Vicious Cycle (6 page)

“What’s going on with Lance?”

“I don’t know. He’s just acting weird. Napping in his room, which, in itself, is pretty suspicious.” She didn’t see the usual mess he left for her to clean up, except for some milk spilt on the counter and a Walgreens bag.

Maybe he’d ridden with Jacob to the drugstore.

She went to the trash can to toss the bag, stepped on the pedal that made the top come open. Sitting on top of the trash was an open can of Similac. Frowning, she picked it up. “What is baby formula doing in my trash can?” she said into the phone.

“Baby formula?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. An empty can of Similac.”

“I’m drawing a complete blank.”

Barbara sighed. “I’d better go. I need to talk to him.”

She hung up and went to the hallway again, knocked on Lance’s door.

After a moment, he opened it, cracking it only wide enough to slip out. Then he closed it behind him again. “What?” he asked.

“What’s going on with you? Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?”

“No, ma’am.”

That was a dead giveaway. He never called her ma’am. “Then why do you keep closing the door like that?”

“My room’s a mess. I don’t want you to get mad. I’ll clean it up.”

That didn’t fly. Lance’s room was always a mess, and he never cared, no matter how many times she told him to clean it. She brandished the can. “Lance, what is this?”

He took the can, a blank look on his face. “I don’t know. It isn’t mine.”

His ears started to redden, the way they always did when he lied. “Then whose is it?”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

He still kept his voice low, and he looked nervous and kept his hand on the doorknob.

“Did you have someone over today?”

“Just Jacob.”

She stared at him. Why was he lying? She didn’t buy that he didn’t know about the formula, but before she could question him anymore, he went back in and closed his door. She heard the lock click.

Suddenly she heard an unfamiliar sound.

A baby crying.

Frowning, she put her ear against the door. Yes, it was a baby!

She tried to open the door, then knocked loudly. “Lance, what is that I hear? Do you have a baby in there?”

There was no answer for a moment. The baby’s cry grew louder. “Lance! Open this door!”

Finally, the door came open, and she saw her son standing with a tiny, screaming baby in his arms.

“Mom, I know you’re gonna freak out, but I need you to chill. Something’s wrong with her, and I don’t know what to do!”

W
here did you get that baby?” Barbara shouted. “Mom, I’ll tell you everything. Please! Just help me.”

Barbara pushed aside her shock and took the baby, which seemed to be convulsing. She laid her on the bed, examining her carefully.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. I went to Jordan’s to see if she was okay, and there was this big fight. Her family’s all crazy.”

“This is Jordan’s baby?”

“Yes. They were trying to make her give the baby to these people, and she didn’t want to. And while I was arguing with them, she must have snuck out and put the baby in my car. I didn’t see it till I drove off.”

“What were you doing driving?” she shouted.

He started to answer, but she said, “Never mind, we’ll
talk about it later. You’re right, something’s wrong with this baby. We have to take her to the hospital.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“It’ll be faster to just take her. Come on, get my purse.” As she picked the baby up, Barbara saw the masking tape around the diaper. Was that his or Jordan’s handiwork? She wrapped the baby in the towel and headed for the garage.

“Maybe she’s just hungry,” Lance said. “I have a bottle in my room. I tried to give her some but she started jerking!”

“It’s a seizure, Lance. She should have been in the hospital from the beginning. She’s a meth baby.”

They got outside, and Lance opened the driver’s door. “You hold her, and I’ll drive.”

Barbara didn’t want to let the baby go. “Okay. Be careful.”

She got into the passenger seat and pressed the button to open the garage door. Lance started the car and backed slowly out of the garage. “Mom, she wasn’t doing that when I found her. She was okay, mostly. I took good care of her.”

“Why didn’t you call me, Lance? Why would you keep a brand new baby all afternoon?”

“I knew you’d call the police, and I didn’t want Jordan to get in trouble. I don’t know why she hasn’t come to get her yet.” He glanced at the baby. “Is she okay?”

“She stopped shaking. When was she born?”

“Today. She was born at home.”

Barbara sighed. “There’s no telling what’s in this baby’s system.”

As they got to the end of the driveway, the baby began seizing again. Barbara put her in her lap. “She’s doing it again. Maybe we should call the ambulance after all, so the paramedics can take over.”

“Okay, give me your phone!”

He stopped in the driveway and dialed 911.

Almost immediately, there was a siren, and a police car with blue lights flashing pulled in behind him, blocking him in.

“Hello, 911.”

Lance looked in the rearview mirror. “Uh … never mind, the police are here … somehow. But we need an ambulance — ”

“Sir, what is your emergency?”

Barbara looked out the back window as two cops got out of the squad car. Another cruiser pulled up behind the first one. Where had they come from? Barbara got out and called to them. “Help! We need an ambulance for a baby. She’s having a seizure.”

One of the cops jogged up and took the baby out of Barbara’s arms. The other one yanked Lance out of the car and threw him against the back door. Barbara sucked in a breath. “What are you — ”

“Are you Lance Covington?”

Lance looked as confused as Barbara. “How did you know that from me dialing 911?”

Barbara followed the cop who had the baby. “Yes, he’s Lance Covington. What’s going on?”

The officer snapped cuffs on Lance’s wrist.

“Hey, I have a driver’s permit!” he cried. “My mom was in the front seat!”

“You’re under arrest for kidnapping an infant — ”

“What?” Barbara spun around. “No! He didn’t kidnap her! Are you crazy? We were calling an ambulance! He was trying to help her!”

But no one was listening as they read Lance his Miranda rights.

J
ordan stared at her face in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and bruised, and she thought her nose might be broken. Her head was sore and bloody where her mother had ripped her hair out.

She felt like she was going to faint. She hated herself for letting the dragon of addiction catch up with her again, stalking and hounding her, breathing fire into her sleep. She’d been warned by rock stars in songs they wrote about addiction that the dragon’s talons cut deep, and breaking free of him was nearly impossible, but the songs made it sound mysterious and glamorous. That beast scorched the thoughts of every addict she knew.

At New Day, one of the Bible verses they’d drilled into her brain was the one about guarding her thoughts—taking them
captive. But how did you do that when you were the prisoner, when your master had never really let you go?

The craving for meth had become overwhelming. She’d ignored the obvious consequences — that at fifteen her teeth were rotting from her past abuse, that her skin had scarred after years of being covered with meth sores, that her brain was in a constant fog …

A sane person wouldn’t have gone back to that dragon, but she’d never claimed to be sane. She’d sold her sanity years ago when she started down her mother’s path.

She sank down to her bed, unable to look at herself anymore. If her baby was safe, the beating would be worth it.

Her mother had gone ballistic when she realized the baby was gone. After she’d beaten Jordan, Jordan heard yelling in the living room, the man threatening her mother, and her mother begging for time to find the baby.

At first, Jordan had felt a feeble sense of satisfaction that she’d actually done one thing right for her child. But then her mother demanded that Jordan tell where the baby was, and since the beating hadn’t worked, she pulled out another weapon. A syringe full of meth that she would give her … if she would tell her where the baby was, then lie to the police.

Jordan had finally caved. When the police came, she told them Lance had kidnapped the baby right out of her arms.

She’d gotten her shot of meth as soon as the police left, but the high had been short and had done little to numb the pain and worry. What if they arrested Lance? What would they do with the baby? Maybe, with the police involved, she could get the baby into the hands of Loving Arms, the original adoption agency, and they could find her a home where sober people would love her and care for her. Maybe the baby would actually have a chance. Maybe the family cycle of drugs and violence would end with this baby.

But if her mother’s plan worked, the baby would be returned and given to those people who had come for it. She couldn’t let that happen.

Why had she left New Day? She should go back, but now there was so much pain. She needed a few more fixes to get through it. Meth was the only comfort she’d ever really known.

The dragon wasn’t just her tormenter. It was her savior. Her lover. It courted her with memories of glorious highs, and blocked out memories of shame and regret. It flashed hope and healing in her mind. Sometimes it took away the pain, and that was worth any price.

But even as she acknowledged that thought, enemy questions missiled through her. Did it block out memories of an abandoned baby? A friend accused of a horrible crime?

It wasn’t right. Lance had only come because he cared about her. This was how she repaid him?

And the baby—her sweet, nameless baby, with those big trusting eyes that looked right into Jordan, as if she knew her and didn’t even care that she was a worthless slave who couldn’t control herself.

That looked like grace—the grace they’d talked about in rehab, the grace she’d learned about in Bible studies there.

Grace. That was a perfect name for her. Little Grace, who’d done nothing to deserve the family she’d been born into.

Jordan’s mother banged on the door. “They caught your little boyfriend!” she yelled. “And they’re taking the baby to the hospital.”

Jordan went to the door and threw it open. “Was she okay?”

“They said she was convulsing and underweight.”

“I told you she needed to be in the hospital!”

But there was no point in yelling at her mother. It was Jordan’s fault the baby was in that condition. She’d been so high when she was in labor that she’d barely realized it when her water broke.

As she thought of the baby, her breasts began to hurt, and milk leaked through her shirt. The reminder of her failed motherhood made her long for another hit of meth.

But she had to clear her head and tell the people at the hospital what adoption agency she was using and that the baby needed a decent mother and father, not the ones her mother had chosen. The baby’s sickness would buy her some time.

“What about Lance?”

“He’s going to jail,” her mother said, laughing. “Picture that little dirt wad in a cell. Bet his prissy mother never expected that.”

Jordan slammed the door and locked it. She turned her back as her mother banged on the door and screamed about respect.

She needed another fix, just to give her strength. But she wasn’t going to get it here. Her mother was holding out on her, using the drugs to control her.

As Maureen ranted, Jordan opened her window and crawled out again. When her feet hit the dirt, she steadied herself against the side of the house, dizzy. Would she be able to make it several blocks to the motel where she could score? She hurried across the yard to the street. The wind was cool, whipping through her hair. She could do this. Just a few blocks. She walked slowly, her mind fixed on her destination, the place where her friends were as messed up as she was. Someone there would see how bad she was hurting and share.

One more hit … that was all. Then she could live with herself again.

T
he Atlanta crime scene was full of evidence, but even without it, Detective Kent Harlan could quickly close this case. A woman dead from stab wounds, her husband sitting in the kitchen, still clutching the knife that killed her. He’d even confessed, claiming she deserved it because she’d made his life miserable for twenty-seven years.

The CSI techs would gather all the evidence and log it, and Kent would complete the paperwork that would put this case to bed. But it was going to be cut and dried.

His phone rang, and he pulled it out, checked the caller ID. He grinned when he saw Barbara’s name. He stepped out of the apartment and put the phone to his ear. “I wondered when you were gonna call me back.”

He expected to hear a smile in her tone, but instead he heard panic. “Kent, Lance was just arrested.”

“What? What for?”

“Kidnapping!”

For a second he couldn’t process it. Lance arrested for kidnapping? It didn’t compute. Finally, he asked, “Barbara, what happened?”

As she explained everything that had led up to the arrest, he trotted down the stairs to the ground floor and crossed the parking lot to his car.

“Kent, what can I do? They’ve taken him to jail. They’re booking him now. They say that Jordan accused him of taking the baby!”

“She said that? She signed an affidavit?”

“Yes! She knows that isn’t true. She put the baby in his car. Lance is innocent. What are they going to do to him?”

Kent racked his brain for an answer. There wasn’t much she could do, not until the arraignment, but maybe he could do something. “Barbara, I’m coming to Jefferson City.”

“Kent, that’s thoughtful, but — I need help now … tonight.”

“I have a friend with a plane. Maybe he can fly me there tonight. He was going to do it tomorrow anyway if you’d let me come to Emily’s graduation.”

“But what can you do?”

“I’ll know when I get there. But I don’t want you to go through this alone.”