Playing with Fire (22 page)

“Are you ready, miss?” asks the uniformed man.

“Ready?” I hear my voice ask. Ebony and Eric are both holding my hands, one on each side, almost as if they plan to catch me when I fall. And I know I will fall. My legs are already shaking.

“Go ahead,” says Ebony. “Let's get this over with.”

We're standing near the head now. The man carefully
peels back the cloth, just enough to expose the face. I stare and stare and I feel confused. Really confused. Then I turn and look at Ebony and Eric, as if I think they can help me.

“It's not him!” exclaims Ebony.

“It's not, is it?” I say.

“It's not.” Ebony turns and looks at me with relief. “It's not Zach.”

I reach out and hug her. “It's not Zach, Ebony! It's not him.”

All three of us are hugging each other as the sheriff replaces the drape over the unfortunate young man's face. His hair, unlike Zach's, is dark, almost black.

“Sorry,” Ebony tells the sheriff. “We can't help you.”

“I don't suppose you know who the fella is, do you?” he asks me. “A friend of your brother's perhaps?”

“I've never seen him,” I admit. “And it's not Tate.”

He nods. “Sorry you made the trip up here for nothing.”

I stare at him. “Oh, no, it wasn't for nothing. Don't you understand? My brother is alive.”

He nods without commenting. I suppose he's thinking my brother may be alive but he's probably a criminal. Well, whatever. I'd rather see Zach alive and doing time… than dead.

I
feel like I'm slowly coming back to life as we drive I toward town. I try my mom's cell phone again, but it's still turned off. Finally I decide to leave a message at our house, telling her why I'm not home. Well, not with all the gory details. I don't want her to freak.

“Where do you think Zach and Tate are now?” I ask Ebony.

“The sheriff said that Tate's uncle's cabin burned to the ground,” she explains. “Just like in your dream.”

“But the guy, the one who was shot in the back, wasn't he actually wearing a denim jacket and Adidas tennis shoes?”

“According to the sheriff.”

“But lots of people wear denim jackets,” points out Eric. “I have a couple myself. And Adidas are pretty common too.”

“Common…but why was that exactly like my dream?” I persist, still trying to make sense of this puzzle. “And why was I so certain it was Zach?”

“But you never saw Zach's face, did you?”

“No,” I admit. “I guess I just assumed it was him.”

“I wonder who that guy really was,” says Ebony. “Zach
and Tate didn't mention anyone else going snowboarding with them, did they?”

“No. But they weren't exactly forthcoming with information. In fact, Zach was getting pretty irritated with me. And Tate actually accused me of stalking him.”

“Oh, my.” Ebony sounds alarmed, and a chill runs down my spine. Am I in real danger?

“We've put out an APB on Tate's car,” Eric says quickly. “We have the description and license, and if that vehicle is spotted, they will be picked up.”

“And the apartment is under surveillance,” adds Ebony. “As soon as we heard about Tate and Zach's incident in the mountains, we got the cops and everyone out of the apartment. Our guess is they're fleeing the burned cabin scene. And it seems only logical that they'll return to the apartment. At least long enough to get their things.”

“And will they be arrested?” I ask.

“Yes, they'll definitely be detained for questioning,” says Ebony. “And it's fairly certain that charges will follow.”

“What if Zach decides not to go to the apartment?” I say suddenly. “What if he tries to come home?” I imagine my mom alone in our house and clueless.

“Good thinking. I'll put your house under surveillance too,” says Ebony as she opens her phone. “For your protection and your mom's.”

I listen as she makes the call. It's weird to hear her giving our home address, then giving Zach's and Tate's names and the description of Tate's car. It's like our little world has tilted sideways, and everything has become strangely skewed.

It's nearly two in the morning when we finally pull into my driveway. Mom's car is there, and the house lights are on, both inside and out. I'm guessing that Mom's still up. I hope my message wasn't too upsetting.

That's the surveillance vehicle,” says Ebony, pointing to what looks like a plumber's van parked one house down and across the street.

Eric hops out of the car, opens my door, and then escorts me up to the house. “You were really brave tonight, Samantha,” he says as I fish out my house key to unlock the door.

Thanks,” I tell him. “I think it was the hardest night of my life.”

“I'm glad it wasn't Zach.”

“Hopefully, he's okay,” I say as I insert the key, but before it even turns, Mom opens the door.

Thank goodness,” she says, pulling me into the house. “Now tell me exactly what is going on.”

Thanks, Eric,” I say as he nods to both of us, telling us to take care.

It takes nearly an hour to tell Mom the whole story. We're up in her room, which feels safer somehow, sitting on her bed, and I am sparing no details. There's no point in protecting Zach anymore. He's already in way over his head. Still, I can tell that she's totally shocked by this news. All color is drained from her face, and her hand is pressed tightly over her mouth.

“I know this all seems unbelievable,” I say to her. “Just hearing myself tell you about this feels more like I'm relaying one of my dreams than what actually happened tonight. It's all been pretty surreal.”

She just shakes her head, still speechless. But now streams of tears are running down her cheeks.

“I don't know what's going to happen to Zach, Mom, but I think we need to be prepared for the worst. At least he's not dead. At least not that we know.”

She finally speaks. “I just can't believe all you've been through tonight, Samantha. And to think I didn't have a clue. Here Steven and I were off at this silly rock concert, acting like teenagers, and you were back here going through all—all of this.” She begins to sob loudly now. “I'm so sorry, Sam. So sorry. I'm —I'm a horrible mother.”

I lean over and hug her now. “No, you're not, Mom.”

I
am, “
she protests. “I leave you home alone to deal with things—things like this—and Zach is out there doing God only knows what. I really am a terrible mom.”

“You're a single mom doing the best you can,” I say, “but you're doing it on your own, Mom. You really need God to help you. I can't imagine how you can carry that kind of load without God's help.”

She sort of nods. “You know, I'm starting to wonder about that myself.”

“When they told me Zach was dead…” I pause to study her face. “I thought about you, Mom. I thought, this is going to kill her too. First I lose Dad. Then Zach. And maybe you. I just felt so hopeless. So totally hopeless.”

“And yet you still believed in God?” she asks. “In the midst of that hopelessness, you still believed in a God who could do something like that?”

“God was all I had in that moment. I was totally confused and scared, but I
knew
that God was there with me. I mean, it felt like all that pain was about to kill me.
I even wondered if God
wanted
to kill me, But despite everything, I knew He was there with me. I knew He wasn't going to leave me. He was my only lifeline, and I didn't let go.”

The room gets quiet for a while, and I can tell she's mulling this over. I also know I could go on and on about God and how much we all need Him. But I think maybe less is more.

“So…what do you think is going to happen with Zach?” Mom finally asks.

“I don't know… It doesn't look good. But at least that wasn't him.” I shudder. “When I saw that other guy…the second dead person I saw tonight…well, it was just so sad. So final.”

“But it wasn't Zach.”

“Zach is definitely in trouble,” I tell her. “But I think Tate is in way more trouble. I mean, since it was his apartment where Felicity died…and his uncle's cabin where that guy was murdered.”

“Do you think Zach and Tate were involved in that murder?”

“I just don't know, Mom.”

“There wasn't anything about that in your dream?”

I shake my head. “My dreams and visions are more like quick glimpses. Kind of like having a couple of pieces to a big puzzle.”

“Important pieces.”

I'm surprised to hear her say this. She's usually down on my “gift.” Maybe something is changing in her.

“Well, it's really late, Samantha. You must be exhausted. Will you be able to sleep?”

I consider this. “I don't know…”

“Why don't you just stay in here for the night?” she suggests. “It's only a few hours until morning anyway.”

I sigh gratefully. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I'm glad that surveillance van is down there,” she says after turning out the light. “I feel a little safer.”

“Me too.” But the truth is, I still have some extremely frightening images in my head. The only thing that makes me truly feel safe is knowing that God is here with us. I imagine myself sleeping in the palm of His hand.

The next morning we awake to the sound of the phone ringing. It's early not even seven. I feel certain this call is about Zach. I sit up, fully alert and bracing myself for the worst, as Mom answers.

“Oh…,” she says with a deeply creased brow. “But he's okay?” She listens for a while, then finally says, “Yes, we'll come.” Then she hangs up and looks at me. “That was Ebony. They picked up Zach a few hours ago.”

I nod. “And?”

“That's about all I know. He's been questioned, but they haven't charged him with anything too serious…yet.”

“Are they releasing him?”

“Ebony said that's not been determined yet.” Mom looks confused now. “They may set bail, and if I post it, they release him to my custody.”

“Don't do it, Mom,” I say suddenly.
“Do not do it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You know I love Zach. You know I want what's best for him. But I honestly think he's safer in jail for now.”

She considers this. “You're probably right.”

So we get dressed, grab a quick bite to eat, then
head downtown where Ebony and Eric are waiting for us in her office.

“He's told us a few things,” Eric begins, “and he
acts
like he wants to cooperate.”

“But he's also trying to make it very clear that he wasn't'totally aware of Tate's dealings,” adds Ebony.

“Tate's dealings?”
echoes my mom.

“We know that Tate has been working with his uncle, distributing meth around the state,” says Ebony.

“It's quite an operation,” adds Eric. “The automotive-parts business provided a nice little cover. But with Samantha's findings and some other evidence, we're shutting them down for good.”

“Chuck Dentón, the uncle, is in police custody at this time.” Ebony glances at me. “And I'm sure he's not too thrilled to learn that his cabin got torched last night.”

“Tate is still on the run,” says Eric. “And we suspect he may have a serious load of meth on him—as well as cash.”

“Does Zach know where Tate is?” I ask.

“He says he doesn't.” Ebony frowns. “But I'm not sure. He's being pretty tight-lipped when it comes to his buddy.”

“Does Zach know about Felicity?” I ask.

“He does now,” says Eric. “He actually seemed pretty shocked.”

“What did he say?”

“He said they'd been partying with her. She'd spent a couple of nights at the apartment; But he swears she was fine when they left yesterday He said she was ‘sleeping it off.’“

“Permanently sleeping it off,” I say in a slightly angry tone.

Eric nods with understanding. “But he did seem genuinely sad about it, Samantha. I don't think that was an act.”

“What about the dead guy we saw last night?” I persist. “Did Zach know anything about him?”

“He said he didn't know a thing, never heard of the guy, never saw him,” says Ebony. “But I still get the feeling he's holding back.”

I consider this. I'm almost certain that the guy had on Zach's jacket and shoes. Oh, I never saw them on him for real, but in that dream…it seemed so real. “Would it be okay if I talk to Zach alone?” I ask. “I mean,
after
Mom goes in, of course.”

“That's okay,” Mom says quickly. “You can talk to him first. It doesn't matter one way or another to me. I don't know what I'll say to him anyway. Right now I'm feeling so enraged at my son's behavior that I'm afraid I'll go in there and tear his head off.”

“That probably won't help him to open up much,” I say.

Ebony smiles. “Maybe you ladies can play good cop/ bad cop. Samantha, you can start out as good cop.”

“Works for me,” says Mom.

“I can take you down there, Samantha,” offers Eric, “if you're ready.”

I take a deep breath. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

Mom turns to Ebony. “Know where I can get a cup of coffee around here?”

“Of course.”

“I think you might be able to get through to him,” Eric tells me as he walks me down a hallway. “Any information you can extract will be much appreciated. We need to get our hands on Tate. The sooner the better.”

I'd like to get my hands on Tate too,” I say.