Vicious Cycle

by Terri Blackstock

  She headed home and went into the dark, empty house. She went back to Lance’s room, saw the bag of diapers on his bed, the masking tape, the bottle.

  The truth was, he’d tried to take care of the child. He should have come to her, yes. He should have called the police the moment he found the baby. But he’d been trying to do what was right for the child and for Jordan. After watching his sister suffer, he felt compassion for those in her shoes, and he’d thought he could help Jordan.

  God, what are You doing?

  She sat down on Lance’s bed, rubbing her face. Lance shouldn’t have borrowed the car and driven without a license. He shouldn’t have gone to the house of an active drug user. He shouldn’t have argued with her mother.

  And when he’d found the baby …

  But shouldn’ts wouldn’t get them anywhere now. The girl who’d gotten Lance into this mess was the only one who could get him out.

  Even in her selfishness, even in her fogged thinking, maybe Jordan would care enough about Lance to change her story.

  Barbara didn’t even know where Jordan lived, and her phone book wasn’t where she’d last left it. She racked her brain for the girl’s last name, but if she’d ever known it, she’d forgotten. Her mother was Maureen. But Maureen what?

  Emily would know. Barbara grabbed the phone, dialed New Day.

  “New Day. This is Tia.” Tia was the night counselor whom Barbara barely knew.

  “Tia, this is Emily Covington’s mother, Barbara. I need to speak to my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry, but she’s used up her phone calls for the day. Besides, the girls aren’t allowed to take calls after eight.”

  “Tia, this is a family emergency. If you don’t let me talk to her, I’m going to have to come there.”

  She hesitated. “All right, if it’s an emergency. I’ll go get her.”

  Barbara breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes as she waited. After several moments, Emily came to the phone.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  “Lance has been arrested.”

  “What?”

  When Barbara was finished explaining, Emily said, “That dork drove my car?”

  Barbara wanted to scream. “Emily, is that really the worst thing you heard me say?”

  “No, I’m just saying, if he hadn’t done that, none of this would have happened.”

  “I need Jordan’s last name and her address or phone number.”

  “I don’t know her address, but her last name is Rhodes.” She spelled it. “Mom, did they really put him in Juvie?”

  “Yes. Pray for him. Get everyone there to pray.”

  “We will. Mom, Jordan’s in deep trouble with her addictions, but she does have a heart. I really think if you talk to her she’ll change her story. Her mother is horrible, and she probably made her say that.”

  “But why? Why would Maureen do that? It’s not as if she cares about the baby—she didn’t even get Jordan to the hospital when she was in labor. Even after the baby was born addicted to meth, she didn’t get her to a doctor to see if she was all right.”

  “It’s probably a control thing. She’s the reason Jordan’s addicted in the first place. But if Jordan does give the baby up for adoption, the counselors said she can come back here. She’d have to start over from the beginning, but she needs that.”

  “I’ll tell her, if I can find her,” Barbara said.

  She hung up and changed clothes. Her feet were killing her in these heels, and she’d been wearing this dress all day. She put on a pair of jeans and tennis shoes and waited.

  When Gus finally called, she told him she’d pick him up at the police station. Pulling out of the driveway, she prayed that God would help them find Jordan at home. The girl was their only hope.

  Chapter 15

  The porch light was on when Barbara and Gus pulled up to the Rhodes house, and bugs flew around it. The yard was neglected, the grass a foot tall where it grew at all, and the house looked like it needed a coat of paint and some repairs.

  Her heart sank as she thought of Lance coming here alone today. What was he thinking?

  “Barbara, if they give us trouble, we leave. No fighting. We’re not dealing with rational people here.”

  She agreed.

  The porch looked rotten and unsteady. Stepping up onto it, she knocked on the door. Gus stood on the rickety steps behind her.

  The door squeaked open, and Maureen peered through the screen door with red, bloodshot eyes. “What do you want?”

  Barbara had met her a time or two on visitation days at the treatment center. They’d never exchanged more than a passing greeting, so she wasn’t sure the woman would recognize her. “Maureen, hi, I’m Emily and Lance’s mother.”

  Maureen narrowed her eyes. “I know who you are.”

  “I need to talk to Jordan.”

  “She ain’t here. She went out.”

  Barbara doubted that—the girl had just given birth. “Maureen, we really need to talk to her. My son is in jail tonight.”

  “Where he should be.” Maureen looked past her to Gus. “Who are you?”

  “Gus Thompson.” He stepped forward and reached his hand out to shake. But Maureen didn’t open the screen door to take it. “I’m Lance’s attorney.”

  Barbara hoped the authority in his voice would get some results. But Maureen just laughed. “He’s gonna need one.”

  “Maureen,” Barbara said, “you know Lance didn’t do anything like what Jordan claims. She put that baby in his car. This is all just a huge misunderstanding, and we can clear it up very easily.”

  “I told you, she ain’t here.”

  Barbara concentrated on softening her voice. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, probably with some of her no-account friends.”

  “She just had a baby. She shouldn’t be hanging out with her friends. She should be in a hospital.”

  “Don’t tell me what my daughter should be doing. Worry about your own reprobate kids.”

  Barbara drew in a long breath. “I do, Maureen. That’s why one of them has been in treatment for a year. And I worry about my son. Why would she say that he kidnapped the baby? You were here. You know that isn’t true.”

  “You’re right. I was here. He came in here ranting about how she needed to go back to treatment, and when she wouldn’t go, he beat her up and grabbed the baby and took off.”

  Barbara almost went through the screen door. “Why are you lying? He’s fifteen! Lance has never done anything to you. No one in our family has ever done anything to you. Lance was trying to help Jordan, because he cares about her.”

  “Do I need to call the police again?”

  Barbara took a step back and tried a different approach. “Let me appeal to you as a mother. I know you love your daughter. I love my children, and I’d do anything for them. Please—the baby’s safe now, and everything’s okay. Just … please get Jordan to drop the charges.”

  “If you want to help your son, teach him to stay out of other people’s business. Now get off my property or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing and harassment.”

  Gus handed Maureen a business card. “Ms. Rhodes, when your daughter comes home, would you have her call me?”

  Maureen took the card and tossed it on a table just inside the door.

  Gus took Barbara’s elbow. “Come on, Barbara. Let’s go.”

  Barbara would just have to get to Jordan some other way. If she was somewhere in the house, maybe she’d heard her. But she couldn’t count on that. Barbara stalked back to her car. If she really had gone out, maybe Emily’s friends would know where Jordan hung out. Maybe someone at New Day could tell her. She knew Gus wouldn’t consent to beating the bushes for the girl. She’d have to wait for Kent.

  She prayed they could still find Jordan before Lance had to spend the night in jail.

  Chapter 16

  The holding room at the juvenile detention center was a bright Pepto-Bismol color, though thi
s was the side for boys only. Lance wondered if that was meant to humiliate the tough guys who landed here.

  It was a busy night. He stood at the door of his holding cell, watching through the dirty glass as they booked another eight losers. Their cursing shook the place, the cuffs on their wrists probably the only things keeping them from attacking the cops who handled them. Some of them had bloody bruises, and one had a swollen black eye. They’d clearly been fighting. He wondered if they’d all been on the losing side.

  He sure hoped they wouldn’t put them in the same holding cell with him. But there had only been three doors like this one when they processed him. If there were only these holding cells, some of them would undoubtedly end up in here with him.

  He backed across the room and sank onto a bench. It was built into the wall — probably so no one could pick it up and throw it. There was nothing in here you could use in a fit of violence. Except fists … teeth … feet …

  He raked his hands through his hair. He’d never survive this night.

  How do I get out of here?

  He wondered if the baby was all right. If she was fed and diapered, if he’d done all the right things with her. He sure hoped he hadn’t made anything worse for her.

  Jordan’s mother had probably gone nuclear when she realized the baby was gone. She’d probably threatened Jordan to try to get her back. Jordan would have had to tell the police some story to cool her mother off.

  But didn’t she understand what her lies would do to him? Did she even care?

  No, of course she didn’t. She was selfish, like all active drug users. She only cared about herself and getting that next high. Whatever she had to do, whoever she had to sell out, however she had to lie, she would. He’d learned all about it at New Day—their need to lie and steal to get drugs to numb the pain. But the lying and stealing led to more problems and more pain, so they needed more drugs to feel better. And that meant more lies and stealing. More problems. More cravings for drugs. It was a vicious cycle that took miracles to break.

  The door clanged and scraped open. Lance stood up as the guard ushered three guys in. The one with the bloody lip was first, followed by a kid who looked no more than twelve and the kid with the black eye.

  Suddenly he felt like a little mouse in a cage with rabid rats.

  “Any trouble from you,” the huge guard told the newcomers, “and I’ll put you in lockdown, you got it?”

  The smallest kid had the biggest mouth, and he told the guard what he could do with his lockdown.

  When the door clanged shut, all three turned toward Lance. He tried to stand tall, but the kid with the black eye was taller. He wished he hadn’t showered today, that he looked a little dirtier, a little less clean-cut. He hoped his cheeks weren’t burning red. He hated that about himself, that his every emotion burned in full color splotches on his face.

  “How long you been in here?” the little one, who happened to look the most dangerous, asked.

  Lance shrugged. “About an hour.”

  “So are we spending the night here in this cell?” the kid asked.

  The big guy shook his head. “No, man. This is just a holding cell. They’ll take us upstairs to the pod.”

  “What’s the pod?” the kid asked.

  “A cell with a bunch of rooms in it around a circle.”

  “So we’ll all be together? Reno will smash my face in.”

  “Not if I’m there,” Black Eye said.

  Lance wanted to laugh, since it looked like Reno had already smashed all of their faces in. But he didn’t dare.

  “Will they keep us separate from them since they arrested them first?”

  “Doubt it,” the kid with the fat lip said. He turned to Lance. “What are you in here for?”

  Lance swallowed. “For something I didn’t do.”

  The three laughed. “No, really. What did you do?”

  Lance drew in a breath of courage. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  “You got a attitude?” Bloody Lip asked him.

  “No.”

  The kid took menacing steps toward him. “Whatsa matter? You too good to talk to us?”

  “Apparently not,” Lance said, “since we’re all in jail.”

  The little guy came closer and slapped his fist into his palm, right in front of Lance’s face. Lance refused to flinch. He was sure he could take this kid if he had to, but not all three of them, and the other two were sure to join in.

  And if he got in a fight, he’d probably have to stay longer. It wasn’t worth it. He wondered if that girl checking into New Day this morning had felt this way when he asked her what she was in for.

  “Okay, if it means that much to you …” He thought of telling them he was in for ripping the face off the last dude who smarted off to him, but he decided to play it straight. “I’m in for kidnapping.”

  “Kidnapping who? A girl?” Bloody Lip asked.

  “No, not a girl. A baby.”

  They stared at him. “Your own kid?”

  Lance knew they’d never understand. “No. A friend’s. I didn’t take it. It’s a long story.”

  “You give her money for it?”

  Lance stared at the kid. “No, I didn’t give her money.”

  “But she was gonna get some, right?”

  Lance shook his head, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “She on dope? This girl who had the baby?”

  Lance shrugged. “Yeah, meth. Why?”

  “Dude in the hood is always looking for pregnant tweakers. Waves drug money in their face. Wads of cash.”

  Lance frowned. “For what? What does he want with the babies?”

  “He only wants the baby girls. Sells them to some dudes in South America.”

  “It’s easy money, man.” The little guy was clearly hopped up on something, and he tore out a laugh. “Dude, wish I could get pregnant. I could use some cash.” He couldn’t sit still and paced across the floor, fidgeting and agitated. The other two sat down, but their knees jiggled.

  They reminded him of Jordan. He wondered if they were on meth too. “Who is this dude? The one who sells the babies?”

  “Man, I ain’t tellin’ you that. He’d slice me up.”

  Lance thought that over. Surely that wasn’t the situation with Jordan. The people waiting for the baby were clean-cut. And Maureen and Zeke had arranged this themselves. He thought back to what the man had said. He’d threatened to call off the whole thing, and Maureen went crazy, begging him not to. Was it possible that money was involved? Was that why Maureen was so dead set on giving the baby to them?

  The boys started arguing about the fight that had gotten them there. “I told you not to get into it with them,” the little twerp said. “How can we get out of a possession charge?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who called the cops, you moron,” Black Eye said. “There was stuff all over the place, right out where they’d see it. They saw us cookin’! We’re not goin’ down for possession, but for manufacturin’. That’s real bad, man!”

  “Hey, I was tryin’ to keep him from killin’ you.”

  “I’d rather be dead! Now the cops are gonna score with our stuff, man, and all that money is wasted.”

  “Reno would have put a bullet through your brain. He had a gun.”

  “You could’ve at least hid our stuff before you called 911, fool.”

  Lance winced, certain of what would come next. Instead of jumping on the name-caller, the boy kicked the stone wall, as if he could walk up it. “You call your old man?” he asked the other guy.

  “Naw, man. I called Mag.”

  “Mag? She can’t bail you out.”

  “Ain’t nobody bailin’ me out. My old man sure don’t have no cash.”

  “I called my mom. She told me to sit here, that I deserve it. She wouldn’t come.”

  Lance thought back to the night Emily had been arrested for a DUI. His mother, who’d been at the end of her rope, had refused to ge
t her out too. Emily had to spend the night in jail.

  He hoped she didn’t get the same idea with him. “If it just wasn’t the weekend,” he said. “I have to wait until Monday to get bail set.”

  “Man, us too. Two nights in jail, at least. I hate this place!”

  “Been here before?” Lance asked.

  “Five times,” Black Eye said.

  Lance wondered what could make someone do enough to get put in here five times. Once was all it would take him. He was a fast learner.

  The little guy backed up and got a running start, then kicked the wall higher, as though he could walk up it like Harry Potter. Then he fell onto the concrete floor, hurting his shoulder.

  Black Eye erupted. “Stop it, you idiot! I’ve had enough of you.”

  The kid got back up, fire in his eyes. This was going to be bad. Lance glanced at the door, wishing for an escape.

  The best he could do was stay out of the way.

  Chapter 17

  It wasn’t easy to convince the counselor at New Day to let Barbara see Emily so late. Though Emily would be completely free in just a couple of days, the rigid rules that kept these girls clean and sober still applied to her.

  When they finally let her into the rec room to talk to Emily, her friends came with her. Barbara tried not to look frantic.

  “Mom, did something else happen to Lance?”

  “No, but I need your help. Jordan isn’t home, and her mother wouldn’t tell me where she is. I need for you guys to tell me where she hangs out.”

  Emily looked back at one of the girls—a brunette who’d blossomed from a scrawny, unhealthy addict into a beautiful young woman in the last few months. “Karen, you hung out with her. Do you know where she could be?”

  “I know a few places,” the girl said reluctantly. She glanced at Emily. “I’ll bet she’s at Belker’s.”

  Barbara saw the knowing look on Emily’s face. “Yeah, I bet you’re right.”

  “Belker’s?”

  The girls all looked at each other, silent. Emily finally met her eyes. “He’s … someone we all knew.”