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!”
Chapter 8
Where 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.
Chapter 9
Jordan 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 blo
cked 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.
Chapter 10
The 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.”
She was quiet for a moment, but he knew she was crying, and it made him feel helpless. “In my wildest dreams, I never thought Lance would be in jail. He’s a good kid. He meant to help her …”
“Barbara, just hold on. I’m on my way, okay? Get Lance an attorney immediately, and demand to be present during the interview.”
“I can do that?”
“It’s up to them. But at the very least, you can watch. Don’t let him talk until the attorney gets there. He’s a minor and you’re his mother, so you have the right to demand that.”
“But won’t that make him look guilty? I want him to be able to tell them what happened.”
“He can tell them with the attorney there. Barbara, there’s no hurry. The baby’s in the hospital. Tell him to take his time and wait for the lawyer.”
“It’s Saturday night. What if I can’t get one here tonight? He’ll have to stay in jail, won’t he?”
He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “Probably. But let’s not cross that bridge until we come to it. Do you know somebody you can call?”
“Yes, there’s an attorney at church who’s a good friend.”
“Call him, then.”
He glanced at the apartment’s entrance; the investigators were bringing out bags of logged evidence. “I’ll call you when I have an arrival time. What airport can we fly into?”
She hesitated a moment. “Jefferson City Memorial, I guess. Or Garrison, a smaller private airport.”
“All right, we’ll probably use that one.”
“What do I do in the meantime? Should I stay at the police station? Should I go talk to Jordan? They haven’t told me anything about bail.”
“They have to wait for a judge to decide. The attorney can get some answers for you.” He wished he lived closer. Atlanta was way too far from Jefferson City. “Just stay at the station until you’re sure they won’t let you bond him out, then go home until I call. Don’t go to Jordan’s. Do you hear me? Wait until I can go with you.”
He hoped his coming would make things easier for her. She’d carried too many burdens alone. Maybe they didn’t have a full-fledged relationship yet — not the kind he wanted — but they were friends. He had to be there for her, and for Lance. She was right. Lance was a good kid. Not the kind who deserved a night in jail.
He started his car and pulled out of the parking space. Andy, his partner, tapped on his window. “Where you goin’, man?”
“I have a family emergency,” he said. “I have to take some personal days.”
Andy frowned. “Your brother okay?”
“I didn’t say it was my family. I’ll call the chief on the way to the airport. You can handle this case. It’s a no-brainer.”
Andy chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. When will you be back?”
“When the emergency is over.”
He glanced in his mirror as he drove off. Andy stood with his hands on his hips, watching him drive away. Kent hit a speed-dial button on his phone.
His buddy Blake answered quickly. “Hey, Kent! What’s up?”
“Blake, I need a favor. Can you fly me
to Missouri tonight?”
Blake, who was in the men’s group at the church Kent had been attending for the last year, owned a Cessna 182. He’d just gotten his instrument rating, and he loved any excuse to fly.
“Yeah, I guess I could. Can’t wait till tomorrow?”
“No. Barbara’s having a crisis.”
“Another one? Her daughter hasn’t relapsed, has she?”
“No, not that. But she needs my help.”
He heard the smile in Blake’s voice. “Did she call you and ask you to come?”
“Sort of.”
“That’s good, right? Means you’re important to her.”
“I’m the only cop she knows. Still …”
“You got it, man. I can be there in about an hour. Can you meet me then?”
“Perfect. How long will the flight take?”
“A few hours. We may have to make a stop for fuel.”
“Whatever we have to do. I’ll pay for it all. Hotel and everything.”
“No worries, we’re good. I love night flying. See you then.”
Kent hung up and headed home, quickly packed a bag. Barbara’s tone reminded him of the way she’d been a year ago, panicked and grieving over Emily’s plight. Trying to do what was best for her daughter, she’d hired an interventionist to convince Emily to go to treatment. Then she’d put Emily on a plane to Atlanta with the woman, who’d promised to get her to rehab safely.
When the interventionist was found dead in the parking lot of the Atlanta airport, with no sign of Emily, Kent had investigated the case. He’d met the grieving mother at the lowest point in her life, but her strength and the power of her faith and love had moved him more than any woman ever had. He hadn’t expected to fall for a woman who lived 650 miles away and had two teens, one with so many problems. And it wasn’t fair now that she had to endure another crisis, this time with Lance. If it was at all in Kent’s power, he would help her again.
He got to the airport before Blake, so he sat in his car and prayed. Praying—something he’d never done before he met Barbara—had now become a habit. He hoped God was still listening.