Rock and a Hard Place (17 page)

Peter looked at his brothers. Adam enjoyed
the family drama, and Garrett sported a cocky look of superiority.
“Since when do you listen to Garrett? He’s only doing this because
he wants something. He can’t stand to see me happy.”

He turned back to his mother. “You’re wrong
about Libby’s mother.”

His parents exchanged a worried glance.

Peter needed them to understand and to know
the truth about Libby. “Her mother’s dead. She died in a car
accident a couple years ago, so you see, she can’t have a police
record. That’s why Libby’s living in Rockville with her aunt. Libby
isn’t even from Wisconsin.”

His mother looked at him with sympathy.
“She’s told you some tall tales, she wanted you to like her. I’m
sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“
You’re not listening,
either one of you! Libby’s entire family was in the car. Her little
sister died that day too. Libby’s got scars to prove it. After the
funeral her Dad lost it and she got dumped at her aunt’s. It’s not
her fault if her aunt’s a criminal. My God!” He threw his hands in
air, frustrated beyond belief. He looked to each family member
willing them to understand. The regret on his mother’s face, told
him she now understood.

“
Roger got it wrong. Mom,
you never should have let this happen.” Peter shook his head,
walked over to his mother and spoke quietly. “I need to talk to
her, I need to fix this. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking. I
don’t even know how to get a hold of her without going to
Rockville.”

“
No one’s going anywhere,”
his father interrupted, crossing his arms. “The European tour is
about to kick off and we’re behind schedule already.”

His mom rubbed his back. “Don’t worry, we’ll
get a hold of her. It’ll be alright. I know it seems terrible right
now, but you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“
No, I won’t feel better
until I can talk to her and make sure she knows we’re okay.” Thank
God mom understood. He could always count on her in a
crisis.

# # #

That night Libby, wearing a baggy t-shirt,
wandered her bedroom, unable to sleep. She didn’t want to be at
school and now she didn’t want to be here either. When she came
home, Aunt Marge gave her the silent treatment, which was fine. The
acrid stench of pot filled the air. A bag of pot sat on the kitchen
counter like a huge elephant in the room. Libby supposed now that
Aunt Marge’s business dealings were out in the open, she didn’t
feel the need to hide anything anymore.

The evening inched by, a slow torture into
night. More than anything, she wanted Peter. She didn’t care what
Garrett said. In her eyes Peter would always be perfect. She would
love him for the rest of her life.

She broke down and tried to call him, in
desperate hope that Garrett was wrong, but her phone had no
service. Garrett had cut the phone service and as a result Libby
out of Peter’s life. It was over. No going back. This flashy phone
was no more than an empty shell. All the life and love it held now
dark and dead.

Her stomach growled with hunger, but she
didn’t dare go downstairs in search of food. She didn’t trust
herself around Aunt Marge. What she really wanted to do was light
the barn on fire and watch her aunt flip out as she lost the only
thing she cared about go up in smoke.

Libby plopped back down on the bed,
miserable, wishing she could sleep. It was after eleven p.m. and
her body wouldn’t give in. Some freakish adrenaline from losing
Peter consumed her body. She stared at the shadows the moonlight
cast across her room. She tried to block out all the painful
memories. Her Mom cover in shattered glass. Her sister hooked up to
machines that couldn’t save her. Her big strong father crumbling
before her eyes. His car driving away. The memories morphed into
equally painful thoughts of Peter; him singing to her at Parfrey’s
Glen, the way he held her in his arms and his eyes gazed deep into
hers.

A loud crash sounded downstairs. She jerked
up in bed and heard another huge crash, then loud voices yelling.
She sat paralyzed on her bed unsure what to do. Downstairs her
aunt’s shrieks filled the house.

Someone was breaking into the house.

Chapter 16

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and
paralysis turned to action. Libby leapt off the bed, searching the
room for a safe hiding place. The closet held almost nothing and
wouldn’t conceal her; the furniture was sparse with nothing to hide
behind. In unbearable panic she ran to the bed and began to crawl
under it, smacking her chin on the floor and scraping her shoulder
against the ancient frame.

Her bedroom door burst open and two enormous
men rushed in. Their bright flashlights caught her attempt at
escape.

Her heart nearly exploded as she clawed to
fit under the bed. They were on her in an instant. Rough hands
dragged her back out, causing her nightshirt to slide up and reveal
her bare legs and underwear.

“
No!” She screamed at the
top of her lungs, hoping to alert someone, anyone to help. She dug
her fingernails into the threadbare carpet, and kicked out at her
attackers. Pure terror consumed her.

Libby fought their vicious attack with a
strength she never knew she possessed. A heavy boot slammed into
her back, knocked the wind out of her and pinned her to the floor.
Her heart pounded huge loud thunks. Tears streaked her face in
defeat. As she struggled to breathe, the men flipped her over and
blinded her with their bright flashlights.

“
Jesus, Smith, she’s a
kid,” one of the attackers said.

“
Like that makes a
difference,” the other responded.

“
Back off, let her
breathe,” the first voice said.

A set of hands moved away, but the other
kept her locked in an iron grip. The lights left her face and moved
expertly throughout the room.

“
This room’s clear, just
the girl,” an annoyed voice called.

In the moonlit room she saw the shadowed men
look at each other and share an unspoken thought. They hauled her
to her feet, and before she could react, cold smooth metal clicked
tight around her wrist. Her arm was pulled to the head of her bed
where the other end clicked around the wrought iron bar.

Dumbfounded, she looked at her wrist and
back at the men. What the hell?

“
To keep you from running
off.” The dark man answered her unspoken question.

Simultaneously the two giants turned and
left her room. Large white letters were printed on the back of
their coats.

SWAT.

Relief and dread washed over her as she
struggled to take a deep breath. They weren’t here to attack her;
they were here for the pot. She moved her arm and found it securely
locked to the bed. Did they suspect her? With her luck Aunt Marge
would pin the drugs on her. The kids at school would have a field
day with this.

Miss Orman must have reported it. How stupid
of Libby to tell her. Wait a minute. Why would she want to protect
Aunt Marge? She was a hideous person who deserved what she got.
Libby no longer heard her screeching, but could imagine her going
ballistic. A tiny smile lit her face.

As Libby’s pulse slowed to a healthier pace,
she noticed more men lurking outside covertly checking all the
outbuildings as if they were on an episode of CSI. The moonlight
illuminated the yard, revealing how they used hand signals as they
rushed from building to building. As the minutes passed, their
urgency slowed and lights began to appear in the barn.

Jackpot!

Unable to do much else, Libby watched from
her window as the SWAT team took pictures and started moving the
contents of the barn. Had they forgotten about her? It seemed like
hours had passed. She looked out across the fields to Parfrey’s
Glen, at one time her sanctuary, and then, after meeting Peter, her
haven. Would he ever stop there again? No, probably not. She sat on
the edge of the bed, head low. Why did life have to suck so
much?

A few minutes later, a woman startled her
when she walked into the room. Libby never heard her on the
stairs.

“
Hi, I’m officer Decker and
I’m going to take you downstairs to ask you some questions. Do you
understand?” She stood as formidable as a giant oak.

“
Yes, ma’am,” Libby
answered.

“
Stand up, please. I’m
going to move this cuff from the bed to your other
wrist.”

“
Please don’t do that, I
didn’t do anything wrong. Honest,” Libby implored, but obeyed her
instruction.

“
It’s policy. Until you’ve
been released from suspicion, we need to take
precautions.”

# # #

Libby sat in the back of a squad car. She
had never wondered what getting arrested would be like, but now the
experience was forever ingrained in her psyche. She absorbed the
view of massive equipment in the front of the car. The equipment
seemed more useful to fly a jet plane than track down small-town
drug dealers.

Officer Decker turned down the volume on the
police radio, but it still squawked in the background. Tiny red and
yellow lights lit the console. A strong scent permeated the
vehicle, a combination of leather, plastic, and unknown smells
she’d rather not guess at. She sank back into the seat,
miserable.

“
Thanks for your patience,
Libby. I know this has been a long night.” Officer Decker’s
demeanor changed now that the authorities knew she had nothing to
do with Aunt Marge’s pot selling. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone
we can call for you? A friend or neighbor?”

“
Nope. No one.” Her only
friend was Peter and he disconnected himself from her life. What
would she say if she could get through to him?
Hi, you don’t want to be with me any more, but can you save
me from my train wreck of a life?

“
Anyone at school?” Officer
Decker was reaching for someone, anyone to call, but the fact was,
no one existed. Just her dad and they already knew he’d deserted
her.

“
There is one person,”
Libby started. Officer Decker’s eyes lit, her pad open and pen
ready. “My school counselor, Miss Orman, but she’s out of town for
Thanksgiving weekend.”

“
I see.” The officer
appeared disappointed as she closed the pad. Why would she care if
Libby had no friends?

“
Can I go back inside now?”
Despite all the adrenaline from earlier, Libby felt dog tired. She
wanted to collapse into bed and put this awful episode behind
her.

“
I’m afraid that’s not
possible. This is a crime scene and it will be investigated for the
next few days, maybe longer.”

“
Where will I go?” Libby
sat up and peeked through the wire divider protecting the officer
from the dangerous suspects trapped in the backseat.

“
That’s what I’ve been
trying to determine. You’re too old for foster care.” The officer
seemed disappointed.

“
Foster care! What are you
talking about? I’m almost seventeen. I can take care of myself. All
I need is a place to stay until I can get back in the house.” There
was no way they were putting her in some foster home. The only
things she ever heard about foster homes were stories about weird
people who took in kids for the state money and the kids were often
abused.

“
Calm down,” the officer
interrupted. “As I said, you’re too old. Foster care is designed
for younger kids, not older teens.”

“
How soon until my aunt is
out? I’ll be fine until she posts bail or whatever she needs to
do.” Libby didn’t know how she’d come up with money to post bail
and could barely believe she now lobbied to stay with her aunt.
What a strange twist of fate. Now maybe Aunt Marge needed her. How
long should she let her sit locked up before helping her
out?

“
I’m afraid your aunt will
be tied up in the legal system for quite some time. In addition to
growing marijuana with intent to deliver, which is a misdemeanor
crime, she will likely be charged with child neglect and
contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“
Child neglect? Delinquency
of a minor? Come on, I’m fine.” A sense of dread choked her. Things
weren’t so bad here. Didn’t they see how clean she kept her
room?

“
Look at where you’re
sitting right now. A responsible adult would not have put you in
this situation.” Officer Decker pierced her with a knowing look.
Libby slumped against the seat, temporarily out of words to
argue.

The officer turned forward, picked up her
radio and clicked the side button. “Officer Decker at number 4319
County Road T. Need Dell County Social Services for system
placement of a sixteen-year-old female.”

The radio crackled. “Local placement isn’t
possible until after the holiday weekend. You’ll be looking at
transfer placement to a group home in Milwaukee County.”

Libby shot forward, grabbing the metal
divider that kept her from the horrible radio. “What do you mean
group home?” She gripped the thick metal and shook it to get the
officer’s attention. “You can’t send me to a group home. Please, I
can’t go there.” Her dread exploded into full-scale panic. Bad
things happened at those places.

“
Headquarters, have Social
Service contact me on the private line.” The officer glanced at
Libby as she spoke, then replaced the radio piece to the
console.

“
Please listen. My dad
needs to know where I am. If I’m not here, he won’t know how to
find me.” She rattled the divider, wanting to crawl through to the
other side and knock sense into the stubborn woman.