Vicious Cycle

by Terri Blackstock

  “He loves any excuse to log hours.”

  “He seems to think a lot of you.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t give me warm fuzzies like you do.”

  Again, she grinned. His hand felt good over hers, his rough thumb stroking her skin. She wished he were staying here tonight, sleeping in Lance’s room. But if he did, the neighbors would think something was going on, and she didn’t want that to get back to her kids. It was always better to avoid the appearance of impropriety.

  Besides, he did have a hotel room.

  “So tomorrow, when we find Jordan and she confesses, how quickly do you think we can get Lance out?”

  “That’s a lot of ifs. But I feel good about the possibility that she’ll tell the truth,” he said. “The arresting officer told me that she was having trouble with the accusation. Her mother tried to make her say Lance hit her, but Jordan said he would never do anything like that.”

  “Really? She said that?”

  “Yes. That tells me she’s conflicted. She doesn’t want him in trouble. If we can catch her away from her mother, I think we’ll get somewhere. And if she does change her story, we can get him out pretty quickly.”

  Barbara hoped that was true. She shivered in the cool air and chafed her arms.

  “Come here.”

  She leaned into him over the console, and he slid his arm around her. His warmth blanketed her.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” he asked her in a soft rumble.

  “Actually, I do now, thanks to you. I thought I’d be up all night, but you’ve made the burden a little lighter.”

  “That’s my job. Putting women to sleep.”

  Maybe it was the endorphins from all the tears or just the relief of knowing Lance was safe. But she found herself laughing again. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  When he kissed her, her heart turned to warm wax, sliding into her chest, making her ache. She touched his face, felt the sandpaper stubble. His lips were slightly chapped, but she liked the feel of them. He had his own unique taste, one that lingered.

  He pulled back, and she let her hand slide down his chin. Their eyes met and held, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  Finally, he whispered, “That was nice. I’ve missed you a lot.”

  She smiled, feeling like a teenager. Then she thought of Lance in jail, and her smile faded. What kind of mother was she? She drew in a deep breath and pulled back, but she didn’t want him to think she was turning cold. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. “I just … feel kind of guilty. Making out in the car when Lance is …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Lance knows we kiss.”

  “I know, but … tonight?”

  She saw his disappointment, but he didn’t argue. “Tomorrow, then.” He opened his door, and she took the cue and got out on her side.

  She went around the car and stood close to him as she dug through her purse, trying to find the extra key to Emily’s car. She found the key, pulled it out. “The car should be clean.”

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

  “All right. Sleep well.”

  He stood there for a moment longer, then touched the back of her head, pulled her toward him, and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Barbara.”

  Barbara couldn’t account for the feelings coursing through her as she went in. She watched through the window in the door as he got into Emily’s car. When he’d driven away, she closed the garage door and went into the den.

  She lowered herself onto the couch, wondering how it could be that, in the midst of such a trial, she could still have such fierce feelings for Kent. She’d tried for the past year to keep her feelings for him from getting too intense, since their distance apart made it impossible for them to be together often. But that distance hadn’t cooled things at all.

  Here she was, thinking of him, when her son was in lockdown in the Juvenile Detention Center. How could she ever have a relationship when her kids were so troubled and so many miles lay between them? She had to be careful and not let her heart take her down the wrong path. Too much was at stake. Even if she got Lance out of jail tomorrow, Emily would be home Monday. Then there would be a whole new truckload of worries.

  It was a time for sacrifice, not indulgence.

  If only she could make her heart follow her head.

  Chapter 22

  Lance couldn’t keep a low profile for long, not with Turk sticking so close to him. When the guard outside the glass turned away, Turk’s enemies crossed the room toward them.

  Turk rose to his feet, his chin set like he was preparing for mayhem. Lance felt a little sick.

  One of Turk’s tormenters took the lead. “We got unfinished business, Turk. You real bad now, ain’t you? Let’s see how you hold up in here with my boys.”

  “I’ll hold up just fine, Cash, and don’t count on them guards keepin’ me from rearrangin’ your teeth.”

  Lance sprang up. “Everybody calm down, okay? We’re all stuck here, so just chill. Why get yourselves in worse trouble?”

  Hate-filled eyes turned on him. “Who are you?” Cash stood a couple inches taller than Lance, but he weighed twice as much and looked like he was pumped up with steroids.

  “I’m nobody,” Lance said, refusing to back away. “I’m not in this.”

  “Then stay out of it,” Cash sneered. He grabbed Lance’s throat with a tattooed hand, his face inches from him. Lance told himself not to react, just to freeze like he would in the presence of a snake.

  Then Turk lunged, attacking Cash’s face like a monkey ripping into a banana. Cash fell back, then rallied and swung. Lance moved away as the other boys whooped and yelled, surrounding the two fighters like hungry animals.

  Suddenly the glass pod door slid open, and three guards rushed in, brandishing billy clubs. Lance backed against the wall to let them pass, glad he wasn’t part of the fray. They grabbed the fighters by their collars and wrestled them out the door. One guard shouted for everyone to back off. “I’m throwin’ them in lockdown, and any of you who make trouble can go there too.”

  Lance watched through the glass as Turk and Cash were manhandled until they were out of sight. But before they closed the glass doors, one of the guards came back in.

  “Covington! Lance Covington!”

  Lance raised his hand. “That’s me.”

  “Come with me,” the guard ordered.

  Lance got to his feet, his heart pounding. Maybe his mother had figured a way to get him out. He followed the guard and the glass doors closed behind him. He hoped he never saw the place again.

  “This way,” the guard said. Ahead of them in the hallway, Turk and his sworn enemy were being thrown into lockdown cells.

  “Am I getting out?” Lance asked.

  The guard grunted. “You’re going to lockdown.”

  Lance sucked in a breath. “Me? Why? I didn’t fight. I didn’t do anything.”

  The guard ignored him and kept walking.

  “Can you tell me why? What did I do?”

  “I’m just doing what I was told.”

  Tears of rage filled Lance’s eyes, but he fought them back as they came to a door that looked like it was made of iron. It had a tiny window in it and a slot that he supposed was for food trays. The door opened, and he looked inside. There was a metal bench welded to the floor so it couldn’t be moved, and a metal toilet without a lid. That was it. Nothing else.

  “Go on in.”

  Lance held back. “I left my mattress and blanket in my cell.”

  “I’ll bring you another mattress. You can’t have a blanket.”

  “Why not?”

  The guard wasn’t interested in answering questions. “Come on. It’s almost my break.”

  Lance felt the blood rushing to his cheeks again. As frightened as he was of being in there with kids who’d just as soon attack him as look at him, he hated being singled out for punishment.

  “Is
there a TV? Anything to do?”

  “No. Nothing you can hurt yourself with.”

  He sighed. “How long do I have to stay in here?”

  “Until they tell me to take you out.”

  “But … if I don’t know why I’m getting punished, how can I do better?”

  “Just shut up and get in there.” The guard shoved him into the room.

  Lance stumbled in and looked around. The room wasn’t any bigger than eight feet by five. “There’s no bed. Where do I sleep?”

  “Put the mattress there,” the guard said, pointing to the bench. “That’s your bed.”

  Another guard appeared with the rolled-up foam pad they’d given him as a mattress. Lance dropped the pad on the bench and turned back to the door. “Is there anything to eat? I missed dinner, and I’m starved.”

  “You’ll have to wait for breakfast.”

  “Is there anything to read?” He knew he was pressing his luck, but he didn’t want the guard to leave. What if they forgot about him in here? “No!” The door slammed, its clank echoing.

  Lance stared at the door, already feeling claustrophobic in the small, sterile room. He unrolled the pad on the bench and sat down, wondering how he’d sleep on this. The room was freezing. Emily had complained about that when she’d spent the night in jail. She said they kept it cold to keep people calm. That people fought when it was warmer.

  That didn’t work here.

  This was so unfair. He didn’t even belong here in the first place — and now they were throwing him into lockdown? The boredom was going to kill him.

  He sat on the bench and pulled his feet up, wishing for socks. The orange flip-flops were too small for his feet, and his toes were like ice.

  He lay down, stretching out on the pad that wasn’t more than a couple of inches thick.

  He wished he could turn time back to earlier today, when he’d gone to Jordan’s. He never should have driven Emily’s car without a license. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened. But driving without a license shouldn’t result in lockdown.

  He prayed that God would forgive him and get him out of here.

  Soon he was bargaining with God, promising to do better, to read his Bible more, to stop the occasional cussing. He’d stop giving his mother a hard time. He’d be nicer to Emily.

  He heard Turk in the cell next to him, screaming profanity and threatening Cash across the hall, as if he could pull a Superman and bust through the door. Lance wanted to tell him to shut up, that he was only hurting himself. But he kept quiet, his arm over his mouth, muffling the sounds of his own despair.

  Chapter 23

  Barbara woke at four the next morning, groggy from a labored night of shallow dreams. As she made a pot of coffee, she wondered what Lance’s night had been like. Had he suffered in lockdown? Had he felt betrayed?

  She prayed that Jordan was safe, that she was coherent, that she would come to her senses and tell the truth. What condition must the girl be in after having a baby at home and being beaten by her mother? Barbara hoped Jordan was alive.

  As she drank her coffee, she read Scripture, searching for wisdom that could guide her through these rough waters. It was Sunday, but she didn’t feel free to go to church. Her son needed her. If she could get him out today, then maybe tonight they could all worship together.

  At eight, she drove to the hospital, again hoping that she’d catch Jordan checking on her child. But there was still no one there for the nameless little Rhodes baby.

  The nurse allowed her to rock the tiny bundle, and Barbara fought back tears as she did. The child looked a little stronger today, and they had her in a little pink T-shirt. Some kind nurse had fluffed her wispy curls, and they circled her little head like a brown halo.

  God, please give this little girl a good life. She’s going to need an extra measure of help from You.

  She ran her knuckle along the baby’s cheek, and their eyes met. In that moment, as innocence and trust blinked up at her, Barbara felt a fierce sense of protection. But the baby wasn’t hers to protect.

  She couldn’t even protect her own children.

  Through her tears, she saw movement outside the display window, where relatives and visitors could peer in at their little miracles. Maureen Rhodes stood in the hallway, talking to a nurse. Barbara caught her breath. Could Jordan be with her?

  Maureen would scream or hiss like a character from Invasion of the Body Snatchers if she saw Barbara with the baby. She looked around for a way of escape. If she went out the door she’d come in, Maureen would see her. But there was another door that exited into the adjacent hall. She quickly returned the child to the bassinet and made sure nothing had pulled loose. The nurse came toward her. “Are you leaving so soon?”

  “Yes, I have to go.” Barbara glanced at the window again. “Her grandmother’s coming, and … we don’t get along.”

  The nurse turned and looked through the window as Barbara slipped out.

  In the hall, Barbara leaned against the wall. Her forehead was sticky with perspiration, though a chill hung in the air. She felt like she’d just committed a crime. If Maureen saw her here, she’d probably call the police.

  Barbara waited for several minutes, then walked quietly to the corner and peered around. Maureen was gone. Forcing herself to breathe, Barbara moved toward the nursery window. Maureen had gone inside, but the door was still open behind her.

  Jordan was nowhere in sight. The nurse led Maureen to the baby. Maureen showed no emotion. She didn’t melt when she saw the baby, and she didn’t try to pick her up. Her shrill voice carried over the room full of fragile babies, as she coldly questioned the nurse about the baby’s condition.

  No wonder Jordan put her baby in Lance’s car. What kind of person was Maureen?

  Lord, please don’t let them release the baby until this is sorted out.

  She had to find Jordan—not just for Lance’s sake, but for the baby’s as well.

  She decided to leave by the stairwell, just in case. As she headed down to the lobby, her cell phone rang. She dove into her purse for it. The caller ID said “New Day.”

  She clicked it on. “Hello?”

  “Mom?”

  “Emily, did you find out anything?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said, her voice low. “Nobody wanted to talk in front of Tammy last night, because she’s new and she may not stay. None of us would ever rat out a dealer in front of people we didn’t trust. Anything could happen.”

  “Then you think Jordan’s with a dealer?”

  “Probably,” she said. “She hangs out a lot with a dealer named Belker. He works from several different locations. He has a mobile meth lab, so he can move fast. But the Serene Motel is one of his favorite places, and it’s closest to where Jordan lives.”

  Barbara stopped on a landing. “Emily, do you know this guy?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, he sells other drugs too, not just meth. I used to buy from him sometimes.”

  “And you don’t know his full name?”

  “Just Belker.”

  “Do you have a phone number or anything?”

  “Not anymore. But, Mom, I could be wrong. I just know that she was close to Belker, and she hung out with him a lot. He even put her to work doing things to pay for her drugs.”

  “Put her to work? Doing what?”

  “Mom,” Emily said, as if Barbara should know what she meant. “She doesn’t even know who the baby’s father is. He put her to work … selling what she has.”

  Barbara’s heart sank. Jordan had just had a baby, and she’d been beaten and abused. Would this Belker person abuse her so quickly after that?

  Evil weighed down on her, heavy and smothering. What was she going to do?

  “Mom, if you figure out where she is, don’t go all Super Woman. I know how you are.”

  “I won’t. Kent is here. He’s helping me.”

  “Oh.” The word fell flat. “How did he know about all this?”
r />   “I called him. I didn’t ask him to come, but I’m glad he did.”

  “That’s good, I guess.”

  Barbara didn’t have time to analyze that reaction. “Emily, don’t waste any of your phone calls today. If you hear anything else, please call me back.”

  “I will. Lance better get out today. All the girls want to tell him good-bye. And I want him at my graduation tomorrow.”

  “So do I,” Barbara said. “So do I.”

  As soon as she hung up, she called Kent and told him what Emily had said.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m on my way to meet the chief of police. I’ll ask him if he knows about this guy Belker.”

  “If they know him, wouldn’t they have arrested him?”

  “Probably have. But they get out. Just wait for me, Barbara. Don’t go anywhere without me, okay?”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Because you will.”

  “I promised you I wouldn’t. Just hurry, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll call you the minute I’m out of this meeting.”

  Chapter 24

  Barbara didn’t want to go home and just wait, so she went to a nearby Burger King and ate a breakfast croissant in her car. This reminded her so much of that time a year ago, when she’d been in Atlanta, eating alone while waiting to hear word on Emily’s whereabouts. She had never wanted to be in this situation again.

  When she finished eating, she drove around aimlessly, waiting for Kent’s call. She drove down the street where she worked, pulled into the parking lot, and into the space where she parked every day. The store was closed on Sundays, so the lot was empty. She checked her watch. Only a few minutes had passed. Maybe she should just go home and wait.

  Then she saw someone at the Dumpster on the side of the parking lot, pulling out a large cardboard box that had once held a recliner. Reflexively, she checked her door lock.