“Have a seat,” says Ebony when I join a small group assembled in the conference room. Eric is there as well as some of the others who have been working the prom stakeouts.
“What’s up?”
“Well, we’ve had some good news,” Ebony says.
“What?”
“The terrorists have been caught.”
“Caught?” I blink in surprise. “When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Yesterday morning?” I try to wrap my head around this new piece of information.
“The FBI got a tip from a landlord, and it turned out he was right.”
“How many were there?”
“Four.”
I nod as I try to absorb this. “Wow…that’s great.”
“So everyone thinks there’s no need to go to the prom tonight.”
I nod again, but even as I do this, I feel uneasy.
“What do you think, Samantha?” asks Ebony.
“I’m not sure…”
“I think it’s great,” Eric says. “I, for one, am about ready to have a free Saturday night.” The others echo this sentiment.
“So,” says Ebony slowly, “you’re okay with this too, Samantha?”
Now it hits me. “Not really,” I admit.
“Why?”
“You say the terrorists were picked up yesterday morning, right?”
“Yes. The FBI broke in while they were still asleep.”
“But I had that last vision yesterday afternoon, hours after the terrorists were arrested.”
“Yes?”
“So why would I get another vision—a very specific vision—if there was no longer any danger?”
“I don’t know…” Ebony glances around the group. No one says anything, but I can feel their discomfort as they look away Like maybe they think I’m confused or possibly getting mixed signals, but they don’t want to admit it.
“Is it possible there could be more than four terrorists?”
“I suppose there’s always a chance…”
“But the FBI seized all their computers and things,” points out Eric. “And they seemed convinced that these four were the main threat in this area.”
“Apparently they recently relocated here from Los Angeles,” Ebony says. “All four at the same time.”
“That may be so,” I tell them. “But what if the FBI is wrong? What if there is even one more terrorist? One who is intent on killing high school kids?”
“Then we’d want to be there,” Ebony says.
Eric groans.
“Think about it,” I say to him. “Would you rather be there and be right…or not be there and be wrong?”
He shrugs. “Obviously I’d rather be there.”
“You feel certain about this, Samantha?”
I look around the group, and I know that no one here, maybe not even Ebony, wants to do another prom tonight. I also know I could be wrong. Sometimes my visions and dreams don’t come in what I’d consider a chronological order. But am I willing to chance it?
“Here’s how I feel,” I say to them with conviction. “I plan to go to the prom tonight. And trust me, it’s not like I enjoy these stupid functions. Ask Eric if you don’t believe me.” I glance his way, and he nods to confirm. “But I am not comfortable just stepping away from this thing—not after the vision I had yesterday afternoon after the terrorists were safely under arrest. I cannot imagine why God would give me a vision so specific, so horribly sad, if it wasn’t still meant as a warning. So whether or not you guys go tonight, I plan to be there even if all I do is stand around the lobby and watch.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you do that alone,” Ebony says. And slowly, as if their arms are being twisted, the others agree.
“I doubt, however,” says Ebony, “that we can talk the FBI into being there now.”
“But you will tell them that we’re still going?”
“Absolutely,” Ebony says. “We will treat this event exactly the same as the others. Whether others want to join us will be up to them.”
Still, I feel totally deflated as I head over to Lava Java to meet Olivia. And once again I know that makes no sense. I should be thrilled that the terrorists have been caught. And I am thrilled. But I’m not convinced that the Fairmont students are out of harm’s way yet. Yesterday’s vision is not something I can simply shrug off.
“What’s up?” asks Olivia as I join her.
I quickly give her the lowdown on the arrests of the terrorists and then go up to the counter to order an iced mocha.
“So are you going tonight or not?” she asks when I come back.
“We’re going,” I say in a downhearted tone.
“But you don’t want to go?”
“I do and I don’t.” I slowly take a sip. “For sure, I don’t want to go to another stupid prom. But on the other hand, after that last vision…the memorial…I don’t feel like I can skip it either.”
She nods. “Makes sense.”
I let out a big sigh. “I just don’t get it sometimes.
“What?”
“Why I get stuck with all this crud.”
She kind of laughs now. “What do you mean?”
I hold up my hands helplessly. “Think about it, Olivia. Not only crud with people I don’t even know but my family too. It’s almost like I’m a magnet for trouble.”
She really laughs hard now.
“What is so funny?” I demand.
“You.”
“Why?”
“Think about it yourself, Sam. God sends trouble your way because He knows you can handle it.”
“Handle it?”
“He knows you can do something about it.”
“Huh?”
“Because of the gift He’s given you. He entrusts you with big things, Sam. Because He knows you can handle them. Your gift helps people. It solves crimes, puts criminals behind bars. What is wrong with that?”
Now I sort of laugh. “I guess you have a point.”
“You’re just feeling discouraged because tonight’s prom isn’t all cut-and-dried like you thought it was before. But maybe there’s another reason for you to go tonight, Sam. Maybe God has a different plan. Remember what you said about those sleazy guys? Maybe you’ll say something that will make them think twice before doing something stupid.”
I smile at her. “Yeah, I suppose. Thanks for the encouragement.”
And I try to feel encouraged as I drive home, but I still feel like someone took the wind out of my sails. I’ll be extremely relieved when this night is over. Even if it turns out that I was all wrong.
Eighteen
Wow,” says Mom when I come downstairs dressed for my big night. “Don’t you look hot.”
“Too hot?” I ask with concern.
She winks slyly. “Well, I just hope that young detective Eric doesn’t get any ideas.”
“He’s got a serious girlfriend.” I frown. “In fact, I’m sure he’s ticked at me right now for making him give up another night with her.”
“But this isn’t your fault,” she points out.
So I tell her about today’s meeting and how the terrorists have been caught. “Everyone was ready to throw in the towel…except me.”
“Why’s that?”
I remind her of my latest vision. “And that happened after the arrests. Why would I see something like that if everything was under control? Do you think God missed a news flash or something?”
Mom laughs. “Not really.”
“So I talked them into going tonight, and now I’m feeling kind of guilty…like what if I’m wrong? What if I’m wasting everyone’s time again? This will be the third one, and we’re all pretty sick of it.”
Mom puts her hands on both sides of my face and looks intently into my eyes now. “Samantha, you need to take yourself more seriously You have a very special, God-given gift. And if God shows you something and you brush it off simply because it looks like it might not be right…well, you
will be sorry.”
I blink in surprise. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m your mother!” Then she removes her hands from my face and chuckles. “And because I’ve personally experienced the benefit of your God-given gift, I will never dismiss it again.”
“Thanks.”
“I think I see your ride out there,” she says, nodding toward the front window. “You be careful, Samantha. I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Then she does something that my mom rarely does. She kisses me on the cheek before she tells me good-bye.
Everyone in the limo is somber tonight. No small talk. No making plans. We all know what we’re supposed to do. For a brief moment, I consider apologizing to everyone, but then I remember my mom’s conviction. I remember Olivia’s encouragement. No, I won’t apologize for a God-given gift. If it turns out to be a waste of time again, I will apologize, because that will mean it’s my fault. I got it wrong. As we drive to the Marriott, I pray. I beg God to show me if this is a mistake. Then I beg Him to protect my friends in the car as well as the students at the prom. I beg Him to bring this thing to a good conclusion.
Eric doesn’t say much as we go into the hotel and to the prom. We’re not quite as early as we were for the other two proms, but there’s hardly anyone here. I think this must be related to the rich kid thing. They probably think it’s ultracool to arrive very late.
“I’m sorry you have to give up another Saturday night,” I finally tell him as we’re sitting in the lobby, pretending to be absorbed by one another as we sip our punch. “But I’m not sorry that I’m standing by what I believe God showed me.”
Eric gives me a little half smile. “Am I acting like a spoiled brat?”
“No…but I do understand. I don’t really enjoy this either.” Just as I’m saying this, I notice something. “Hey,” I tell him, “look who’s over there.”
Eric glances over to where Brandon is standing at the reception desk again. He’s dressed about the same as always, so obviously he’s not here for the prom, and he’s got his backpack.
“He’s probably working tonight.” Eric looks back at me.
“Kind of sad, isn’t it? I mean, to have to work in the same place where your classmates are partying at their prom?”
He nods. “Yeah. And just in case anyone wants to look into it,” Eric says for Ebony’s sake, “we have spotted Brandon Allen heading for what we’re guessing is work.”
“And keep an eye on that laundry room,” I add as I remember my vision of Brandon hiding in the towel cart. Ebony already did some investigating of the work situation here, but she said that nothing unusual surfaced in regard to Brandon. According to the manager, all the employees seem to get along just fine.
Then I tell Eric about the high school counselor’s attitude toward bullying, and he just shakes his head.
They’re in denial,” he says. “Everyone thinks their school is above that sort of thing…or that’s the act they put on so that if something does happens, they can pretend they didn’t see it coming.”
“Too bad.” My heart goes out to Brandon as I watch him walking, his head hanging down in a dejected sort of way as he goes through the same side door he used last time. How would it feel to be in his shoes?
Then I tell Eric about my short conversation with Brandon. “I tried to connect with him as someone who’s been bullied too.”
“Did it work?”
I nod. “Sort of. But he was kind of in denial too. He said there was no point in reporting bullying, that it just makes things worse.”
“That might be true in some cases.”
“Unless the school adopts a policy. That might change things.”
“Hey,” says Eric suddenly “Girl in a pale green dress entering the hotel.”
I casually turn around to see that he’s right. It is Leah Weis and friends. She looks like she’s the belle of the ball as a group of couples walk through the foyer and pause in the lobby. And suddenly it hits me. Tonight’s decorations are a little fancier than the previous proms. And someone has strung white lights all around—just like in my original dream. I feel a chill rush through me, and I think this is going to be the real deal tonight.
“You okay?” asks Eric.
“This feels like the night.” I quickly stand and glance around, trying not to look too suspicious. ‘The real deal.”
He stands and takes my elbow in his hand. “So tell me, what’s up?”
I quickly explain about the lights and the feeling I just got.
“You got that, people?” he says in a tone that’s meant for Ebony and the others. “We’re on high alert in here.” He looks at me again. “What’s next?”
“Let’s just stay with that particular group,” I suggest, glancing over his shoulder to the couples who’ve just arrived. “You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.”
“You got it.”
Trying not to be conspicuous, we sort of meander and follow the group toward the entrance to the prom, casually standing on the sidelines as the couples take turns having photos made. All the while, Eric and I watch everything, and already I can see Ebony and the others at their posts watching intently too. Eventually the group of couples enters the prom, and I can breathe a little more easily for now. For some reason I think they are safer in there. I guess it’s because of my original dream—the white lights and marble floor.
“Still feel like this is the big night?” asks Eric with a smile that completely covers the seriousness of this conversation.
“I feel like something is definitely up.”
“Let’s stay with Leah and her friend,” he suggests as the couple steps onto the dance floor. “But not too obviously.”
“Sounds good.”
So for the next few dances, we keep Leah and her date in our scopes. We now know that Leah’s date is Tyler Morris, one of the guys I overheard in the lunch line yesterday. And his friends are the dates of Leah’s friends. Of course, this doesn’t surprise me. Then the couples take a break from the dance floor and head for the refreshment area. We keep a safe distance and continue to try to be inconspicuous as we follow.
This goes on for nearly an hour, a very long and uneventful hour. Is it possible I’m wrong? Maybe all the terrorists have been arrested and no one is in danger tonight. And yet…something keeps nagging at me. Something—I think it’s God—keeps telling me to remain on high alert. Do not let up. Keep your eyes and ears open. Stay tuned in.
“Leah and her friends look like they’re heading to the ladies’ room,” I point out as I see them gathering the way girls do as they’re about to make a group exit. “I’m going to stay with them.”
“Be safe,” Eric tells me. Then for the sake of our surveillance buddies, he adds, “While you’re in the rest room with the other girls.”
I casually stroll across the floor, staying less than twenty feet behind the girls as I follow them into the rest room. A couple of them go into stalls, and the others simply check and touch up their makeup and hair. Feeling conspicuous, I go into a stall, close the door, and just listen.
“Tyler is making such a big deal about getting a room,” says a voice that must belong to Leah. “Like he thinks that means I’m going to put out.” She laughs.
“They’re all acting like a bunch of sex-crazed maniacs tonight,” says another girl. “I think we should consider ditching them as soon as the prom ends.”
More laughter. Then they discuss hiring a taxi to take them home. But some of the girls aren’t so sure. They seem worried that they might lose their boyfriends. “Edmond will freak if I pull a stunt like this,” says one girl.
“Let him freak,” suggests Leah. “He doesn’t own you, Grace.”
Then I can hear them leaving. I flush the toilet for effect, and after they’re gone, I quickly exit behind them, not letting them out of my sight. I carefully look all around as I walk behind them, but nothing seems to be out of the
ordinary. I vaguely wonder about Brandon…and the laundry room. But compared to the danger potential here and now, Brandon’s problems seem minor and far away. Something I can deal with later.
As I trail the girls through the lobby, I’m still convinced this is where it will happen—right here in this very lobby. That is, if it happens. If my dreams and visions were right. And suddenly I hope they’re not. I actually hope I’m wrong. Because everything about tonight—the white lights, the marble floor, and particularly Leah, her hair, her dress, even her three diamond earrings—well, it all just seems to add up to the horrible event in my dream. Still, there is no sign of a terrorist or anyone who looks vaguely threatening anywhere.
I feel faintly relieved when the girls go back into the ballroom. I spot Eric, not far from the guys. He smiles as I join him, acting like he’s glad to see me, like I’m his date.
“I didn’t notice anything out there,” I say.
“Did you hear anything from the girls in the rest room? Anything that might clue us in?”
“Just that some of them are having second thoughts about making this an all-nighter.” Then I explain how the guys got rooms here. “For the obvious reasons…”
“Here’s a word of advice from an older man, Sam. You should always be somewhat suspicious of guys between the ages of seventeen and twenty.”
“Is that right?”
He nods. “I know it seems like a gross overgeneralization, but I am convinced that male hormones between those ages are pretty much running amuck.”
I laugh as I watch the couples interacting. “Running amuck, you say?”
“That’s right. Take it from a guy who remembers.”
Now the couples are heading to the dance floor again. Like obedient shadows, Eric and I follow, still keeping a safe distance, although I get the feeling that the couples are beginning to notice us. I catch some curious glances tossed our way, and I can’t help but think my overly bright dress is drawing attention, but I try to act completely nonchalant.
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