebody — ”
“Dude, I ain’t been to school since sixth grade. You writin’ a book or somethin’? You with
20/20?
Actin’ like you’re interviewin’ me.”
Lance grew quiet and thought about all the judgments he’d made before about dropouts. He’d considered them losers. But if you were born into a family with dopers as parents … if your only male role model was a convict in for murder … if nobody woke you up and made you go to school each day … how would you be likely to turn out? Lance went to school because he was expected to. Every morning when his alarm went off and his mother came and said, “Lance, get up,” he was expected to get dressed and go to school. But if that wasn’t expected, if instead the only thing anyone expected was for you to drop out of school and get high and roll in and out of jail …
It was, of course, the kind of life Jordan had. But knowing that wasn’t enough for Lance to forgive her for this.
“Your lip looks bad. Doesn’t it need stitches or a Band-Aid or something?”
Turk touched it, then examined his fingers. “I don’t need anything. Wouldn’t matter if I did.”
The guard came back in, gave them the few supplies they were allowed to have, and told them to get out on the floor. “You’re not allowed in your room until I say, got that? But when I say go back to your rack, you don’t breathe, think, talk, or do nothing but go to your rack. And if I hear anything from either of you, I’ll throw you in lockdown and you can lay there and see how you like that.”
Lance swallowed and said, “Yes sir.”
“All right, out here where I can see you.”
Lance cleared his throat. “Uh … sir?”
The guard speared him with a look. “What?”
“Is it possible that someone could come for me tonight? I mean, to bail me out or whatever?”
“No, it’s not. If there was a possibility of you being bailed out, they’da left you in the holding cell at the county.”
Lance’s heart sank. “What if the charges are dropped? If the girl who accused me finally tells the truth? Could they let me out then?”
“If pigs start flying, we’ll let you know. How’s that?”
His cellmate sat down on his bunk, looking between his knees to his feet. The guard grabbed him up by his collar. “Didn’t you hear me? I said get up and get out there right now.”
For the first time, Lance saw fear on Turk’s face. “Those dudes … they’re gonna jump me.”
“Not if you keep your head down.”
“We didn’t finish the fight. The police busted it up.”
“You finish it here,” the guard said, “and I’ll be the one who wins.”
“Somebody’s gonna wind up dead, man. Might be me. Can I just stay in here?”
The guard had no sympathy. “Nope. Out there. Now. Lights out is in an hour. You can come back to your cell then.”
As they stepped out of their cell, Lance cast a leery glance at the gang members across the room. They watched with dangerous grins as Turk came out. Lance didn’t want to get caught in the fray, so he headed to a corner. He wasn’t here to make friends or enemies. He was just here to wait. His mother would figure something out.
All he had to do was try to be invisible. Maybe if he stayed off everyone’s radar, he would come out of this with a few good stories and no broken bones. But as the gang
members pushed off from their wall and meandered across the room, Turk gravitated toward Lance.
Lance slid down to the floor, sitting on his haunches. “Man, if they’re coming for you, don’t stand by me, okay? I don’t want to fight.”
“I can stand wherever I want.”
Real mature, Lance thought. But he saw through Turk’s bravado. The kid didn’t want to face his enemies alone. Turk was breaking out in a sweat as the leering guys now in the middle of the room called out, taunting him. His face twisted in rage as he stared them down.
“Look, I’ve never been here before,” Lance muttered, “but I’m just thinking that they might not jump you if you quit staring at them like you’re gonna pull a Steven Seagal on them.”
“That’s what I’ll do if they come near me,” Turk said.
“Just chill, okay?”
“I can’t. They’ll think I’m weak.”
“And what good will it do for them to think you’re dangerous?”
“It’ll keep me alive.”
Lance shook his head. When a guard walked in front of the glass doors, staring pointedly, the dudes coming toward them turned away. Lance breathed a sigh of relief.
Turk slid down the wall and sat next to him on the cold concrete floor. “What time did he say he puts us in our cells?”
“The time doesn’t matter, since we don’t know what time it is now.”
Turk tore his eyes away from the gang across the room and gave him a cryptic stare. “Kidnapping, huh?”
Lance closed his eyes. “I didn’t do it.”
“I’m starting to believe you.”
“Good, at least somebody does.” Lance sighed. “Man, my buddies at school aren’t gonna believe this.”
“Where you from?”
“From here.”
“I never seen you before.”
“I probably don’t hang out where you do. I’m in tenth grade at Jefferson High.”
“Man, school is for losers.”
“Losers? You mean people who want to grow up and get jobs they like? Nice, safe places to live?”
“Too many rules. I hated getting up, listening to a bunch of stupid teachers trying to control me.”
“It’s easy. You show up, listen, hang out with your friends. How hard is that?”
Turk’s attention veered back to the gang members across the room. “My boys ain’t in school neither.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you went to school you wouldn’t have time for gang fights.”
The bar was set pretty low for Turk and his buddies. No high school diploma, no chance of college, no prospects of decent jobs or a future. It was almost like these guys were
trying
to make things harder on themselves.
He looked around the room at these boys who were now marked as criminals, wondering which of them were fighting through life virtually alone, like Jordan, who was born into turmoil. No wonder the prisons were full and dope dealers had a booming business.
K
ent didn’t know how he was going to help Barbara, since he didn’t know anyone at the Jefferson City Police Department. But the case with Emily last year had garnered him national attention, even though he hadn’t sought it. After she was found, he was interviewed on most of the major cable and network news programs. Her hometown PD had undoubtedly watched those programs too, and he hoped they’d remember him well enough to be cordial.
As he and Barbara walked into the police department, he said, “Let me do the talking. It would be best if you just sit off to the side. Let me see what I can find out, one cop to another.”
The station was lit with fluorescent bulbs that gave the illusion of daylight to those who worked the graveyard shift. Several cops worked at their desks, either booking arrests
or filing reports. A sergeant who looked like he hadn’t yet adjusted to the night shift sat at a front desk talking to a flustered man whose car had been stolen.
Kent waited until the theft victim was referred to another officer who would take his complaint. Then he leaned on the chest-high desk. “How you doin’? I’m Detective Kent Harlan, Atlanta PD.”
The man frowned as if trying to place the name. “Sergeant Harper. Nice to meet you. What brings you here? We got a case in common?”
“No, nothing like that. I handled the case of a Jefferson City resident a year ago. You might remember—Emily Covington’s disappearance?”
The man’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, and that murdered woman. I knew I recognized you!” He grinned and called across the room. “Hey, Crawley, get a load of this! We got a celebrity here!”
Kent hadn’t expected that. He shot a look back at Barbara, and she smiled and ducked her head. A couple of men came to introduce themselves, and when he had the chance, he said, “Turns out Emily Covington’s brother, Lance, was arrested today. I got to know the family real well while we were working on the case, and Lance is a good kid. Would you mind if I took a look at the police report? I want to see what Jordan Rhodes alleged.”
Less than a minute later, he was at Scott Crawley’s desk, and they were pulling up the info on Lance’s case. He read over the report. There really wasn’t anything there that Barbara’s attorney hadn’t already told her. “The arresting officer, Todd Miles. I’d like to talk to him if he’s still on shift.”
“He got off at eleven, but he never goes straight home. I might be able to catch him.”
As Kent waited for Crawley to reach Miles, he ambled
back up to Sergeant Harper. “Hey, Sergeant, do you know anybody at Juvie?”
“Yeah, I got a couple of buddies there.”
“Listen, do me a favor. This kid, Lance Covington, he’s in school, he’s making good grades, never been in trouble. Not a druggie, doesn’t fight—a dream kid, you know?” Sure, Kent was stretching it a little, but compared to some of the kids this sergeant probably saw every day, Lance was a white knight.
“Yeah?”
“So if you have any pull, see if you can get them to put Lance in lockdown tonight. Just to keep him safe, you know? I think he’s being set up for this. Be a real shame if anything bad happened to him under those circumstances.”
The sergeant leaned closer, looking mischievous. “What’s with you and the kid’s mom? She’s sitting over there pretending like she’s not here, watching you work us.”
Kent grinned, and Harper laughed.
“It’s okay, man, I understand. She’s not bad. And I can see how it came together — I mean, you were the hero who found her daughter.”
“Actually, she found her daughter before I did. But she’s been through a lot. Single mom, trying to do the right thing. Finally gets her daughter clean, about to graduate from a year in rehab, and now this.”
The sergeant stole another look at Barbara. “Yeah, I could see earlier she was pretty upset. She saw the judge and shot through here like a heat-seeking missile.”
“She’s trying to protect her boy. Can you do me that favor? It would mean a lot.”
“I’ll give it a shot. If they have a couple of lockdown cells empty, they might do it.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
As the sergeant picked up the phone, Kent saw Crawley waving him over. “I’ve got Miles on the phone. He says he’ll talk to you.”
Kent took the phone. “Hey, Miles. Kent Harlan here.”
“Yeah, nice to talk to you. I saw you interviewed a couple of times after the Covington case.”
He hoped that would work in his favor. “Did you know Lance is related to Emily?”
“No, not until now. His mom looked familiar, but I didn’t realize it was her. Now, if I’d seen Emily, I would have realized it. Her picture was all over the news for weeks.”
“So who filed the complaint? Jordan Rhodes or her mother?”
“Her mother called first. I responded to the call and found Jordan beaten up … bloody lip, black eye, looking pretty feeble. They told me she’d had the baby this morning.”
“What was her emotional state?”
“Seemed upset. Like any mother whose baby was kidnapped.”
“So what did she say happened?”
“You read the report. I was pretty thorough.”
Obviously, this guy wasn’t a talker. “But did she sound credible? Or did she sound like her mother was coaching her?”
There was a pause. “Her mother was there, trying to help her get the story out.”
“Any coercion?”
“I didn’t think so. Just an agitated mother helping her teenage daughter talk to police.”
“Did they seem high? Disoriented?”
“Maybe, but I didn’t see anything out in the open. I figure things aren’t quite on the up and up if she gave birth at home. It’s not like they’re health fanatics who planned a
home birth. But the story made sense. I figure the kid saw the condition of the house and decided to get the baby out of there. Could even be the father.”
“He’s not the father,” Kent said. He knew he couldn’t be sure of that, but from Barbara’s account, Jordan had just been an addict Lance knew from school, someone he’d helped get into treatment. He’d never given his mom any sign that he’d had an intimate relationship with her.
“I know he says she put the baby in his car,” Miles said, “but who knows which story is true? The fact is, we found him with the baby.”
“You found him in the process of taking the baby to the hospital. Didn’t that tell you anything?”
“Hey, he could have been skipping town for all I know.”
“He called 911 before you showed up. You can confirm that.”
“We’ll do that tomorrow.” There was an irritated pause. “Any other questions?”
“Did you call an ambulance for the girl?”
There was a pause. “I wanted to, but the mother swore she’d take her to the hospital.”
“So let me get this straight. They never said Lance had beaten her?”
“Well … that’s why I didn’t put that in the report. The mother implied it … but Jordan said no, he wasn’t the one. She said he wouldn’t do that.”
That was a good sign. That meant the girl had a conscience, that there was a line she wouldn’t cross. Truth was, Lance would be in less trouble if he had beaten her instead of taking her baby. But a fifteen-year-old girl probably wouldn’t realize the implications of a kidnapping charge.
If he could only find Jordan and talk to her alone, he felt sure he could get her to change her story. He thanked the
cop, and as he hung up, Harper motioned him over. “Good news. They did have some empty lockdown cells. They’re putting him in one. He won’t like it, but he’ll be separated from the population.”
Relief washed over him. “Thanks, man,” Kent said. “Maybe now his mom will be able to sleep.”
Kent managed to convince Barbara that there was nothing more he could do tonight, so they headed back out to her car. As Barbara drove home, Kent explained everything he’d learned. When he told her about Lance being separated from the other juvenile offenders, she burst into tears. “Really? He’ll be safe?”
“He was probably safe before, but this should give you a little peace of mind.”