Vicious Cycle (26 page)

Kent shook his head. “I’ll do it.” He drew his weapon, just in case, and climbed in through the window.

The house smelled rank and rotten. Dust motes floated on the sunlight beaming in. He stumbled over clothes and towels on the floor, saw blood-stained sheets wadded in a corner.

He went through the house to the front door and let Dathan and one of the uniforms in. Pointing to the rookie, he said, “What’s your name?”

“Agora,” the man said.

“Agora, you stand guard at the door. Log us as we come in and out, and don’t let anybody in. Jordan and Lance, you guys just wait out here.”

They sat on the porch steps, Lance stroking Jordan’s back as she cried into her hands.

Kent turned back to the mess inside the house. It reeked of spoiled food, cigarette smoke, and other odors he couldn’t name. The kitchen sink was full of dishes. Flies clustered over them.

There were lots of places to look for evidence—stacks of papers and garbage bags full of trash. The kitchen table was cluttered with notes and junk mail. He flipped through some of the handwritten notes. “Here … phone numbers. And a deposit slip.” He picked up the slip. “Perfect. A bank account number showing a deposit of $10,000, dated last week.”

Detective Dathan examined it. “Just what we need.” He put it into a paper sack, then looked at the phone numbers. “I’ll call these in and see whose they are.”

Kent flipped through another stack. Mostly junk mail, nothing helpful, until he came to a writing pad with several notations.

$40,000

$10,000 deposit

Newborn—no paperwork

555–1348—Call the minute she’s born—Need immediate delivery

Beneath that was an ad printed out from the Internet, about the “adoption agency” willing to pay “ample expenses” to aid in adoptions. There was another phone number.

“Here’s what we’re looking for,” Kent said, handing the two papers to Dathan, who still had the phone to his ear. Dathan grinned and gave the number to the detective looking the numbers up. Putting his hand over the phone, he said, “The phones were wireless and without GPS, but we’re trying to find out what cell tower they last pinged from.”

Kent nodded and kept looking. That info would only give them a general area where the baby could be. They needed an address, directions, anything that Zeke might have written down.

He hoped he’d find it soon. Once they took Grace out of the area, the odds of ever finding her were negligible.

B
arbara got a coworker, Lily, to drop her off at home, since Kent had her car. As they pulled into her driveway, Emily pulled in beside them. She was alone. Where had she been?

Barbara thanked Lily and got out. She waited on the driveway as Emily got out of her car. “Emily, where were you?”

Emily looked like she’d been crying. “I went to a meeting.”

Barbara frowned. “An AA meeting?”

Emily nodded.

They’d been all through this in the last weeks of Emily’s treatment—whether to encourage her to go to AA meetings or not. Since New Day’s program was a Christian one, their policy was to offer information about AA if needed, but not to insist their graduates commit to going. At its inception, AA had been a God-centered program created by Christian men
who recognized they couldn’t kick addiction without God’s help. But after years of political correctness had rubbed the polish off the program, Alcoholics Anonymous now recognized God as only a “higher power.” Members were encouraged to plug into the Power of their choice.

Though it couldn’t be denied that AA did help many people turn their lives around, she wasn’t sure it was what Emily needed right now. But she had left the decision up to her. The last she’d heard, Emily had planned not to attend.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go to a meeting?”

“I didn’t want to bother you at work. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Barbara set her purse on the kitchen table and turned to her. Emily was clearly distraught. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing.”

“Really? Nothing?”

Emily’s face twisted as tears overflowed. “Okay, everything.”

Barbara pulled out a chair and patted the seat. “Honey, sit down.”

Emily sat and pressed her face into her hands.

“I know being out isn’t like you expected. We never had your welcome home dinner, and we haven’t been home much for you to relax and enjoy your freedom. I know it’s been a letdown, but the stuff with Lance and Jordan was a distraction. I’m really sorry about it all.”

“It’s okay. Jordan’s my friend too. I feel like she’s a little sister. We had to do what we did.” She wiped her face. “Has anybody heard from her?”

“Yes. She came here. She’s with Lance and Kent now. Zeke kidnapped the baby, and they’re trying to find it.”

“Oh, no. Mom!” Tears assaulted her again. “That poor baby.”

“Kent will find her.” Barbara tipped Emily’s chin up. “Honey, what else is wrong? You were crying when you got home. What is it?”

“I’m just really disappointed in myself.”

Fear tightened Barbara’s chest. “Why? Did you do something?”

“No, don’t get all freaked out.” Emily stood up and went to the sink. “I didn’t. I just … can’t stop wanting to.”

Barbara didn’t want to hear that, but Esther’s warnings from Saturday came back to her. “But I thought you said you hardly thought about it anymore. That you didn’t feel the cravings after a year of sobriety.”

“I didn’t—when I was at New Day. I was protected in there. Now there are reminders and triggers everywhere. I know where to get it. And it’s on my mind all the time.”

“Is it from being around Jordan?”

“Not really. It’s from being in the world. In real life. I thought I was farther down the road than that. I called Esther and talked to her for a little while, and she told me to go to an AA meeting.”

Barbara stroked Emily’s hair. “Honey, I think that was a good sign. That you called her when you were craving. You held yourself accountable. You fought the temptation. You didn’t just let it overtake you. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, well, the meeting was disastrous. I saw right away that it was the wrong meeting for me. I just left.”

Barbara’s heart ached. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, Mom. I have to do this myself. I’m just telling you because secrets don’t help anything. I have to keep everything out in the light. I don’t want to pretend I’m doing well
and have it all pile up in me until I break down and use again.” She wiped her face. “I really don’t want to use, and I don’t want to smoke. But there are triggers everywhere, because I used to get high everywhere.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m making a mistake applying to a college so close to home. Maybe I just need to get out of this town.”

Barbara hadn’t expected that. After losing the last year with her daughter, she didn’t want to have her out of reach again. “We can talk about that.” She kissed Emily’s cheek. “When all this is over with the baby and Jordan, we’re going to have a real celebration.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I’m trying another meeting at seven tonight. I met a girl who told me about a better group where people have been sober longer. She invited me.”

Barbara stiffened. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Emily wilted. “No, I’m not. But I need some reinforcement. I know how you feel about AA, but I realize now that I need a sponsor to keep me from getting off-track, and daily reminders that I’m not who I used to be. There are bad groups, like the one I tried today, but if I keep looking until I find a good, solid one, it might be just what I need.”

“Then you should do it. No further explanation needed. The first few months you’re out are going to be tough. But once you get a job and start working, you’ll make friends whose biggest dramas are their boyfriend woes. That’s what most girls your age think about.”

“I know. If only …” Her voice trailed off.

“If only what?”

“If only I hadn’t taken that first hit. I’d be in my third semester of college, and I’d be dating and studying and hanging out with friends. I’d be moving ahead, instead of figuring out where to go from here.”

“You’re still young, honey. You can start over without a blip.”

“I feel old,” she said. “Like I missed years of my life, and I keep thinking about the people I’m leaving behind. Jordan and Paige …”

“Pray for them when you think of them. As for you, remember what they said at New Day. God is good at repaying the years that the locusts ate.”

“I remember. Joel 2:25. But is that true even when we invited the locusts ourselves?”

“You bet. God’s going to show you what that really means.”

She sighed. “I hope He shows Jordan too.”

“That’s up to her,” Barbara said.

T
he detectives were taking too long. Jordan wanted to scream for them to hurry up, that every minute that ticked by put her baby in greater danger. Finally, she got up and looked through the screen door. Kent was still going through the stack of papers on the kitchen table.

“There’s another place she has stuff,” Jordan called through. “Can I come in and show you?” Kent straightened. “Yeah, come in.” She stepped into the filthy house, assaulted by the smells she had grown up with. After being away for a few days, the stale, rotten air made her want to gag.

She led him to her mother’s closet, where more stacks of bills, notes, and journals covered the floor. She had read some of the journals when her mother wasn’t home. They’d
been irrational rants about various men in her life and her fantasies of revenge.

She watched Kent and the other detective go through the papers for a few minutes, then went back into the living room.

Her baby … where was she? Had Zeke already turned her over to them? Would they take care of her? Surely they wouldn’t pay that much money for a baby they intended to hurt. Maybe the police would find her, and she’d still be okay.

But Zeke said they wanted to take her out of the country. What if they already had?

She looked out the front window, across the dismal yard. Lance and the other cop were still on the rickety front porch, talking quietly. What had she gotten her child into? Jordan was no better than her own mother — they had both chosen this vicious cycle of drugs and abuse and neglect. How had she let this happen? How had she allowed her sick brother to kidnap her baby and sell her?

He was driving high, screeching around corners like a maniac. What if he had a wreck and hurt Grace?

Nausea roiled in her stomach, and her head began to hurt. She was weak … trembling … sweating even in the damp cold. She needed a fix.

No. That wouldn’t help. They needed her here, and her baby deserved a mother with a clear head.

But if she just had one hit, her head would clear, and she would feel normal.

She could walk out that door, slip past Lance and the cop somehow, and up the street to one of her suppliers. She could get a hit before anyone even knew she was gone. Besides, if she never came back, little Grace would probably be better off. Jordan had only brought horrors into her daughter’s life.

The moment she let her thoughts head in that direction, the battle inside her ceased. The decision was made. No fighting required. She looked back up the hall to make sure the police were still focused on her mother’s closet. She stepped out the back door onto the creaking steps. Dizziness assaulted her again, but it was only temporary. A little ice and she’d be fine. Back to normal.

She crossed the backyard, kicking through the tall grass, and went quietly around the house, out to the street, the same route she’d taken so many other times, when her mother withheld her own stash from Jordan. It was only a few blocks.

She plodded up the street, her eyes set on the road lined by forest and the houses just beyond it. She couldn’t help her daughter now. She could only help herself.

S
itting on the porch, Lance caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Jordan slipping through the trees toward the road.

“Hey—where’s she going?” he asked the cop guarding the door.

“Got me.”

Lance got up. “Hey! Jordan! What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, just kept walking.

“No way!” Rage shot through him. Crossing the yard, he ran and caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “So what are you gonna do? Just walk away? Right now, when you have a chance to do the right thing?”

“I did the right thing!” she shouted. “I called the police. If anybody can stop Zeke, they can. I can’t do anything for her. So I might as well do it for myself.”

Lance couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re going to get high? Now?”

“You don’t understand,” she said through her teeth, shaking him off and starting down the road again. “Just leave me alone. I told them everything I know. Just let me go.” Her steps were fast and slightly unbalanced. She was breathing hard.

“What about your baby? And your future?”

She swung around, her face a red, wet mass of rage. “I don’t have a future. Why don’t you get that? Why can’t you let go? I’m not gonna change. I can’t even protect my baby. I’m gonna be just like my mother, whether I like it or not.”

“That’s not true, Jordan. You have a choice. You can walk up that road to a meth house, or you can choose freedom.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Freedom? There’s no chance of freedom for me! I’m in prison. I didn’t want to be here, but I am, and I can’t get out.”

“How is getting high gonna help?”

“It helps with the pain! It helps me hate myself less!” she screamed. Her voice echoed through the trees on either side of the road, silencing the crickets and birds calling overhead. Even the wind seemed to still.

She wilted into sobs, and Lance tried to put his arms around her, but she twisted away and lowered herself to the curb, bracing her elbows on her knees. “It hurts, Lance. I lost my baby. I was all she had, and I let him take her. I need to feel better. I’m not like you.”

“It’s not a matter of being ‘like’ anybody. It’s about the choices you make. I’ve had the same opportunities you’ve had to do drugs. I just decided that I wasn’t gonna do that. I wasn’t gonna be that.”