Playing with Fire (24 page)

Ebony ‘meets me at the front door and walks me back to the “interrogation” room where Zach is waiting.

“Did you have a nap?” I ask. He still looks pretty sleepy.

“Not a very long one.”

“Me neither. But that's because I had another dream.”

He perks up slightly.

“I think it has to do with Tate, and I'm hoping you can help me with it, Zach.”

“Go for it.”

So [tell him all the details I can remember about this place. The canvas-covered windows, the location that I think was on an alley, the lampposts. He listens with interest, but he seems kind of blank.

“Come on,” I urge him. “Think about it. Did Tate ever take you to a place like that?”

“He took me to a lot of places. I thought we were delivering auto parts.” He laughs. “Man, am I a sucker.” He shakes his head. “Tate must've seen that word stamped right across my forehead. This dude is straight out of rehab, and he is one great big
sucker.”

I shut my eyes and let out a long sigh. “Oh man…you know I feel like that was my fault. I mean, I sort of brought Tate back into your life. He seemed so nice. So together. I remember how I stood there in the grocery store and told him about you coming home from rehab, and he sounded so concerned. I can't believe I invited him to our house.” I clench my fists. “It was like inviting the devil to dinner. I'm so sorry, Zach.”

He looks up at me and smiles. “Hey, you can't blame yourself, Sis. I probably would've run into him sooner or later. Brighton's not that big. Besides, it's like
they say in rehab. Drugs are everywhere. It's up to us to walk away. And I didn't.” Just then he slaps his forehead. “Hey, did you say something about the curtains being nailed to the wall?”

“Yes!”

“There was this place—it was kind of weird—over in the industrial part of town. It was really dark, and I do remember the curtains being nailed down. I asked the dude about it, and he said it was his darkroom. He didn't just work on cars and stuff, but he used the space to develop photos too. I remember thinking that probably explained the smell. But now I'm pretty sure he used that space to cook meth. See, I really am a big fat sucker, Sam. Your big brother is a first-rate idiot.”

“Can you remember where that place was specifically?” I persist. He scratches his head, and before long, he narrows it down to several streets in the industrial area.

“I think it was two story, and the building had bricks on the outside,” he adds. “The kind that have been painted a few times too many. And a big gray metal door that looked new, probably to keep people out.”

“Good,” I tell him. “That should help.” I stand up now. “I guess you can finish your nap if you want.”

He yawns.

“I think Mom will be in later.”

He rolls his eyes. “Can't wait for that show to begin.”

“And just so you know, Zach, she won't be bailing you out anytime soon. We both think you need to just chill for awhile.”

He shrugs. “Don't know that I really care, little sister. I'm thinking this is a pretty cheap rehab program.”

I smile at him. “Yeah, but it's all up to you whether it works or not, isn't it?”

That's right.”

Ebony and Eric are both in the hallway when I go out. Both of them are smiling.

“Way to go,” says Eric.

“I already sent out the description of the building,” Ebony tells me. “People are looking for it right now.”

“Good.” I suppress a yawn.

“You didn't have much of a nap. Why don't you go home and get some rest now?” says Ebony.

“Your mom just got here,” says Eric. “She says she's ready to talk to Zach without ripping his head off now.”

“A real nap does sound good,” I admit. “But you guys must be just as tired as I am. When do you get a rest?”

“Hopefully we'll all rest easy after this is wrapped up,” says Eric. “I'll sleep easier when I know that Tate Mitchell is off the streets.”

“I just hope you get him soon,” I say. “I mean, it seemed pretty dicey in my dream. There's the part about breaking through the window… I'd hate to think he could get away after that.” Suddenly I remember something. I glance at my watch to see that it's one twenty in the afternoon. “But wait,” I say. “In my dream it all seemed to go down at night. It's too early!”

Ebony pulls out her cell phone. “I'll tell our guys to hold off.” She calls the dispatcher and explains the situation. “Make it very clear,” she says carefully. “If they find the place, they are not to go in. Do not stick around. We'll set up a surveillance van. It's likely the suspect is not even
there yet. We do not want to jump in too soon. Is that clear?” Then she hangs up.

“That could've really messed things up,” says Eric.

“Yes.” Ebony nods. “What a tip-off if Tate shows up and sees cop cars crawling all over the place.”

“We're guessing he's switched vehicles by now,” says Eric.

“Yes, he won't make this easy.”

“I can't say for sure,” I tell them, “but in my dream, it seemed like it was pretty late at night since the streets were very quiet. No traffic or anything.”

“The industrial district usually is pretty quiet after dark,” Eric tells me. “So it might've been earlier.”

“Whenever it is, we'll be there,” says Ebony. “Go ahead and take off if you want, Samantha. I think your work here is done. At least for now.”

Eric slaps me on the back. “You really are amazing, girl.”

“It's God, not me,” I say. “But thanks anyway.”

When I get home, I'm tired but not sleepy. And I really want to talk to someone. It's Saturday, and Conrad and his family are on their way to Disneyland. And I suspect that Olivia and her family are probably on their way to Seattle now since their cruise ship leaves tomorrow morning, but I decide to try her cell anyway. She'll be out of range once they're on the ship. Her phone must be off, because I go straight to her messaging. Even so, it's comforting to hear her voice. “Hi, Olivia,” I say. This is Sam. I hope you have a great time on your cruise. We'll have a lot to talk about when you get back. Love you!”

I considered saying more, but it would take so much explaining to really cover the last twenty-four hours of my
life. I sit down at the table and pick up the newspaper. Of course, there's the dreaded headline: Teen Girl Dies of Overdose. They don't disclose her name “until all family members are notified,” but they do give the address of the apartment building. And suddenly I think of Jack. Poor Jack. I have no idea what his cell number is, but it occurs to me that his old band friend, Cameron, should know. And I think I have Cameron's number since he's called me before to reach Olivia. I go back into my cell phone's history, and there it is: Cameron Vincent. I press Send and wait to see if he answers. It's possible that he's off on some wild spring-break vacation too. That wouldn't surprise me. But then he answers.

“Hey, Cameron,” I say. This is Samantha.”

“What's up?”

I sigh. “A lot, actually… Anyway, it probably seems weird, but I'm looking for Jack McAllister's cell-phone number. Do you have it?”

“Sure.” He shoots off the numbers. “But why?”

“Did you see the newspaper…about the teen who died of an overdose?”

“No. Why?”

“That was Felicity Tompkins.”

“No way.”

“Yeah.”

“Man, that's terrible. Felicity was cool. I can't believe she's dead.”

“I know. I feel really bad too. And I know Jack's going to be crushed. He really cared about her.”

“Was he to blame at all? I mean, was he involved in the drug part of it with her?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Not at all. In fact, you might be interested to know that Jack doesn't do the hard stuff. He never has. He was worried about Felicity and what she was doing.”

“You know, I didn't think he was into it that much. But even so, he was pretty stupid to get caught smoking weed at my house.”

“It seems like a double standard,” I say. “I mean, according to Olivia, you guys indulge in it too sometimes— although she told me that you don't do it when she's around. Anyway, it hurt Jack a lot to be let go from the band like that.”

“I can't believe you're taking his side.”

“Jack's a nice guy. I mean, he puts on a tough-guy front, but he's been through a lot.”

“I know…”

“And he's about to go through a lot more, Cameron. He needs some friends right now.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” He sighs loudly. “So you think it was a mistake for me to kick him out?”

“I think you should talk to him about it.”

“And what about Olivia? She's the one who drew the line, and I kinda think she's right.”

“I do too. But I also think you need to talk to Jack. Whether you ask him back into the band or not is up to you. I mean, you could make it clear that you won't tolerate any substance abuse during practices or gigs. But at least give the guy a chance to respond. I think he might be changing, especially after this thing with Felicity.”

“Yeah, that's really tough. Are you going to call him now?”

“That's my plan.”

“Will you call me back and tell me how he's doing, like whether I should call him today or not?”

“Sure,” I tell him. “No problem.”

I hang up and call Jack, and when he answers, I can tell by his voice that he knows.

“This is Samantha,” I say. “And I'm guessing you've heard the news.”

He cusses, and I don't really blame him.

“I just wanted to call and say how sorry I am, Jack. The whole thing just makes me sick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“And if you need to talk…well, I'm here.”

“How do you know about it?” he asks. “The papers didn't print her name or anything.”

“It's a long story, Jack.”

“I'd like to hear it.”

“Want to meet at Lava Java?” I ask.

“I'm on my way.”

“Seeya.”

I call Cameron back and tell him I'm going to meet Jack at Lava Java. “He sounds pretty depressed,” I say.

“Yeah, the more I think about it, the worse I feel. That guy just didn't need something like this in his life. He's been through enough.”

“I know.”

“Tell him I want to talk to him. Maybe he can give me a call after you guys have coffee.”

“Sure.”

Jack is already there when I arrive. He looks seriously bummed. And why wouldn't he be? I get a coffee and go over and sit down across from him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

I take a deep breath and begin my story. I've decided not to tell him everything I know, but I do tell him about Zach being in jail and that we think Tate Mitchell could be to blame for Felicity's death.

“I'll kill him.”

“I know how you feel, Jack.” I take a sip of coffee. “I think I could've killed him myself last night. The guy is a total jerk.”

Then Jack uses a few more colorful words to describe Tate Mitchell.

I just listen, waiting for him to cool down some. “Hopefully he'll get arrested and get what's coming to him.”

Jack just shakes his head. “Life in prison? What's that compared to what he's done?”

“I know…”

“I want him to suffer. I want him to burn in hell. I want—”

“I know you're angry, Jack. I am too. But that's not going to change anything. It won't bring her back, and it'll only make you more miserable.”

He looks at me with red eyes. He's been crying/”So, what then? What do I do?”

I sigh and shake my head. “All I can tell you is what I do, Jack. I have to lean hard on God in times like this. He is the only thing I have to hold on to that makes any sense.” Then I tell him about how I thought my brother had been murdered last night. I tell about the drive up into the mountains to identify the body and how hopeless I felt.

Jack's listening like he understands.

“I mean, here I'd just found out about Felicity—and then I think my brother's dead too. It was overwhelming.”

He nods. “But your brother was alive?”

“Yeah, but I didn't know that for a couple of hours. All I had then was God.”

“Can I ask you something, Sam?”

“Sure.”

“You said you were at the apartment yesterday, right?”

“Yeah. The police were looking for my brother and Tate, and they asked me to help.”

“So, was it like your vision, the one you told Felicity about? Did she really die on a beat-up red couch?”

I just nod. “It was exactly like that.” Then I start to cry, which surprises me because I thought I was surely out of tears by now. “I just wish she had listened to me, Jack. I just wish she had believed me. God was trying to warn her.”

“I know…”

We talk for about an hour, and I know that Jack has a long way to go before he gets over this—if that's even possible. But I encourage him to give God a chance. “What's the worst that can happen?” I finally ask.

“He'll let me down.”

“But you'll never know if you don't try Him first.”

“Maybe…”

Then I tell Jack that Cameron wants to talk to him.

“You talked to Cameron?”

“I needed your number.”

“Oh…”

Then we're outside, going to our cars, and I tell him I'll be praying for him and that he can call me if he needs to talk. “It might not seem like it, but you've got friends, Jack. You know that?”

He sort of nods, then wipes the edge of his eye with a fingertip. “See ya.”

As I walk away, I hope that's true. I hope I'll be seeing more of this guy. I have a feeling God is up to something big in his life, and I'd like to remain involved.