Playing with Fire (5 page)

“My mom thought the same thing.”

“What do you think, Sam?”

“I hate to say it, but I guess we can't deny the possibility that he might have left it there.”

“But Garrett just doesn't seem like the type.

“What
is
the type, Olivia?” I hear the irritation in my voice and wish I could retract it. Still, I get tired of people assuming that anyone who uses is a messed-up, burned-out psychopath. It's just not fair, not true, and I feel defensive of Zach.

“I know…I know…there isn't really a
type.
And I'm not going to head down the loser’ road again, Sam. It's just that Garrett has been pretty vocal against drugs, and he seems serious about school… It just doesn't make sense.”

“But remember how Garrett made that joke about Jack being a woman-hater, saying it was probably because Jack was gay? If you think about it, it could've been an act, like a smoke screen for Garrett's own sexual orientation, to throw us off his trail, you know?” Okay, now I'm playing devil's advocate by pointing the finger at my friend. But a good detective explores all the possibilities.

“But we don't even know for sure that Garrett is gay.”

I push a strand of curly hair away from my eye and let out a big sigh. “You know, the more I think about all this, nothing makes much sense. Maybe we should do whatever it. takes to get this thing cleared up and then just forget all about it.”

“Maybe…” Then we're back at the police station.

“Do you realize we were here less than twelve hours ago?” I point out as I notice the big clock above the receptionist's desk.

“At least we didn't have to spend the night.”

I wave at the receptionist, who recognizes me, then lead Olivia back to Ebony's office. And, okay, I know I'm totally innocent of that stupid meth accusation, but I still feel sort of guilty as we walk down the hall.

“Ebony knows we're coming, right?” asks Olivia.

I nod as I knock on the partially opened door.

“Hi, girls,” Ebony calls out. “Come on in.”

We go in, sit down, and take turns pouring out our story. She asks us some routine questions, looks over our files, which she's obviously already gone through, then tells us that we should have nothing to worry about. “Possession of a controlled substance is a serious charge, but chances are it will be dropped by Monday.”

“That's what my dad said too,” admits Olivia.

“But I just wanted to be sure,” I tell her. “I mean, it's kind of embarrassing being mixed up in all this, especially since I'm sort of working with you now.” I've already told Olivia, in confidence, about being on retainer with the Brighton Police Department. Besides my mom, Olivia's the only one outside of the department who knows about this.

Ebony smiles, and I'm reminded of how pretty she is. Her white teeth almost seem to sparkle against her bronze-colored skin. “I don't think anyone here really believed you were directly involved in last night's bust, Samantha.”

I let out a little sigh of relief.

Then she studies me. “But what about Garrett? Where does he fit into all this?”

Both Olivia and I attest to our belief in his innocence. But even as I defend Garrett, I have a tiny sliver of doubt. I mean, how can we be absolutely certain?

“I'm surprised you didn't invite him to join you here today.” Ebony closes the files and stacks them together.

“I know…,” I say with regret. “I thought about that on the way over, but Olivia and I sort of put this plan together last night. Garrett was still answering questions, and we didn't see him before we went home.”

“I like Garrett, and his foster family seems very pleased with how he's doing, but even so, there's a real possibility he might be responsible for the evidence found in Olivia's car. It wouldn't be the first time a kid who has been emotionally abused sought an escape through illegal drugs.”

“I've considered that possibility too,” I admit, “but I just don't think that's the case.”

“Do you think he'd be willing to have a drug test?”

“We could call and ask him,” I suggest.

“If he gets it done today, it could be used as evidence in his defense and might get his charges dropped.”

“I'll call him right now.” Olivia excuses herself and opens her cell phone.

After she's gone, Ebony asks how I'm doing, and I take the opportunity to tell her about my latest dream as well as my sudden interest and concern over drug use in our area.

“Well, you should be concerned.” Ebony's brow creases in frustration.
“Everyone
should be concerned. The number of addicts in our town is on the rise. The crime rate is on the rise. And I'd estimate that about ninety percent of our crime incidents are drug related. It's costing our community more than anyone can begin to imagine. And yet the average citizens just seem to ignore it, as if it'll simply go away, like a twenty-four-hour flu or a seven-day cold. But the reality is, this problem is more like an epidemic, and before it's over, many people will be affected by it.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know that personally.”

“How is Zach?” She leans over with real interest.

“Last time I talked to him, a few days ago, he sounded really good. Just like the old Zach.”

“Doesn't he come home soon?”

“Next Thursday.”

“That's wonderful, Samantha. But I hope you realize that just because he has completed a ninety-day treatment program, it doesn't mean he's cured.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He'll need to continue treatment. He'll need to keep going to rehab meetings and to meet with his mentor. It'll be up to him to work his recovery program on the outside now. The final outcome is in Zach's hands.”

“Oh…” Now, to be honest, I hadn't considered any of this, and I feel a little disappointed. I guess I just really
wanted to retyrn to
life as normal—the
way it was before Zach ever got involved with drugs.

The fact is that a meth addict isn't considered ‘recovered’ until he's been clean for at least two years.”

I blink. Two years?”

She nods. That's what my brother has told me.”

“He should know.”

“And I'm going to tell you something else that's hard to hear, Samantha…” She pauses as if considering whether to continue or not.

“Yes?”

“Well, in all likelihood, Zach will use again.”

I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach.

“It's tough to hear, but it's the truth. Following a recovery program, most addicts fall off the wagon and use again. But according to my brother, a lot of them get so disgusted at themselves for using that it becomes a reminder that they really want to be clean.”

“But they don't all do this, right?”

“No. There are those who get it the first time.” She frowns. “But they are a minority, Samantha.”

“Maybe Zach will be in that minority. I mean, he's a smart kid. He was raised in a good home. He should be able to figure this out, don't you think?”

She sort of smiles. “Well, let's hope so. But don't be too disappointed if that's not the case, okay?”

I say, “Okay,” but I'm thinking,
No way. Zach won't go back to that crud. He's smarter than that.

“I just talked to Garrett,” Olivia announces as she comes back into the office. “He's willing to do a drug test.” Then she smirks. “Okay, he's not exactly thrilled with the
idea, and he thinks it's totally unfair and that it might somehow infringe on his constitutional rights. But I convinced him that doing this
today
could save him some trouble later.”

“Great,” says Ebony. “I'll have Claudia set it up with him for this afternoon.”

“Do we need to be tested too?” I ask, still feeling bummed about what Ebony just told me.

Ebony shrugs. “It's up to you. But it couldn't hurt.”

And so, just to be safe, Olivia and I both agree to be tested. Ebony goes out with us and introduces us to a large, no-nonsense woman named Claudia that I've seen before. This woman looks like she could play the part of a prison guard for a Nazi internment camp. With a grim expression, she hands us our plastic cups, then escorts us to the ladies’ room, where she makes certain that we “make our deposits without cheating.” It's all very humiliating, and I feel like a criminal as I hand my now-filled container back to Claudia.

“Are you going to supervise Garrett too?”

She gives me a stern look. “No, we have a male clerk who will take care of that.”

“Gee, that was fun,” Olivia says as we exit the station.

“Well, if it saves us some problems later on, it'll be worth it.”

“I'd just like to know who was in my car last night.” She unlocks the doors and looks around as if expecting to see another clue. But as usual, Olivia's car is tidy and clean.

“I guess we can rule out Garrett now.” I get inside and buckle up. “Otherwise he wouldn't be willing to do the drug test.”

“He wasn't exactly willing, Sam. I had to really talk him into it. Mostly he sounded seriously ticked. He's certain Jack planted that bag.”

“Or it could've been a random act of stupidity,” I point out. “I mean, since you left your car unlocked and there were lots of crazy kids at that party, anyone could've hopped in the back and done who knows what while we were inside the house.”

“Ugh!” She glances into the backseat. “I'm going to ask my dad to get my car detailed ASAP!”

I'm tempted to tell Olivia about what Ebony just told me—the disappointing news that Zach might not be totally recovered yet—but I can't bring myself to say these words out loud. Instead, I tell myself that Zach will be different. He will beat this thing, once and for all. And just to be sure, I will be praying for him—regularly and fervently— to do so.

I
heard you got arrested last night,” Conrad says to me I when I answer my phone on Saturday afternoon.

“Hello to you too. And thanks for asking —I'm doing just fine. How about you?”

“Sorry. But I couldn't believe the news when Alex told me this morning, Sam. Did you and Olivia really get arrested when the party got busted?”

So, for like the umpteenth time, I tell my story, ending with, “but it looks like the charges will be dropped by Monday.”

“That must've been exciting.”

“Not as exciting as your basketball game, I'll bet.” Okay, this is a low blow since I already know they lost by a pretty wide margin last night. But, hey he was, asking for it.

“Yeah, don't remind me. I'm just glad it was the last one. I was so ready to be done with it. What a cruddy season.”

“So, we're both in a happy mood today?”

“I'm trying to put it behind me,” he says. “I just called to see if you wanted a ride to youth group tonight. I thought we could grab something to eat first and sort of catch up, you know?”

“Sounds good.” We talk a little more, then hang up, and I go downstairs and find Mom doing something on her laptop in the kitchen. I haven't told her what Ebony said about Zach yet. I'm not even sure I will.

“Are you working?” I ask, not wanting to interrupt her.

“No…” She looks up. “Just ordering a book online.” She punches a key. “There, that should do it.”

I take a soda out of the fridge and pop it open, trying to decide whether I should bring the subject up or not. “What book?” I ask, stalling.

“A new novel by Michael Crichton.”

“Huh? You don't even like fiction, Mom. And Michael Crichton's books are all scientific and stuff. Why on earth would you order that?”

Now she gets a hard-to-read expression, almost like she's embarrassed. “A friend told me about it.”

“A friend?” Suddenly I'm suspicious. “Which friend?”

“Well, you may as well know that I met a guy recently.

My eyes get big. “A
guy?”

“Now, don't go nuts on me here, Samantha.”

“What kind of guy, Mom? I mean, is it anything serious?”

She sort of smiles now, but her cheeks are flushing in a very nonmomlike sort of way. “No, it's not serious, but I do like him. And I'm going on a date with him tonight.”

“Really?”

She nods, then actually giggles.

“Where did you meet him?”

Now she frowns. “I knew you'd ask me that, Samantha. And not that it's any of your business, but Paula and I met him at the Second Street Pub.”

“You've been going to the Second Street Pub? Isn't
that like a twenty-something, meat-market kind of place where people get drunk and hook up and have one-night stands and all that?”

“It might be for some people, but it's also a fun place for us
old-timers
too.” She makes a face at me. “Just because I've passed forty doesn't mean I'm dead, Samantha. I can still enjoy live music and kick up my heels occasionally.”

“You actually
dance?”
Okay, I don't know why I find this so shocking, but for some reason I
cannot
imagine my mom dancing, especially not with some stranger dude. The world is tilting ever so slightly just now.

She laughs. “Yes, I actually dance.” She starts to shake her shoulders and shuffle her feet now. “You want me to show you a few steps?”

I hold up my hands to stop her. “No thanks, Mom. That's okay.”

“Anyway, his name is Steven Lowry, and he's picking me up around seven. If you're here, I'll introduce you to him.”