Bad Connection (15 page)

The cell phone rings and I jump. But I answer it before the second ring, and to my relief it's Ebony.

“His car was towed and impounded because it was left in a dangerous place. It was partially on the road where there was a tight curve.”

“And?” 3

“According to my sources, there wasn't anything illegal o found inside it. Zach will be ticketed and fined for leaving 5” his car there. But there isn't a warrant for his arrest.”

“Really?”

“According to my sources, it's just routine.”

“But what about what I told you?” I ask in a meek voice.

“Zach needs help, Samantha.”

“I know.”

“We could use this to get him help.”

“How?”

So Ebony tells me about a rehab place she knows about where she could get him in with very little waiting.

“How's that possible? The last time he went in—it was an inpatient program for drugs. We had to wait six weeks, and then they could only keep him for thirty days. In the end, my mom thought it was just a waste of money.”

“I know we could get him in because it's run by my brother.”

“Where is it?”

“Washington State.”

“Is it expensive?”

“I think they have a sliding scale.”

“What's that?” I ask.

“It's where patients pay according to what they can afford. Do you think we could convince him to go, Samantha?”

“I think it's worth a try.”

“Does your mom know about this yet?”

“Well, she has her suspicions about him getting involved in drugs again. She told me as much today.”

“But she doesn't know about his car and what he just told you?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I call her?”

“Go ahead. Try her work number first.”

“Okay. But before I hang up, do you want to pray for him with me, Samantha?”

“Yes!”

So we pray and then hang up. And for the first time in weeks, I feel a faint flicker of hope for my slightly lost brother. Even so I continue praying. I walk around the house and pray that God will keep Zach asleep and safe in our house until we can figure this thing out. And I pray that Ebony will say the right things to Mom and that Mom will understand and not be offended by Ebony's desire to help. And then I pray that Ebony's brother really will be able to take Zach. The sooner the better.

It's dark by the time Mom gets home. But Zach is still asleep. Just more proof that he really has been using something. He usually crashes like this after a binge with a drug like meth
or
speed.

“Did Ebony get ahold of you?” I ask.

“Yes.” She looks worried. “Is Zach still here?”

I nod. “Crashed. Coming off something, I guess.”

“Good.”

“Did she tell you about Zach's car?” I ask in a lowered voice. “About the fact that he was carrying drugs?”

Mom nods as she takes off her coat and hangs it in the coat closet. She looks so tired.

“Did she tell you about her brother's place?”

“Yes. She said that she'd already called him after talkoing to you, and he assured her of a spot for Zach.”

“So, he's going?” I ask hopefully.

“If he agrees.”

“Oh.”

“Ebony offered to come by this evening. She said we can do an intervention of sorts. And she'll put some pressure on him.”

“Good.”

“In the meantime, we're supposed to just act normal.” Mom kind of laughs. “Like I even know what that is anymore.”

“You and me both.”

“Why don't we start by ordering pizza? Can you take care of that?”

“Sure.”

“I'm going to change clothes. The cuffs of my pants have been soggy ever since the parade.”

“What if Zach gets up?”

“Tell him we ordered pizza,” she says. “His favorite kind.”

I nod. “Okay. He'll probably be starving.”

“Yeah, he usually is.” Then she trudges up the stairs, but I notice that she stops to look at the photo of our family, the one where we're happily standing together in
front of Disneyland. She lets out a tired sigh then contin-ues on up.

I wonder what Dad would think if he could see us today. Wouldn't it break his heart to know what Zach has been up to during these past twenty-four hours? I can't bear to imagine it myself. Then I wonder why God didn't let me in on this. Why didn't He give me a vision for Zach? Why was I busy finding Conrad's lost sister, Katie, when my very own brother was far more lost? Doesn't God think Zach is just as important? Then I remind myself that help is on its way. And isn't it up to God to figure out what's best anyway?

T
he pizza delivery van and a police car pull up in front of our house at the same time. I quickly pay the curious pizza guy as I let Ebony and a uniformed officer inside.

“Are you going to arrest him?” I whisper to Ebony.

She shakes her head. “No, it's just for effect.”

“Oh.” Still, I feel unsure as I direct them toward the family room, where Mom is waiting, looking as if she's sitting on a porcupine.

Zach woke up about twenty minutes ago. Mom told him to grab a shower before the pizza got here, but he's coming down the stairs now, barefoot and wearing sweats. His hair is still wet. And despite telling myself that this is a good thing, I feel so guilty. Like I'm leading the poor innocent lamb to the slaughter. I just hope I can trust Ebony I hope she was telling me the truth.

I hold out the pizza box. “It just got here,” I say in a slightly shaky voice. “Good timing, huh? Mom's in there.” I nod toward the family room, worried that Zach can see right through my little act. Does he already know what's up? Is he about to bolt straight for the front door and make a run for it?

But instead he simply removes the pizza box from my hands, takes a big sniff, and announces he's starved as he casually strolls toward the family room. I hold my breath as I follow him. Then he stops in his tracks, so quickly that I almost stumble into him.

He looks at Mom. “What's going on?”

“Come and sit down,” Mom tells him in a surprisingly calm voice.

I take the pizza box from him and go over to set it on the counter.
Breathe and just relax. Everything is going to be okay.
But when I turn around, Zach is just standing there, looking more scared than I've ever seen him before. I'm still not sure that he doesn't plan on running.

“I'm Detective Hamilton.” Ebony shows him her badge. Then she extends her hand for him to shake. But he doesn't take it. “And this is Officer Reinhart,” she continues, ignoring his snub.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a voice that reminds me of when he was about ten years old.

“We need to talk to you,” she tells him. “We need to ask you some questions.”

“Sit down, Zach,” Mom tells him in a kind but firm voice.

Zach turns and looks at me now, but I just shrug, acting as if I have no idea what's coming down. Then I go over and sit down, and to my relief, Zach does the same.

“We know all about your car, Zach,” Ebony begins. “It was towed and impounded, and we know about what you were carrying in it.”

Zach looks at Mom now, and I can tell he's really upset. “Do you know too?”

She just nods then looks down at her hands in her lap. q

“It wasn't mine,” he tells her.

“Whose was it?” she asks, looking up.

“A friend—” Then he stops himself. “Not a friend. Just o this guy I met. I don't even know his name.”

“But you knew what it was that you were carrying in your car?” probes Ebony.

“I didn't actually see it,” he says quickly. “I mean, it could've been anything.”

“Did he pay you for transporting it?”

“No.”

“Not yet anyway…” she suggests.

“He
didn't
pay me.”

“And he probably
won't
be paying you any time soon,” says Officer Reinhart in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Zach leans over and looks down at his bare feet. “No.

“This is the deal,” Ebony says in a very serious voice. “We will work with you, Zach, but only if you'll work with us.”

He looks up. “What does that mean?”

“It means if you give us the guy's name and whatever you know about him, we'll figure out a way to let you off this time.”

His eyes light up. “You will?”

She nods. “But only in return for your cooperation.”

“You won't charge me? You can promise that?”

“As long as you cooperate and agree to our conditions.”

“What are your conditions?”

So she goes into an explanation of how he must make an affidavit that will help to catch and convict the meth dealer and finally how he must agree to an inpatient drug rehab treatment.

“And that's it?” He looks skeptical. Then you let me off?”

“Unless there's something we don't know about.” She peers curiously at him, and suddenly I'm worried that there could be more. Zach could be in deeper than any of us suspect.

“How long is the rehab?” he asks.

“A minimum of sixty days. Longer if it's determined necessary.”

He looks at Mom now. “But…we can't really afford it, can we? I mean, last time you said that—”

“It's all taken care of, Zach. Money isn't an issue right now.”

He looks back at Ebony and frowns.
“Sixty
days?”

“Possibly longer.”

“Look,” says Officer Reinhart, “once your drug-dealing buddy finds out that you messed up and that you lost what you were supposed to be delivering, well, you might just want to be gone sixty days or even longer. You follow me?”

Zach slowly nods. “Yeah…”

Ebcpny pulls a piece of paper out of her briefcase. “This is an electronic ticket,” she tells my mom. “Round-trip for the two of you to Seattle. Zach will be picked up at Sea-Tac by a counselor, and we'll put you up for the night in an airport hotel, and you can fly out early Sunday morning. Zach's return trip is open-ended.”

“Who paid for this?” my mom asks.

“The precinct,” says Ebony. ft

“Why?”

“Because Zach is a cop's kid,” says Officer Reinhart. “And we stand by our brothers and their families.”

Ebony looks at Zach now. “Are you ready to go?”

“Right now?”

She nods. “The Seattle flight leaves Portland International at 9:45 tonight.”

“Tonight?”
Zach looks like he's having second thoughts already.

“Did you want to stick around town?” asks the officer. “See if your drug-dealing buddy shows up to collect from you?”

“No,” he mutters.

“Then pack your stuff.” Ebony hands him a paper. “This is a list of what you can and cannot take with you. If you forget anything, your mom can send it to you later.”

“Do you want help?” I follow Zach up the stairs. He doesn't answer, but I keep going anyway. No way do I want him pulling a second-story escape right now.

“This is so cool.” I watch him pull a duffle sack out of his closet. “A real answer to prayer.”

“Whose prayer?” he grumbles.

“Mine.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, would you rather go to jail?”

“Rehab is just another form of jail, Samantha.” He's shoving socks and underwear into the bag, cussing under his breath.

“At least you don't get a criminal record.”

“But I get to rat on a friend.”

“You said he
wasn't
a friend.”

He makes a growling noise.

Im guessing he's not a friend anymore, Zach. Officer Reinhart is probably right. This dude will probably be really ticked at you for messing him up; he'll probably be coming after you.” Of course, this makes me realize something I hadn't even considered before. “Does he know where we live?”

“I don't know…” Zach turns and glares, shaking a pair of wrinkled Levi's at me. “Do ya mind, Samantha? I want to put on my jeans now. Some privacy, please?”

But somehow I know that's not what he really has in mind. Call it intuition or just an educated guess, but I'm certain that he's thinking he could still make a fast break. He could get me out of here, grab that bag and his shoes, and head right out the window.

“Why don't you just wear those sweats.” I nod to the loose navy pants he's wearing. “With all the new security machines at the airports, those buttons on your Levi's would probably just set off all the alarms anyway. Olivia told me that her sister was practically strip-searched one time just because she had on—”

“Fine!” he snaps, stuffing the jeans into his bag and zipping it. “Whatever!”

Then, feeling extremely relieved and slightly victorious, I wait for him to exit his room then follow him back downstairs.

“Can we give you guys a lift to the airport?” offers Ebony.

“Do we have a choice?” grumbles Zach. co

“You
do
have a choice!” my mom says to Zach in a tightly controlled yet very angry tone.

“Huh?” He looks slightly stunned by Mom's sudden show of emotion. She doesn't usually let her feelings out o like this.

“No one is going to force you to do this, Zach!”
The volume reaches a level that outsiders seldom hear. “You could run away right now, and maybe you wouldn't even get caught for a while. But you would get caught
eventually]
Everyone gets caught eventually.” Her eyes fill with tears, and her voice cracks as she continues. “We're doing this to give you another chance, Zach. Everyone has gone to a lot of trouble to give you a second chance. Do you want to throw it away? To just spit on it and—”

“No,” he says quickly. “I'm ready to go, Mom.”

“Good.” She turns to Ebony, straightening her shoulders. “A ride to the airport would be very much appreciated.”

Mom quickly gathers some of her things and then suggests I spend the night at Olivia's again, which sounds good to me. Then blinking back tears, I tell Zach good-bye and that I'll be praying for him. He just rolls his eyes at me, and throws the strap of his bag over his shoulder then walks out the door, dragging his heels like someone who's been condemned to the electric chair.

I'm so glad he doesn't know that I'm the one who called Ebony today. He so could've gotten away with this whole thing, and if he had any idea that I'm the one who ratted on him…well, I just don't want to consider that right now.
Mostly, I believe that God intervened on Zach's behalf tonight. And I'm thankful.