Beyond Reach (13 page)

I consider this along with my strange encounter with Garrett. “Yeah, I guess that could be. But I'd seriously pray about it first, Olivia. You don't want to get in over your head.”

“I know…but I don't think it was a coincidence that Cameron brought this up to me today. It might really be a God-thing.”

That could be cool.”

“Would you come with me to the audition, Sam? I mean, if I decide to go through with it?”

“Of course! And you do have a fantastic voice. Everyone knows that.”

“Thanks.” She's pulling up to my house now. “And one other thing.”

“What?”

“Jack McAllister, you know he plays bass for the band, but he has dark brown hair—and it's straight.”

“Oh?”

“Do you think?”

“I don't know…”

“Well, Jack's pretty moody. Although he was like that clear back in middle school. Of course, I've always attributed that to his musician temperament and the possibility of drugs and who-knows-what. But when I was talking with Cameron and Jack about the band today, it did
occur to me that Jack's just the kind of guy who could be suicidal.”

“I suppose…”

“Does he look like the guy in your vision?”

I consider this. “You know there are a lot of guys who are starting to look like the guy in my vision, but I'm going to ask God to show me something a little more definite before I start putting them all on the suicide alert list.”

“I'll pray too.”

“Thanks.” I smile at her, relieved that she seems to be coming out of her Alex funk, just a little. Maybe joining Cameron's band is just what she needs. Although I hope she's wrong about Jack. “And thanks for the ride.”

She waves and drives off, and as I walk to my house, I think about all the guys with dark brown hair who could be suicidal, and it just makes me feel very, very tired. Man, it must be so hard being God—knowing all that He knows and what's going through the minds of every single person on the planet at any given time. But then I remind myself,
He IS God
after all, and He is cut out for this sort of thing.

M
y heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it beating against the temples of my head, and I can't seem to catch my breath. But I have to keep running. The only way out is to run for my life. Guns and bombs seem to be exploding everywhere I turn. Murderers and assassins around every corner. And the streets and the walls are varying shades of red, as if drenched in blood. I am trapped and there is no escape!

I sit up in bed and gasp. Of course, it was just a dream. Just a hideous nightmare. I wait until my breathing and heart rate return to normal, and I try to get my bearings. Finally I have to ask myself, was it just a dream? Or was it something more? It was so out of the ordinary for me—like I was trapped in some horrible video game, and I don't even play video games.

Then I realize what it was—it was
Killer7
, the same video game that Peter's little brother, Cody, was playing the day Ebony and I went to his house. I instantly recall Cody's intense face as he locked into the pretend yet violent world of that video game. Sure, it's an escape of sorts, but what a frightening one!

Feeling sorry for Cody, I pray for him, asking God to reach out to him, to give him comfort and hope. Then I go back to sleep. But the dream returns—it's the video game again, only now it features Cody, and the gun he is holding is pointed directly at me. I try to tell him to stop, to wait, to think about what he's doing, but before I can get the words out, he turns the gun to his own head—and shoots!

My heart is racing again when I wake up. It's almost six in the morning now, and although it's early, I'd rather get up than face the possibility of more dreams like these. Where are they coming from and what do they mean? Is God trying to tell me something? I write down the dream details in my notebook, then open my Bible and read today's Scripture—my way of washing away the aftermath of fear that was part of these two dreams. I pause while reading the section in Luke 14:12-14, the part where Jesus is dining with friends and everyone pushes to sit by Him. This is what Jesus tells the host of the dinner:

Okay, I know
exactly
what this means, at least to me. God is trying to make me understand how important it is to reach out to people who don't exactly fit in. People like my lab partner, Garrett, or like Cameron Vincent, or the other guys in the band that Olivia is considering auditioning for. I know that God loves all those guys and wants to connect with them. I also know that God loves Cody Clark, who I'm sure is a misfit in many ways, and I believe that the dream I've just experienced is meant to be a warning for Cody's welfare. He is in danger.

Although Ebony won't be at work this early, I decide to leave a message on her voice mail anyway. I'll explain the two dreams and my concerns for Cody's safety. Although he doesn't look like the older guy in my previous suicide dreams, he definitely looked as if he could be a suicide risk himself. And really, why would that surprise anyone considering what happened to his brother? Add to that tragedy his appetite for violent video games like
Killer7
, and it seems a lethal combination.

I'm just ending my message when something new hits me. “Ebony,” I say urgently,
“where was Cody when Peter shot himself?
Is it possible he was in the house at the time? I know he was probably only about seven or so, but could he have seen it happen?”

Of course, the police would probably have already questioned such an obvious possibility, but for some reason it seems important to mention this to her. Then I hang up and start getting ready for school. Cody will be in my
prayers today. I'll ask Olivia to pray for him too. I really do feel he's at risk. Serious risk.

To my dismay, Garrett is not in chemistry today. Now this is actually a twofold problem: 1) I am worried about him since I still think it's possible, okay maybe even likely, that he's the guy in my suicide visions, but 2) he's the one with our chemistry notes, not to mention our brains. I am lost without him. And Mr. Dynell isn't exactly sympathetic.

Taking the day off, Miss McGregor?” he asks when he finds me doing what I'm sure appears to be next to nothing—although in actuality I'm praying for Garrett.

“My partner's gone.”

That doesn't give you permission to daydream.”

“I know.”

The project is still due on Friday.”

“I know.”

Then get busy.”

So I pretend to be busy but eventually decide I must be science-challenged and really need a remedial class. I do gather some statistics, which may or may not be helpful, but for the most part I'm just waiting for the bell to ring. My plan is to call Garrett and ask if he's okay. I can use chemistry as my excuse, but I really want to make sure he's still alive.

As soon as class ends, I use my cell to call information for his number. Unfortunately there are about a dozen Piersons in town, and I realize this is not going to work. Naturally, Garrett is the kind of kid with few, if any, friends and I don't have the slightest clue who I can ask for his number.

Finally, I try the counseling center. And after I explain to the receptionist that Garrett, my chemistry partner, is absent and has the notes I need if I'm going to be able to work on our project, she dials the number for me and hands me her phone. But all it does is ring and ring. No one picks up. I hand the receiver back to Mrs. Morse. “No one's home.”

“Maybe he's sick in bed,” she suggests.

I nod. Yeah, maybe.” Then I thank her and leave. But as soon as I'm out of the office, I call Ebony.

“I got your message,” she says before I have a chance to tell her my latest concerns. “And I've been looking into it. According to our files, no one was home when Peter shot himself. But after hearing about your dreams, I'd like to question Cody when he gets home from school.”

“Good.” Then I tell her about Garrett. “I'm not certain that he's the guy in my suicide visions, but I'm not sure he's not.” Then I explain my attempt to call and how the receptionist wouldn't give me his number. “Is there any way you can get it?”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. I'm worried about him.”

“Samantha?”

I can tell by her tone that she's about to ask me a favor. “Yeah?”

“I hate to ask, but I thought it's worth a shot…would you have any interest in joining me to talk to Cody? I thought if perhaps I had you along, it would seem less intimidating, more like it's just an interview of sorts. Also, it would give you a chance to see how he reacts to my questions… in case God wants to show you something.”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Great! And that brings me to something else, a little plan I've been concocting, but I'll bet I'm making you late to class.”

“Actually, I've been walking toward class as we were talking, but you're right, the bell's about to ring.”

“Can I pick you up after school?”

“Sure.” So I hang up and get into class just as the tardy bell rings.

After school, I tell Olivia what's up. Naturally, she's curious and I fill her in on as much as I know. She, like me, has been praying for Cody today. But she didn't know that Garrett was missing in action.

“Wow, I hope he's okay”

I frown. “Me too.”

“And I've set up that audition for Friday afternoon. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

Then we part ways and I go out to see that Ebony is already waiting in her unmarked but fairly obvious police car. I try not to glance over my shoulder as I get in, but I do wonder what people would think if they saw me consorting with a policewoman. Hopefully I won't get a reputation for being the school nark.

“I've arranged with Mrs. Clark to speak to Cody at four,” she tells me as she drives away. “Want to get a coffee first? There's something I want to talk to you about.”

So we stop by Starbucks, and Ebony explains her plan. “I talked to the chief about putting you on a retainer.”

“A retainer?” Okay I'm thinking of teeth, but I've been out of braces for years now, and I don't even know what happened to my retainer.

“It's an arrangement where we would pay you for your time and assistance as a detective consultant.”

I feel my eyes growing big. “A detective consultant?” That sounds so grown-up and impressive that I'm not sure how to react.

She nods but looks a little concerned. “What do you think?”

I'm not sure what to think. I can't help but feel flattered— as well as tempted. “It's interesting. I mean, on one hand I've been wanting a part-time job to earn some money, but on the other hand…” I consider what I'm about to say, not sure I want to blow off an opportunity like this so quickly.

“The other hand?”

“I don't know if it would be right. It sort of sounds like you'd be paying me to use the gift God has given me, and I think that's wrong.”

“I had the same thought at first, Samantha. But I was discussing it with the chief, in all confidentiality, and as I was telling him about your ability to take the visions and dreams to the next level and actually think through and help to solve a mystery…well, it seemed like something altogether different. And I remember how you told Kayla that you were interning with us, and I just thought maybe there was a way to make this work for everyone.”

“I have to admit that law enforcement has always interested me. I guess that has a lot to do with my dad. Combined with how things have gone recently.”

“And you do have a gift for it. I mean beyond the gift of visions and dreams. You have an aptitude for crime solving that can't be taught.”

Thank you.”

“But I can appreciate your reservations too.”

I nod. “I want to respect God and His gift.”

“I really do understand. And if you don't feel right about the part-time job, you might want to consider an actual internship. We can work it out with school so that you get credits for it.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

That would be awesome.”

“But eventually you're going to have to answer the question about using your gift as a career too. Think about it, many people use God-given gifts in their job situations—teachers, counselors, pastors, musicians… The list could go on and on. And they all receive financial compensation for using their gifts. I don't think that makes it wrong.”