“We all did. But now the doctor thinks it might be lupus.”
“What’s that?”
He explains that it’s a serious disease that causes low white-blood-cell count and can affect vital organs like the liver and kidneys. “My mom’s taking her to see some specialist in Seattle tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry, Conrad.”
“Yeah, it hit us pretty hard. Some kinds of lupus aren’t that serious, but it sounds like it could be life threatening in her case.”
“I’ll really be praying for her.”
“Thanks. My mom already put her back on the church’s prayer chain.”
Then the warning bell rings, and we head our separate directions to class. As I walk to the math department, I pray for little Katie. First I ask God to get her the best medical treatment available, and then I beg Him to do a miracle and actually heal her. I know God is able to do that. I pray that He does.
By the end of the day, all of Conrad’s friends have promised to be diligently praying for his little sister, but I can tell he’s still depressed. “I just don’t understand why God lets stuff like this happen,” he says as we stand in the parking lot to say good-bye.
I don’t know how to respond to that. So I don’t.
“Katie is just a little kid,” he continues vehemently. “She doesn’t deserve this crud!”
I nod. “I know…”
“Sorry,” he says to me now. “I didn’t mean to dump on you like that.”
“It’s okay…Sorry I don’t have anything encouraging to say. But I do believe that God has a bigger plan, beyond what we can see. And I know He allows hard things to happen…but I also know He can bring good out of them too.”
“Well, I can’t see any good coming out of this.”
“That’s because you’re in the middle of it, Conrad.” I reach out and hug him now. “Hopefully, you’ll see the good when you get to the other side of it.”
“I hope so too. Thanks, Sam.” Then he waves to Alex and Olivia, who are standing on the sidewalk. “I gotta get home, Alex. If you’re coming with me, we better get moving, man.” He turns to me. “You need a ride or anything?”
I point to my Bug. “No, I have my car today.”
So we say good-bye, and Olivia and I get into my car.
“That’s so sad about Katie,” she says as I pull out onto the street.
“I know…It sounds like lupus is pretty serious.”
“Alex said it’s kind of like leukemia.”
“We need to really be praying for her.”
Olivia nods. “For sure.”
Then we ride across town without speaking.
Olivia breaks the silence as I pull up to her house. “In light of Conrad’s sad news, I wasn’t going to tell you this…”
“Tell me what?”
“Alex asked me to the prom.”
I smile at her. “Cool.”
“He feels bad though, like maybe Conrad won’t want to go now…you know, because of this thing with Katie.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say quickly. “I’ll probably be all prommed out by then anyway.”
“I figured you’d understand.”
“Of course.”
And I do understand, but I also feel sad as I drive over to the precinct. I wonder why Conrad and I both have these grownup sorts of things to deal with. Why can’t we just enjoy being regular teens, doing regular things, having fun and not worrying about such heavy stuff? But then I realize I wouldn’t trade my life with anyone. Not really. However, I’m sure Conrad would do anything to trade his circumstances—that is, if he could do it in a way that would make his little sister well again.
“Hey, Sam,” says Eric when I go inside. “How’s it going?”
“So-so,” I admit.
He nods with an empathetic look. “Still on for our date Saturday?”
“Oh yeah…”
“Ebony’s looking for you.”
“Thanks.” Then I head down the hallway to her office.
“Have a seat,” she says as soon as I enter.
“What’s up?”
Her expression is hard to read. “I’ve been hitting some roadblocks in my investigation of Steven Lowery.” She holds up a notepad with his name printed on it. “Is that the correct spelling?”
“Yeah.”
“And you say he works for an investment brokerage in Portland.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, I’m not finding anyone by that name.”
“And?”
“And I’m wondering if that’s really his name.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
So she explains how things don’t seem to be adding up, that he should be licensed as a broker either in California or Oregon. “And based on that, it should be easy to find information on him. But when I plug in his name, according to the description you gave me, I get nothing. And that worries me.”
That’s when I tell her about my mom’s banking troubles.
“When was the last time your mom saw him?”
“I don’t know. I mean, they went out on Saturday. And she called him last night.”
“So he’s still in town.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“And you don’t know where he lives?”
“No…”
“Does your mom?”
“I assume she does…but I don’t know.”
“How about his phone number? Do you have that?”
“No, but I could probably get it from my mom.”
“Do that, Samantha.”
So I call my mom at work, and as I dial, I try to come up with some way I can ask for his number without sounding too suspicious. But she’s out, and I ask the receptionist if I can leave her a voice-mail message. By then I have what seems like a good story—and not completely untrue either.
“Hey, Mom, I was visiting with Ebony just now,” I begin in a careful but casual tone, “and I told her about Steven’s great investment opportunity, and she wondered how she could get hold of him to find out more, but I don’t know his number. Would you mind giving Ebony a call?” I leave Ebony’s number and hang up. “How’s that?”
She smiles. “You’re good.”
Then I tell her about last night’s dream and how I looked for Allen at our school but came up empty.
She encourages me to use their database to see how many Aliens fitting his age and description might be living in the greater Portland metro area. Naturally, there turn out to be a couple hundred teenage boys named Allen, and I feel more lost than ever by the time I quit. Detective work can be interesting, but it can also be just plain hard work. Finally I realize it’s time to go home. I stop by Ebony’s office to see if my mom called with Steven’s number yet, but she’s not around. I don’t see Eric either, and I wonder if they’re out working on a case or have simply called it a day.
As I drive home, I think about my mom and Steven. Should I try to broach the subject with her or simply wait until Ebony finds out something? Then I wonder what I’ll do if Steven is there like, he often is after work. What will I say? How will I act? Finally I decide I should be careful not to let him know I’m suspicious. Still, it would be nice to get a little more information out of him. Like where does he live? Where does he work?
When Mom gets home, I ask her how the banking fiasco is coming, and she admits that she has shoved it to the back burner. “There was a lot going on at work,” she says. “I had my mind on other things.”
“Have you heard back from Steven?”
She frowns. “No, he hasn’t returned my call. He’s probably having a busy day too. Hopefully, he’ll stop by.”
I nod. “Yeah…hopefully.”
Then as I get a soda from the fridge, I overhear her calling him again, leaving another message. When she hangs up, I ask if she got my message at work.
“Yes, just before I came home. I called Ebony and gave her his number. I’m sure Steven will appreciate me finding him more
investors.” She sort of laughs then. “Hey, maybe I’ll get a commission.”
I try to look like this is a possibility, but at the same time I’m wondering how my mother can possibly be so naive. Still, it seems better not to question her. I take my soda up to my room, telling her that I have homework, which is true.
“I think I’ll get a pizza delivered,” she says.
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll call you when it gets here.”
About an hour later Mom announces that the pizza is here. But I’m surprised to see she ordered a big one. “Expecting company?” I ask as I sit at the island across from her.
“I’d hoped maybe Steven would stop by you know, to help me with the bank mix-up.”
“Has he called?” I ask as I reach for a slice.
“No, and that’s got me worried. He usually returns my calls right away. I hope nothing’s wrong with him.”
“Like what?”
“Well, there’s a bad flu bug going around.”
“Have you ever been to his place?” I ask. “What do you mean by that?” She frowns at me. “I mean, have you seen where he lives? Like is it an apartment?” I persist. “Or a house or what?”
“I haven’t been there…”
“Oh.”
“And if you’re insinuating that he and I have been, well, you know…” She gives me a look. “It’s really none of your business.”
“I wasn’t insinuating anything of the sort,” I say defensively. “I was just curious as to how much you really know about him.”
“And why is that, Samantha?”
“I don’t know…but it seems a little mysterious.”
“In what way?”
“So, you don’t know where he lives or where he works, and yet you let him invest money for you. Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”
“I think your job at the police station makes you overly suspicious of people.” I can tell she’s mad now as she puts a couple of slices of pizza on a plate and stands. “And I think I’d rather eat by myself than with a daughter who makes accusations about a man I am seriously involved with. It was bad enough having Zachery turn on me, Samantha, but I expected better from you.” And then she walks out and heads upstairs to her room.
So much for my wonderful sleuthing skills. Now I just hope that Steven doesn’t show up tonight, because I’m pretty sure Mom would tell him what I said. Time to lie low.
Because she has a dentist appointment, Olivia and I take separate cars to school on Wednesday. After school ends, I go straight to the precinct, straight to Ebony’s office, and I tell her the whole story of how I made what Mom called “suspicious accusations” last night, how she got mad at me for questioning Steven, and how she still wasn’t talking to me this morning.
“I really blew it.”
She sort of nods, but her expression is slightly grim.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your mother left Steven’s cell phone number at the office for me,” she says. “I only got to it a couple of hours ago.”
“And?”
“Does the name Greg Hampton sound familiar?”
I shrug. “Not really. Should it?”
“I discovered that the number your mother gave me for Steven is actually under Greg Hampton’s name.”
“Who’s Greg Hampton? A friend of Steven’s?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Want to see some photos I just pulled up?”
“Of Greg Hampton?”
“Yes, or a.k.a. Steven Lowery, whichever the case may be.”
“Huh?”
“I think your mom’s boyfriend may have changed his name a few times.”
It doesn’t take long before I spot a photo that looks exactly like Steven, or Greg, or whatever his name really is. I feel a mixture of relief and shock as I point to it. I’m relieved that I’ve finally been able to identify a person by his photo, but I’m shocked to see that Steven’s real name is actually Gregory John Hampton. Not only that, but he’s wanted in several states for fraud.
“Greg seems to have moved steadily westward,” Ebony points out as she reads the details of the report. “His MO seems to be presenting himself as a successful stockbroker. Nice clothes, nice car, good-looking guy—quite a package.”
“That sounds like Steven, or whatever his name is.” I frown. “What does MO stand for anyway? I mean, I know it means the way a person does something, but what are the initials really for?”
She sort of smiles, but her eyes are troubled. “MO stands for modus operandi, and that’s Latin for ‘mode of operation’— the methods a person uses.”
“Right.”
“According to this, Steven’s MO is to move to a new town and meet a vulnerable woman who possibly has money. He seems to prefer older women and widows. He begins dating them, wins their trust, promises them a great investment opportunity, then cleans them out before he heads on to his next target. As far as I can tell, he started this whole nasty business after 9/11. He targeted a policeman’s widow in New York City. Apparently he has just the right sympathetic touch when it comes to tragedy.”
I sink into the chair by Ebony’s desk as I try to absorb this horrible news. “So he is responsible for my mom’s messed-up finances?”
“That’s my best guess. The big questions are if this jerk is still around and if we can catch him.” She picks up her phone now, quickly dispenses some information, issues an APB for him, and then enters something into her computer as well.
“What about my mom?” I ask weakly.
She nods. “I’m going to go see her myself. I don’t think this is something you need to handle, Samantha.”
“She’s going to be crushed.”
“It’s good that she has you…”
I nod, wondering if that’s how Mom will see it. Or will she think this is somehow partially my fault? I know that seems completely unreasonable, but I remember how defensive she became over Steven last night. Like he was such a wonderful guy and I was somehow disloyal for questioning his integrity. Hopefully, she’ll believe Ebony.
Seven
I’m not mad at you, Samantha!” yelled my mom. Okay, her tone wasn’t exactly convincing. Nor was the fact that she’d been slamming things as she supposedly cleaned up the kitchen, which wasn’t really in need of cleaning—just another sign she was seriously ticked. But I wasn’t about to argue with her tonight. Instead, I slipped off to my room where I planned to lie low until she calmed down—although it appeared that might take a few weeks.
Naturally, she was not the least bit pleased with Ebony’s news. I’m not even sure she completely believes it. When she came home after six, at first she almost acted like this was some kind of conspiracy Ebony and I had cooked up against her. Like we just wanted to make her life miserable. Then she went into this “I’m not mad at you” rage, and I decided to stay out of her hair.
My big mistake was getting hungry, which resulted in me sneaking down to the kitchen. I thought the coast was clear since it sounded quiet, and I wanted to get a little something to eat. But when Mom saw me, she started ranting all over again. So I retreated with my string cheese and orange juice back to my room. Do I think this is fair? Of course not. But just the same, I do feel for my mom. I know she’s hurting and frustrated. Still, as I pointed out, she would be much better off if she could simply give this whole thing to God. He’s the only one who can really sort this stuff out.
At least Olivia proved a sympathetic listener. Aggravated by my mom’s immature reaction to the unfortunate news, I told Olivia the whole story, and she was incredulous.
“Your mom needs a good lawyer,” she told me. “Go after that loser and make him pay her back.”
“Yeah, Ebony pretty much said the same thing. And she definitely will do that, but in the meantime she’s enraged and impossible.”
“I’ll be praying for her,” promised Olivia. “And you too.”
Her empathy was encouraging, but now, as I fee
l somewhat trapped and lonely up here, I decide to call Zach. After all, he may be messed up, but he’s part of this family. And it might encourage him to know that his instincts about Steven were right on.
“No way!” he exclaims after I quickly relay most of the story. I don’t go into all the details of how much money Steven stole from us, since I don’t want to upset Zach too much.
“Pretty unbelievable, huh?”
“I always got a bad feeling from that guy. Remember how he was all over my case when we took the ski trip?”
“Well, to be fair, you kind of deserved it.”
“Maybe…but not from him.”
“That’s true.”
“How’s Mom taking it?”
“She’s in a rage.”
“Figures. You can’t really blame her.”
“So how are you doing, Zach? How’s life?”
“Pretty good. This is a really great place.”
“Fantastic.”
“Good people and good stuff.” He pauses. “I was going to write you a letter, but I guess I’ll just tell you now.”
“Tell me what?”
“I totally recommitted my heart to the Lord, Sam.”
“That’s so cool!”
“Yeah. I can see now that it’s been the missing link all along. There’s no way I can stay sober without God in my life. I need Him.”
“That’s awesome, Zach.”
“I’ve been thinking about Dad lately.”
•Yeah?”
“It’s like I can sort of feel his presence, like he’s nearby or something. Is that weird or what?”
“I don’t think it’s weird. My guess is that as you get closer to God, it will naturally—or supernaturally—make you feel you’re closer to Dad too.”
“Does that ever happen with you?”
“Yeah, actually it does. Lots of times I get this unexplainable reassurance that Dad’s up there…that he’s rooting for us, you know, kind of like he’s cheering us on.”
“Do you think he’s cheering Mom on right now?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“That’s cool.”
“Well, I should probably go,” I tell him as I glance at the clock. “I know you’re not supposed to be on the phone more than five minutes at a time.”
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