by Aiken, Ginny
Once in the driveway, Cate helped the kids out then called “Good night!” as Rand headed for his car. He stopped, turned and ran a hand over his face.
“Cate…I’m sorry.” He looked up at the sky, then back at her. “I wish things were different. That I wasn’t who I am, didn’t have this job to do. I wish…I could just take you on your word. But I can’t. It’s not just about me. I need more. It’s—”
“It’s complicated.”
He nodded.
She bit her bottom lip, then decided to take a chance. “I know what you mean. I—I care what you think. About me. And I want to prove to you I had nothing to do with any of this craziness. But I don’t know what to do.”
One broad shoulder rose and fell.
Cate’s frustration grew. “I just wish this were all over. Now.”
Instead of laughing at her Robby-and-Tommy-like outburst, Rand just nodded, confirming Cate’s feeling that something had happened—changed—between them that night. Unfortunately, reality had jumped in again and interfered.
With a quiet “Goodbye” he turned and then got behind the wheel of his car. Still concerned about the soccer players, she wished she could go with him to the hospital, but she had no reason, no right to be there. She’d do better to take care of her trio and then pray for the teens.
An hour and a half later, when she turned off the lamp on her bedside table, she wondered what the morning would bring.
EIGHT
“Smurfs?” Rand asked. “What do blue cartoon characters from an old TV show have to do with skunk-drunk kids?”
The nurse who’d come out to speak with him gave him a humorless chuckle. “I wish it had something to do with Papa Smurf, or even underage drinking. Smurfs are pills with a silly nickname, but not so silly effects. They’re a cheap substitute for ecstasy and some other hallucinatory drugs.”
“What are the active chemicals?”
“Chemical. DXM—dextromethorphan. It’s the main ingredient in cough syrup and other cold meds. The problem is its high toxicity at the quantity they take to achieve their high. You saw how sick it made them. It can and has led to death.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Are these guys going to make it?”
“Two of them look like they’re going to be okay, but in a world of hurt for a few days, not to mention a ton of trouble.”
“And the other boy?”
The nurse glanced toward the ER. “That old cliché—time will tell. They’re doing everything possible for him.”
Anger filled Rand. “And you say the stuff’s easily available?”
“What happens a lot of the time is that one kid will make a big buy on the Internet, then sell it off to his buddies.”
Determination steeled Rand’s spine. “We have to find out which one’s doing the dealing.”
Footsteps approached. “Welcome to my nightmare, Captain.” Rand turned toward the newcomer. The tall, muscular man with his dark hair buzzed close to his head gave him a nod. “J.J. Colby, varsity soccer coach at Loganton High.” The men shook hands. “We’ve got a growing problem in town and I’m having a time trying to keep up with the guys who’re using.”
“I hear it’s not just the meth.”
“Meth’s not the first thing they try.” The coach pointed toward a pair of armchairs and they sat. “They either outgrow the weed they start with or they get tired of the nasty side effects of the over-the-counter stuff pretty fast. That’s the kind of thing these guys took and you can see the results.”
“That’s what I don’t get. Who wants to go through that?” Rand’s disgust grew. “I’ve never understood.”
The coach ran a hand over his short hair. “I gotta tell you, with as hard as those guys work on the field, how much they train, the way they’re so careful with their diet, I’ve never been able to understand how they can turn over control of their minds and bodies to this. Especially not Phil Britton and Dave Lawrence.”
“What about the meth problem?”
The taut lines of the coach’s posture screamed his frustration. “We’ve had a death and a near-miss at school. It’s there and growing.”
“You know about the fire and what we found at the theater, right?”
The coach nodded.
“I suspect you catch a lot of the buzz at school. What do you hear from the kids?”
“I hear plenty. Much of it is exaggerated or flat-out lies but unfortunately, some of it’s true. The problem is, I don’t have anything solid to take to my principal, much less the cops.”
“Tell you what. You tell me what you’re hearing and I’ll track down the evidence.” The coach hesitated. “I’m not in the business of busting high school boys—unless one of them’s the ringleader of the meth operation that sent my boss and Wilma Tucker to the hospital and is poisoning your kids.”
“No way. My guys…I don’t think they’re what anyone would consider real addicts. They’re more along the lines of recreational users.”
A ping alerted them to the just-arrived elevator. Alec Hollinger stepped out with several very upset parents.
“There you are, J.J.,” the youth group leader said. “Phil Sr. and Rozie Britton wanted to thank you for giving them a call.” When he spotted Rand, Alec gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Captain Mason. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I was at the bonfire when the boys began having trouble. Couldn’t go to sleep without knowing how they’re doing.”
Phil Sr. stepped forward, hand outstretched. Rand shook it. The distraught father cleared his throat. “I appreciate what you did. If you hadn’t helped them, they could have passed out or even choked without anyone noticing.” He swallowed hard. “If not for you, we might have been planning a funeral. As it is, David Lawrence’s family doesn’t know yet what they might have to face.”
The image of Cate’s horrified face flew into Rand’s head. He couldn’t take the credit due another. “You’ll have to thank Cate Caldwell, the fire chief’s daughter. She’s the one who noticed the boys. She’s the one responsible for saving their lives.”
That was when the irony struck him. Years ago, Cate had played a part in two deaths. Now, she’d helped save two boys. And maybe, if things turned around, maybe even three.
From the depths of his Sunday School memories, a word bubbled up. It slugged Rand harder than if he’d taken a punch to the gut.
Redemption.
And it didn’t come alone either. It came with another very potent word.
Repentance.
Was that what made Cate tick these days?
In the light of day and back in the office at the fire station, suspicion tried to bubble up again. True, it might all be coincidental, but in Rand’s line of work, coincidence didn’t exist. Trouble did.
Cate’s history, Sam’s return, the meth lab, the album, the photos and the love letter, the melted ID tag she found on the sidewalk, even her association with Phil Britton…
He’d noticed the hug she’d given the soccer star when she’d arrived at the hayride. And Cate had even told him she’d had Phil babysit before. Could she have given him something? From everything Rand had observed to date, Cate seemed clean. He’d not noticed anything in her demeanor, in her behavior, that would suggest drug use.
Others in town vouched for Cate, both personally and for her efforts with the kids. She could very well be as clean as she said she was. But still, Rand couldn’t just ignore the coincidences. No matter how much, in spite of his better judgment, he wanted to.
He thought back to the night of the hayride, to what they’d told each other as they’d said their goodbyes. He’d admitted he wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t, not without proof.
To his amazement, she’d responded by telling him she cared what he thought of her. And that she wanted to prove her innocence to him.
If only they were strangers, not bound by history or an arson investigation. Not to mention the intrusion of drugs into their reality.
&nb
sp; But he couldn’t discount the evidence. On the surface, it might not all add up to much, but taken within the context of the world of illegal drugs, it might mean more than first met the eye.
Sam could have come back to the awaiting Cate, who might have helped him set up the meth lab. She could have dropped the ID and then when she realized what had happened, brought it to Rand’s attention. The photo album and love letter were self-explanatory once one accepted the possibility of an ongoing relationship between Cate and Sam during the past eight years. And as far as the soccer team went, well, Cate could have been supplying them with their drug of choice—
No. He just couldn’t see her dealing drugs. No matter what the evidence—and it was all circumstantial. He couldn’t believe how Cate affected him. He’d never reacted to a person involved in one of his investigations like this. She was dangerous to his peace of mind. And maybe more.
It occurred to him his suspicion of Cate had more than one reason for being. True, circumstantial evidence linked her to Sam and the fire. But he couldn’t deny his reluctance to care for her. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever met.
Was he using his suspicion as a way to keep her at arm’s length? Was he that scared of falling for her?
There was something to be said for emotional safety—even if another term for it might be emotional cowardice. Was he that scared of falling for Cate Caldwell?
Or were his suspicions justified? How would they play out?
As he stared at the lists he’d made and turned his pen from tip to top over and over again, the two powerful words that had come to him the night before returned.
Repentance and redemption.
It was possible. They were two cornerstones of the faith Cate professed. Could they also be the keys to the change folks in town said she’d made?
Rand couldn’t deny the inner lift he got at the thought of Cate being exactly who and what she said she was, nothing more, nothing less.
But for the words to be any kind of key, then there really had to be power behind them. The God from whom Rand had walked away had to exist.
But if God was there, why did He not prevent more of the devastation one couldn’t fail to see in the everyday world? Why did He leave His children to stumble along from disaster to disaster on their own? Why did He let decent people die as a result of others’ wrongdoing?
Rand stood, pushed away from the desk and threw his pen down on the notepad. “Nope. Nothing’s out there.”
Not anything loving, compassionate, peace-giving. All one had to do was take a look at the mess the world was in.
The next Wednesday, Cate walked into the gym ten minutes before the youth group session started. A tough four days had passed since the bonfire. The soccer players had been suspended from school for a week, starting from when they’d recovered, and they’d been permanently removed from the team roster. Phil’s future was forever altered.
David Lawrence, the boy who’d lost consciousness, remained in a coma, his future uncertain.
The whole episode made her heart ache. What a waste. A sense of urgency built up in Cate. How could she best help? How could she show kids they didn’t need harmful substances to enjoy their social interactions? That all drug use accomplished was destruction and loss? That their concept of “partying” led only to devastation?
She looked around the vast room at the kids who’d arrived early. There were artists, musicians, teachers, lawyers, doctors, counselors, law enforcement officers in the making among them. The world needed these young people to make their marks. Cate wanted to prevent more loss, to help keep them busy, focused on serving Christ, bearing the fruit of their faith.
“Hi, Miss Cate.”
She turned to see Hillary and two friends walk into the gym. “Did you ladies put together a list of blessings for the benefit? Any good ideas?”
The pretty blonde waved a notebook. “We’ve been brainstorming. This is soooooo cool…”
As they started toward the classroom Alec had assigned to Cate and her girls, the metal door opened and, to her surprise, Rand came in.
She sent the girls ahead. “Well, hello, there,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
Rand raised a shoulder. “After Saturday night, I figured I should do my part to help keep the town’s kids from following in the footsteps of Phil and the others.”
“Are you a member here?”
He glanced around the gym. “I suppose, because I never formally left the church, even when I moved.”
But you left your faith.
Cate had no idea where the thought had come from, but she knew she’d hit the nail on the head. And she was glad she hadn’t blurted out the words. Rand’s spiritual condition was none of her business.
“Has Alec told you about Tuckerpalooza?” she asked.
“We got to talking Saturday night in the hospital waiting room. I figured I could lend a hand, especially with a hammer, to build booths. We’ve gotten so much done in the last few days—there’s painting you and your girls can do.”
Her heart thudded faster in her chest as he smiled at her. Cate was sure her response had everything to do with the way Rand’s gaze dived so deep, burrowed into what felt like the most private corners of her heart and stripped her feelings bare.
She hoped the smile she gave him looked more natural than it felt. “Welcome aboard. I’m sure the boys will be glad to have your help—I know Alec’s probably doing an inner jig of joy now that he’s roped in both of us.”
As Cate walked toward her classroom and the gallons of paint the guys had stored there, she felt Rand’s stare on a figurative target smack dab on her spine. Sure, he could stare all he wanted. The more he watched her, the sooner he would satisfy his curiosity—and put his suspicions to rest.
Then? Well, she’d have to trust God with the “then.”
By the time Cate and the girls returned with the rollers and the paint, the gym floor had been covered with massive drop cloths, taped to the baseboards with bright blue painter’s tape. The girls hovered around Cate, looking to her for direction.
Armed with a paint-laden roller, she went to work with the teens. The chatter in the background eased her nerves, still tense from when Alec called the group together and led them all in prayer, lifting Wilma, Joe and even Cate, Lindsay and the twins, to the Lord.
When Alec had mentioned her name, she’d again felt Rand’s stare, intent and questioning. She’d sensed his discomfort at their prayer, but there’d been nothing she could do at that moment.
Next time they were alone…next time, she wouldn’t chicken out. And then, maybe, the strain between them would disappear once and for all.
Cate took a deep breath. Maybe…maybe that unexpected attraction she’d experienced from the start would grow into something stronger between them. She’d begun to catch glimpses of something other than his outward strength, his commitment to his work and his firm approach to right or wrong. Rand hid pain behind his rejection of God and maybe even his devotion to his job.
She began to wield her paint roller, a prayer in her heart. But then, a shriek cut through the hum of activity in the gym, and cries for help followed.
“Miss Cate!” Hillary called. “She just dropped. I don’t…don’t think she’s breathing. Oh, please! Please help!”
Cate rushed to Hillary’s side. There she found Marly had collapsed and lay sprawled on the drop cloth, her face white, her chest motionless.
Cate caught her breath, yanked out her phone.
Alec cleared the area around the fallen girl.
Cate dialed 9-1-1.
Rand dropped to his knees and began CPR. The rage on his face stabbed at Cate’s heart.
She prayed until the operator answered.
The EMTs were sure Marly had overdosed, even though they didn’t know what she’d taken. Toxicology would reveal all. But it didn’t matter what they found. It wouldn’t change a thing. Marly was gone.
Cate held the inconsol
able Hillary until her parents arrived. “I didn’t know she’d started using, Miss Cate.” Hillary’s sobs echoed the pain in Cate’s heart. “I promise. I didn’t. Why would she have done that?”
The plaintive question echoed the pointed one Rand had asked Cate about her own walk on the dark edge of disaster. “All I can tell you is that I did some stupid things when I was her age and even now, I don’t have a good answer to that question.”
Hillary’s parents arrived, and Cate murmured neutral responses when they thanked her for comforting their daughter at such a horrific time. But Cate knew she’d failed. Another teen had lost her life. This one, a “good girl” by all accounts and one Cate might have reached had she been able to intervene, to implement the drug awareness program.
She had plenty of ammunition against Alec’s earlier argument. Passivity hadn’t worked. Aggressive action couldn’t do any worse and might do some good.
Rand came at her then, loaded, as usual, with a multitude of questions. He started right in. “What do you know about Marly Wooten?”
“Very little. I met her when I started helping with the youth group. I gave her a ride home that one night when her mother was busy.”
“You do know her boyfriend.”
“Her boyfriend?”
“Yes. Hillary says she’d been dating Phil Britton for about six weeks.”
Oh, boy. Super-shy Marly and the soccer star. A bad combination. “I didn’t know.”
Rand mulled it over. “You didn’t know they were dating, but you do know him. You told me you’d even had him watch Lindsay and the twins.”
Cate couldn’t miss the edge of reproach in his voice. “I never saw any sign of Phil’s drug use before the hayride. And I would have recognized it. I had no reason to suspect him. And Marly? Her behavior didn’t raise any flags during the times I worked with the youth group. She probably only used sporadically. Just like Phil.”