Vicious Cycle (12 page)

“It does.” She wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Kent. I wouldn’t have even thought of that.”

“He won’t like it. He’ll think they’re singling him out for punishment. He won’t know they’re doing him a favor.”

Barbara leaned her head back. “I know. But still … it’s the best thing. Sometimes things happen to us that seem cruel.” Her voice rasped, and she cleared her throat. “But it’s just that we don’t know the whole story. Sometimes there’s stuff going on that we can’t see … God protecting us … testing us … molding us …” She glanced over at him. “That’s what I tell myself, anyway.”

“I think it’s true. Lance will see that when it’s all over.”

She smiled fully for the first time since he’d gotten here. She was beautiful when she smiled. “You really have gotten to know God, haven’t you?”

“Did you think I made the whole thing up?”

“You just haven’t talked about it a lot. I mean, you told me you were going to church, but that was all.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was using religion to impress you.”

“It does impress me.”

He knew she wouldn’t have considered dating anyone who wasn’t a Christian, so he’d started going to church. Her faith in the midst of trials, her certainty in the depths of desperation, had made him doubt his doubts about God. But once he started attending, he found things he hadn’t expected. A sense of belonging, of hope, and of truth that resonated deep in his soul. Even if their relationship didn’t go anywhere, he would always owe her for that.

“So … I guess you can leave me at the hotel. Tomorrow, I’d like to get started early if that’s all right. It’s Sunday, so the chief probably won’t be in, but I want to try to find him. I need him to give me access to the department’s resources while I’m here. Do you mind picking me up and taking me to the department?”

“Why don’t you take Emily’s car?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s just sitting there. That way you’ll have more freedom.”

“But—what will you be doing?”

When she looked away, he touched her shoulder. “Barbara, look at me.”

Headlights of passing cars lit her face and the tears in her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t want you going to look for Jordan. We’ll look together, okay? I want you to wait for me. Lance will be all right, so you don’t have to rush into anything unwise.”

“But maybe I can catch her—if not at home, then at the hospital.”

“All right—while I’m at the police station, go look at the hospital. But don’t go to her house or anywhere else to
look for her, okay? I know you. Last year, you went to some very dangerous places looking for Emily. Please don’t do that this time. I’m here to help with that. Promise me.”

She smiled. “I promise. I appreciate your caring.”

He kept his hand on her shoulder as she turned into her driveway, and she clicked the garage door opener. The light came on and she pulled in.

She didn’t pull out of his reach. “Thank you for coming, Kent. It’s just like old times, huh?”

He chuckled. Old times meant murder, lost innocence, terror. “Yeah, but what can I say? I’m thankful for any crisis that gives me an excuse to see you.”

She laughed then. “You don’t need an excuse.”

He met her eyes in the car. “Well, it’s good to see you again.”

“I’m really glad you came,” she said softly. “When this happened, you were the first person I thought of to call.”

His chest burned with that knowledge. “I’m glad. I like being needed.”

“People need you all the time.”

“Yeah, if there’s a murder or something, I’m the guy to call. But for anything less than murder …”

“Kidnapping, for instance?”

He grinned. “Yeah, take kidnapping. Nobody ever calls me for that.”

She laughed harder then, and the sound played like a song in his head. He didn’t want to get out of the car. He wanted to just sit here like this, for hours, listening to the lyrical sound of her laughter.

Barbara took his hand that rested on her shoulder and laced her fingers through his. She hadn’t imagined that anyone on earth could make her feel better in these circumstances, but Kent had. “I don’t believe nobody needs you.
You have lots of friends. One guy dropped everything to fly you to Missouri.”

“He loves any excuse to log hours.”

“He seems to think a lot of you.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give me warm fuzzies like you do.”

Again, she grinned. His hand felt good over hers, his rough thumb stroking her skin. She wished he were staying here tonight, sleeping in Lance’s room. But if he did, the neighbors would think something was going on, and she didn’t want that to get back to her kids. It was always better to avoid the appearance of impropriety.

Besides, he did have a hotel room.

“So tomorrow, when we find Jordan and she confesses, how quickly do you think we can get Lance out?”

“That’s a lot of ifs. But I feel good about the possibility that she’ll tell the truth,” he said. “The arresting officer told me that she was having trouble with the accusation. Her mother tried to make her say Lance hit her, but Jordan said he would never do anything like that.”

“Really? She said that?”

“Yes. That tells me she’s conflicted. She doesn’t want him in trouble. If we can catch her away from her mother, I think we’ll get somewhere. And if she does change her story, we can get him out pretty quickly.”

Barbara hoped that was true. She shivered in the cool air and chafed her arms.

“Come here.”

She leaned into him over the console, and he slid his arm around her. His warmth blanketed her.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” he asked her in a soft rumble.

“Actually, I do now, thanks to you. I thought I’d be up all night, but you’ve made the burden a little lighter.”

“That’s my job. Putting women to sleep.”

Maybe it was the endorphins from all the tears or just the relief of knowing Lance was safe. But she found herself laughing again. She laid her head on his shoulder.

When he kissed her, her heart turned to warm wax, sliding into her chest, making her ache. She touched his face, felt the sandpaper stubble. His lips were slightly chapped, but she liked the feel of them. He had his own unique taste, one that lingered.

He pulled back, and she let her hand slide down his chin. Their eyes met and held, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Finally, he whispered, “That was nice. I’ve missed you a lot.”

She smiled, feeling like a teenager. Then she thought of Lance in jail, and her smile faded. What kind of mother was she? She drew in a deep breath and pulled back, but she didn’t want him to think she was turning cold. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. “I just … feel kind of guilty. Making out in the car when Lance is …” Her voice trailed off.

“Lance knows we kiss.”

“I know, but … tonight?”

She saw his disappointment, but he didn’t argue. “Tomorrow, then.” He opened his door, and she took the cue and got out on her side.

She went around the car and stood close to him as she dug through her purse, trying to find the extra key to Emily’s car. She found the key, pulled it out. “The car should be clean.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“All right. Sleep well.”

He stood there for a moment longer, then touched the
back of her head, pulled her toward him, and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Barbara.”

Barbara couldn’t account for the feelings coursing through her as she went in. She watched through the window in the door as he got into Emily’s car. When he’d driven away, she closed the garage door and went into the den.

She lowered herself onto the couch, wondering how it could be that, in the midst of such a trial, she could still have such fierce feelings for Kent. She’d tried for the past year to keep her feelings for him from getting too intense, since their distance apart made it impossible for them to be together often. But that distance hadn’t cooled things at all.

Here she was, thinking of him, when her son was in lockdown in the Juvenile Detention Center. How could she ever have a relationship when her kids were so troubled and so many miles lay between them? She had to be careful and not let her heart take her down the wrong path. Too much was at stake. Even if she got Lance out of jail tomorrow, Emily would be home Monday. Then there would be a whole new truckload of worries.

It was a time for sacrifice, not indulgence.

If only she could make her heart follow her head.

L
ance couldn’t keep a low profile for long, not with Turk sticking so close to him. When the guard outside the glass turned away, Turk’s enemies crossed the room toward them.

Turk rose to his feet, his chin set like he was preparing for mayhem. Lance felt a little sick.

One of Turk’s tormenters took the lead. “We got unfinished business, Turk. You real bad now, ain’t you? Let’s see how you hold up in here with my boys.”

“I’ll hold up just fine, Cash, and don’t count on them guards keepin’ me from rearrangin’ your teeth.”

Lance sprang up. “Everybody calm down, okay? We’re all stuck here, so just chill. Why get yourselves in worse trouble?”

Hate-filled eyes turned on him. “Who are you?” Cash stood a couple inches taller than Lance, but he weighed twice as much and looked like he was pumped up with steroids.

“I’m nobody,” Lance said, refusing to back away. “I’m not in this.”

“Then stay out of it,” Cash sneered. He grabbed Lance’s throat with a tattooed hand, his face inches from him. Lance told himself not to react, just to freeze like he would in the presence of a snake.

Then Turk lunged, attacking Cash’s face like a monkey ripping into a banana. Cash fell back, then rallied and swung. Lance moved away as the other boys whooped and yelled, surrounding the two fighters like hungry animals.

Suddenly the glass pod door slid open, and three guards rushed in, brandishing billy clubs. Lance backed against the wall to let them pass, glad he wasn’t part of the fray. They grabbed the fighters by their collars and wrestled them out the door. One guard shouted for everyone to back off. “I’m throwin’ them in lockdown, and any of you who make trouble can go there too.”

Lance watched through the glass as Turk and Cash were manhandled until they were out of sight. But before they closed the glass doors, one of the guards came back in.

“Covington! Lance Covington!”

Lance raised his hand. “That’s me.”

“Come with me,” the guard ordered.

Lance got to his feet, his heart pounding. Maybe his mother had figured a way to get him out. He followed the guard and the glass doors closed behind him. He hoped he never saw the place again.

“This way,” the guard said. Ahead of them in the hallway, Turk and his sworn enemy were being thrown into lockdown cells.

“Am I getting out?” Lance asked.

The guard grunted. “You’re going to lockdown.”

Lance sucked in a breath. “Me? Why? I didn’t fight. I didn’t do anything.”

The guard ignored him and kept walking.

“Can you tell me why? What did I do?”

“I’m just doing what I was told.”

Tears of rage filled Lance’s eyes, but he fought them back as they came to a door that looked like it was made of iron. It had a tiny window in it and a slot that he supposed was for food trays. The door opened, and he looked inside. There was a metal bench welded to the floor so it couldn’t be moved, and a metal toilet without a lid. That was it. Nothing else.

“Go on in.”

Lance held back. “I left my mattress and blanket in my cell.”

“I’ll bring you another mattress. You can’t have a blanket.”

“Why not?”

The guard wasn’t interested in answering questions. “Come on. It’s almost my break.”

Lance felt the blood rushing to his cheeks again. As frightened as he was of being in there with kids who’d just as soon attack him as look at him, he hated being singled out for punishment.

“Is there a TV? Anything to do?”

“No. Nothing you can hurt yourself with.”

He sighed. “How long do I have to stay in here?”

“Until they tell me to take you out.”

“But … if I don’t know why I’m getting punished, how can I do better?”

“Just shut up and get in there.” The guard shoved him into the room.

Lance stumbled in and looked around. The room wasn’t
any bigger than eight feet by five. “There’s no bed. Where do I sleep?”

“Put the mattress there,” the guard said, pointing to the bench. “That’s your bed.”

Another guard appeared with the rolled-up foam pad they’d given him as a mattress. Lance dropped the pad on the bench and turned back to the door. “Is there anything to eat? I missed dinner, and I’m starved.”

“You’ll have to wait for breakfast.”

“Is there anything to read?” He knew he was pressing his luck, but he didn’t want the guard to leave. What if they forgot about him in here? “No!” The door slammed, its clank echoing.

Lance stared at the door, already feeling claustrophobic in the small, sterile room. He unrolled the pad on the bench and sat down, wondering how he’d sleep on this. The room was freezing. Emily had complained about that when she’d spent the night in jail. She said they kept it cold to keep people calm. That people fought when it was warmer.

That didn’t work here.

This was so unfair. He didn’t even belong here in the first place — and now they were throwing him into lockdown? The boredom was going to kill him.

He sat on the bench and pulled his feet up, wishing for socks. The orange flip-flops were too small for his feet, and his toes were like ice.

He lay down, stretching out on the pad that wasn’t more than a couple of inches thick.

He wished he could turn time back to earlier today, when he’d gone to Jordan’s. He never should have driven Emily’s car without a license. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened. But driving without a license shouldn’t result in lockdown.

He prayed that God would forgive him and get him out of here.

Soon he was bargaining with God, promising to do better, to read his Bible more, to stop the occasional cussing. He’d stop giving his mother a hard time. He’d be nicer to Emily.