Nope. Wouldn't think about that. "I'd prefer you go voluntarily."
Aiden slumped in his chair, the posture of defeat. Maybe defeat was good. Maybe defeat was the first step—because his son had been defeated, not by Garrison, but by drugs.
When Aiden said nothing, Garrison tried a new tactic. "Would you say you've felt good these last two days?"
"I don't know. I guess not."
"You've been sick. And you know why?"
Aiden didn't answer, but of course he knew.
Garrison said it anyway. "You've been sick because your body is detoxing from painkillers. Right?"
"I guess."
"Which means you've been taking a lot of them. Enough to cause you to need them, right?"
No answer.
"Have you been craving them?"
Another shrug.
"Has it been hard?"
"What do you want me to say?"
Garrison resisted the urge to sigh. "If we take all that information—the fact that you've been in withdrawal, the fact that you're craving drugs, the fact that you've used enough to cause you to feel sick—we have to come to the conclusion that you have a problem. Do you agree?"
"I just... I can quit on my own. I don't want to go to rehab. Like, how would that even work? School starts in a month. Would I be done in time?"
Garrison met Sam's eyes. Based on everything they'd read that day, Aiden wouldn't be home in time for the first day of his senior year. But getting him healthy was more important than getting him through school. First things first.
"We'll have to see what the experts recommend," Garrison said.
"Isn't that what you two were doing all day?"
"Only so much we can find out online. Tomorrow, we're going to see one of the places we found. We'll go early, maybe be back in time to hit the lake in the afternoon." He looked at Sam. "If that's okay with you."
"You're welcome to the boat whenever you want it."
He looked at his son. "What do you say? We can do it together."
Aiden looked at his father, then at Sam. "Are you coming?"
"Um..."
"If you want her to," Garrison said.
"But you should know..." Sam's voice shook. She was obviously uncomfortable sharing her secret, and here she was telling a second person in one day. "I have an anxiety disorder so sometimes I get these panic attacks."
Aiden sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"
"The first time, I thought I was having a heart attack. I tend to stay close to home, to avoid certain situations, to keep from having them."
"Weird. It happens a lot?"
"It's been a while."
Aiden said, "So do you want to come with us?"
"Only if you think I can help."
He looked at Garrison. "Okay, fine. I'll go. Sam can come. But on one condition."
Here it came, the reason for Aiden's good attitude, for his kindness toward Sam, for his willingness to go. Garrison braced himself.
"Can I please have my phone back?"
He blew out a breath. Thought a minute. Nodded. "Tomorrow, when we're in the car, you can use your phone for a little while. But I'll be reading your texts and listening to your phone calls. I don't think you need to have unfettered access to your friends."
"So like, I can't have any privacy?"
"You've had enough to get yourself into serious trouble. I've given you a lot of freedom, and you've used it poorly. Now, we have to back off, start fresh. I know it doesn't seem fair."
"It's not fair."
"Life isn't fair, kiddo. Get used to it."
Aiden looked like he might argue, then glanced at Sam, who held his gaze. He looked back at Garrison. "Okay, fine. Deal."
Chapter 14
Monday morning about three seconds after his mother left for work, Matty hopped on his bike and headed for Aiden's house. It was really humid but cool, so his skin felt chilly in the breeze.
Maybe Aiden and his dad had come home late the night before. Mr. Kopp had to work. Aiden had to work. It wasn't like they'd had a vacation planned or anything, and they hadn't been getting along lately. Obviously, they'd get sick of each other and want to come home.
As he rode, Matty kept telling himself all the reasons why it made sense that Aiden and his dad would be there. He'd talked himself into it, so that when he turned the corner on their street, he totally expected to see the Camry parked in the driveway.
But the driveway was empty.
For good measure, Matty knocked on the door—not that he hadn't done that a thousand times in the last two days. He rang the doorbell and even peeked in the windows. The house looked deserted.
Matty was screwed.
He sat on the front porch steps and considered his options. They all sucked.
He'd called his father about a thousand times since Robert had left him at the curb the day before, but Dad wasn't answering. Something was wrong. Dad should have been calling him, texting him, nagging him to get the package delivered. Instead, he'd gone dark.
Gone dark. Like he was Jason friggin' Bourne.
Matty didn't want to think about what it might mean. That Robert's people had gotten to his father. They knew where he'd flown the other night, so it wouldn't have been that difficult. They'd figured out who Matty was—probably ran his license plates after the scene at the airport. They must have had some connections. Would those connections have told him where in the Bahamas Dad was staying? Were these the types of people who killed their enemies? Robert had said he worked for the government, but that didn't mean he was a good guy, right?
Matty had done just enough research on the Democratic Republic of the Congo to know their government wasn't all that stable. There'd been some civil war a few years back, and lots of refugees had gone there from other wars in Africa, and there was unrest all over the country. Even if Robert was a government agent or whatever, who knew what kind of guy he was.
But if Matty didn't hear from his father, he'd have to turn the package over to Robert. He wasn't going to risk Mom and Jimmy's safety to protect Dad.
All that was assuming he ever got the package back.
Another thought occurred to him. He could just tell Robert where the package was. The man could probably figure out Mr. Kopp's location somehow, or maybe get his government to contact the U.S. government, and have them call. Maybe it could all be, like, official or whatever. Assuming Robert was who he said he was.
Except Robert had said not to contact the authorities. That meant he wouldn't, either.
Who was to say Robert wouldn't just find Aiden and Mr. Kopp, kill them both, and take what he wanted?
No way Matty would drag two more people he cared about into this mess. He'd have to get the package back himself.
Matty was nearly home when his phone rang. Probably his brother wondering where he was. He pulled it from his pocket, looked at the number, and nearly crashed his bike. He managed to stop and connected the call. "Where have you been?"
"We left town for a few days." Aiden's voice sounded stronger than it had in a long time. "My dad took my phone. What's up with you? It looks like you called me a bunch—"
"When are you going to be home?"
"I don't know, man. A few days probably. It's like... There's stuff going on. Dad wants me to consider some rehab places."
Rehab? Was it that bad? Matty felt a sharp pang of guilt. He was the one who'd introduced Aiden to drugs in the first place. Matty'd tried them, never cared for the feeling of being out of control. But Aiden had loved them from the very start. And now...rehab.
"That sucks," he said because he didn't know what else to say. And right now, he couldn't think about his friend's problems, not with his neck on the line. "Where are you?"
Matty heard Mr. Kopp's voice in the background. "I'd rather you not tell him where we are."
So, wait. Mr. Kopp could hear Matty through the phone? That wasn't good.
Aiden said, "My dad doesn't want me to tell you."
A pause, then, "I don't think so, not right now."
"I need you to come home. Or tell me where you are so I can come to you."
"No can do. We're not even in New York."
Matty swore loudly, and Mr. Kopp said, "Nice language."
Crap, crap, crap.
"Look." He kept his voice at barely a whisper. "A hint. Something. I gotta know where you are."
"Uh, so like we're staying on this lake—"
"Son..." Mr. Kopp's warning tone was clear.
"Geez, Dad. We could be in, like, Wisconsin, the land of a thousand lakes."
"It's Minnesota," Mr. Kopp said. "And it's ten thousand."
"See," Aiden said. "Like he's gonna check every lake in freakin' America."
They were arguing about lakes while Matty's whole stupid existence was in danger. And Aiden was right—knowing they were on a lake was about as helpful as knowing they were in a place with trees. He was so screwed. "I'm in trouble. I need you to come home."
"I like... I went to the hospital Friday night. They had to keep me all night, and now..." His voice trailed off.
Frustration had him pounding on his bicycle handle. He finally had his friend on the phone, and he still couldn't get to the package. "I know about that. You're okay now, though, right?"
"Yeah. Now."
"Listen. I need you to talk your dad into coming home, like, today. Like, ASAP."
There was a pause. "Are you hurt?"
He was afraid Mr. Kopp would hear something. He whispered, "I'm in trouble."
Mr. Kopp said, "Is something wrong?"
"His girlfriend and him got into a fight," Aiden said. "He doesn't exactly want you to hear all about it. Can he at least have some privacy?"
Matty could hear Mr. Kopp's sigh.
Aiden said, "So, what'd she do?"
Aiden was playing along, but Matty still needed to be cautious. If Mr. Kopp got any indication what was going on, he'd turn the package over to the authorities, like, yesterday. "It's a long story, but I'm just saying, I need you home. Right away. Or I'm in big trouble."
Aiden said, "She can be such a bi—"
"Watch your mouth," Mr. Kopp said.
"Sorry." To Matty he said, "I don't know how I can help."
"I'll tell you when you get here. Just talk your dad into it. Tell him... Tell him you have a school function or something you can't miss."
"I don't think that'll work."
Matty wanted to scream. He couldn't raise his voice above a whisper. "Then send me a pin where you are."
"Yeah, we're like, driving right now, on our way to this rehab place in—"
"I mean it, son," Mr. Kopp said. He raised his voice and said, "No offense, Matty."
Sure, man. None taken. He'd only known them for like a decade, but whatever. "It's serious. Like life-and-death serious. When you get where you're staying, send me a pin, and I'll come there."
"Sounds like your girlfriend's really lost her mind this time. You should dump her for good."
Aiden was assuming the problem was related to Matty's drug dealing. He'd been telling Matty to quit dealing drugs for months, despite the fact that he was Matty's best customer. Too dangerous. Aiden had said it so many times. And Matty had thought it was dangerous. Apparently it was nothing compared to working for his father.
No reason to set Aiden straight right now. If Aiden thought it was related to his dealing, that was fine with Matty. He didn't feel like telling his friend with the great dad how crappy his own was.
"I just have to figure this thing out, and I need your help to do that. Then I'll get out." Matty realized as the words came out that he meant it. This stress, the worry about getting caught, the fear of the people he had to work with—they weren't worth it. And working with his father wasn't, either. The closeness he'd longed for had never materialized. And look what his dad had gotten him into. He'd find another way to make the money he wanted, and if that meant Dad didn't contact him anymore, so be it. "I need your help. Please."
"I hear you, man. I gotta go."
Just like that, Aiden was gone. Matty was no closer to the package than he'd been before, but maybe Aiden would get his dad to come home. Maybe he'd send his location, and Matty could get to them. The trouble was, none of that was going to happen by noon today.
Chapter 15
Sam couldn't concentrate on Aiden's end of the conversation with his friend, and after he returned the phone to his father, she couldn't concentrate on Garrison and Aiden's words.
She could feel the band that tethered her to Nutfield stretching, trying to pull her back. Any second it would snap, and then what?
She visualized the paddle balls she and her brother used to play with when they were little, the way the little rubber ball would always come back and bounce off the paddle, until it didn't. Until the rubber band broke, and the ball sailed wildly through the air to smash into whatever was unlucky enough to be in its path.
When her band broke, what would she hit? Who would she damage?
She'd lost her mind, agreeing to this, going to a strange place with two people she hardly knew.
She forced a deep breath, blew it out slowly, counted to ten. Did it again.
Think truth, she told herself. What was true?
She knew Garrison and trusted him. Garrison wouldn't let any harm come to her.
But Aiden was just a kid. It wasn't right that she'd put them in this position, not when they were so stressed already. What a terrible idea this was, her joining them. Why had she let Garrison talk her into it?
Looking between the front seats and out the windshield was a mistake. They were headed over a rickety bridge. She squeezed her eyes closed, imagined the icy waters beneath. The current. The cold. The beautiful numbness at the bottom.
No. She needed to remember the truth. It was summer, so the water wouldn't be icy. And they weren't going into it. She was safe.
The car reached the far side of the bridge, and Sam blew out her breath.
Garrison and Aiden didn't need this. They probably didn't even want her here anymore, and they certainly wouldn't if she freaked out. And what if she did? Then what would happen? Garrison would be horrified, and Aiden? He'd be disgusted.
That's what she was. She was disgusting. Ridiculous. She was like a cartoon character of a crazy person, a person trying hard to pretend to be normal when she was so far from normal.
She could feel her blood pressure rising with each mile.
Truth. She had to focus on truth.
"How you doing back there?" Garrison asked. "You're awfully quiet."
I've lost my mind, thank you. I think it fell out about ten miles back. "I'm okay."
"You're doing great. You want me to pull over for a minute, give you a chance to breathe?"
Such a kind offer. Garrison was kind. He'd protect her, and he'd forgive her if she had an anxiety attack. She'd survive this.
Truth.
She'd debated all the way to the cabin that morning about whether or not she should coach him on how to handle it if she freaked out. It seemed so stupid, but if she did have a panic attack, he needed to be prepared. When she'd arrived and Aiden had run to get his shoes, she'd started to. "If I should happen to, you know, lose my mind—"
"I looked it up last night. What a panic attack looks like, how to handle it. Do you take any medications for it?"
She'd been prescribed some. She pulled an orange bottle from her pocket. "One of these."
"Great. Do they work?"
She hadn't taken one in so long, she couldn't really remember. But she nodded just the same. "I'll take one if I start to panic."
"I'll remind you, if you need me to." Garrison had gone to the trouble to research her condition. That was sweet and sad at the same time. She hated to be so needy, especially now that he needed her.
"So...?" he asked from the front seat.
He'd asked her
a question. Right. Did she want to stop? "We're almost there."
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "You're a little pale."
"I'm okay." And she was. Sure, her heart rate had picked up, but she wasn't sweating. She wasn't feeling sick. She could do this. It didn't hurt that they weren't going far from home, only to Dover, a town she'd been to many times in her life. Even if it had been years, Dover was familiar.
So far, so good. How she would feel in an unfamiliar environment, she didn't know.
They arrived at the facility and pulled up to the guard station. Garrison explained who they were, and a moment later, the gate opened.
"It's like a prison," Aiden said.
Sam looked at the manicured grounds, the pretty flower beds, the athletic fields across the way. The buildings were mostly one- and two-story, aluminum-sided in different colors, scattered across the place. It looked like a college campus.
Apparently all Aiden saw were the guard and gate.
They pulled in front of the building marked for visitors and parked. This one was longer and two-story. There were a couple of entrances. Beyond the one for visitors was one marked Infirmary. She remembered from her research that this place had medical personnel on staff.
Like a hospital. Or maybe like a mental institution. This was the kind of place they'd send her to if she couldn't keep her mind under control. Except mental hospitals probably weren't nearly this nice. She imagined true mental hospitals. Bars on the windows. Angry women manning electronically locked doors. Burly orderlies with syringes of sedatives for the truly crazy ones.
Patients talking to nothing.
Screaming. Padded walls. Shackled wrists.
Her hands shook. Her heart raced. She had to get out.
Garrison opened her door, crouched down to look at her. His eyes narrowed. "You okay?"
She forced in a deep breath and looked around again. A college campus. A small college campus, like a liberal arts school. Nothing scary here. She could do this. She forced another deep breath, blew it out, and nodded.
She took Garrison's hand, let its warmth calm her, and stepped out of the car. A slight breeze caught her hair, lifted it before setting it gently on her shoulders. She picked up a floral scent she couldn't place, the sound of laughter coming from inside one of the buildings, of birds singing in the trees, of the rustle of leaves. Her heart rate was returning to normal. For Garrison, she would do this.
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