Intervention

by Terri Blackstock

  “When did you get divorced?”

  “Six months ago. After my husband lost the lawsuit, I knew we couldn’t go on.”

  “Why not?”

  Joan took a long sip, as if it gave her strength to talk about this. “He changed. He became completely obsessed with getting revenge on Road Back. After we lost the suit, it was like everything fell apart. He was a bitter, angry man, and he was impossible to live with.”

  “I guess that happens a lot when people lose a child.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I never would have thought it before.” She took the lid off her coffee and poured in some sugar, began to stir. “He started blaming me for the overdose.”

  “Blaming you? How?”

  “He said I was too lenient with her, that I allowed her to get on drugs, that if I’d been doing my job as a mother, she wouldn’t have turned out like that and none of this would have happened. And then I blamed him for being too strict and making her rebel. You know how it goes. One blame leads to another, until finally you realize you dislike each other more than you ever loved each other.”

  “Where’s your ex-husband now?”

  “Still here in Atlanta. He’s a general surgeon. But ever since Sara’s death, he takes a lot of time off and spends a good bit of time at our cabin.”

  Barbara’s heart jolted. “Where’s your cabin?”

  Joan put the top back on. “It’s up in Dalton. We bought it a few years ago. It was a great little escape for us, in the mountains. We used to go up there a lot with Sara.” Her voice broke off. “I let him have it in the divorce. It brought back too many memories.”

  “So he spends a lot of time there now?”

  “Yes, every weekend.” She reached into her purse, pulled out her wallet, and showed Barbara a picture of a young woman with long blonde hair. “I cried when I saw your press conference, because Emily reminds me a little of Sara.”

  Barbara took the picture, looked down at the girl. There were similarities. She prayed Emily hadn’t met the same fate. “How old was she?”

  “Twenty. Just starting her life.” Her voice broke again.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  Joan took the picture back, looked wistfully down at it. “She was my life. I never dreamed I would lose her so young. Especially to drugs. I used to think that kids who got on drugs must have terrible parents. That those of us who were involved and modeled good behavior, those of us who expected things of our children, wouldn’t ever go through that. But be careful who you judge, right? The Bible says, ‘In the way that you judge, you will be judged.’ I discovered the truth in that.”

  “So you’re a Christian? Me too.”

  “Probably why you chose Road Back, right? It was the first one to come up in your Google search.”

  “Bingo.”

  Joan gently put the picture back in her purse. “I started a support group at my church, and found out how many other families are suffering because of drugs. Our culture is killing our kids.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “The group has been a godsend. If you’d like to come, we meet tonight. It’s for anyone who has a prodigal.”

  Barbara smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

  “I wasn’t a Chris tian when Sara died,” she said. “But it was the church that comforted me and ministered to me, and later helped me through the divorce. And one day I was talking to another mother who had a child on drugs. Her daughter had just been arrested, and she didn’t know what to do. I said we should start a support group so we could pray for our children together. She reminded me that I didn’t need to pray for Sara anymore.” She looked down at her coffee. “But I don’t know, I thought maybe I could help pray for all the other kids, and all the poor parents out there going through the same stuff. So we put out the word. The first night we had ten people show up. We’ve been meeting once a week ever since, talking and encouraging each other, advising each other … but mostly praying. And we lift each other up during the week.”

  Barbara blinked back tears, thinking that she should start a group like that when she got back to Missouri. “I’d appreciate it if you’d pray for Emily.”

  “I already have been, since I saw the story on TV. And you,” she said. “I’ve been praying for you.”

  Barbara liked Joan, and wondered why any man would ever cut her loose. “Tell me about your ex-husband,” she said. “What kind of man is he?”

  “He used to be a good man, but he needs Christ. He’s the only one who could get that bitterness out of his heart.”

  Barbara glanced at Lance before speaking again. “Do you think he would have done anything to Trish Massey? Maybe for revenge?”

  Joan didn’t seem offended by the question. “The thought crossed my mind when I first heard about it, but no, he’s not the malicious sort. He’s just in a lot of pain.”

  “Do the two of you communicate at all?”

  “Occasionally, but not much. It’s a strange thing, to cut ties with someone after you’ve lived with them for twenty-five years. But this life is full of surprises, isn’t it? You never know what’s coming around the corner. But God does. And he knows where your Emily is right now.”

  forty

  When Kent got Tredwell out of his holding cell again, Tredwell looked hopeful. “Are you letting me go?” he asked.

  Kent shook his head. “No, I’m not letting you go. See, you’re in a real mess, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m aware that people don’t always tell the truth, and Dr. Leigh’s account might not be truthful.”

  Fear passed across Tredwell’s face. “Dr. Leigh? You’re talking to him?”

  Kent turned the recorder on. “I’m recording this, by the way. If you want to wait for your attorney, that’s fine, but then you’ll have to wait to hear what Leigh told me about you. I just had a conversation with him a few minutes ago. And I gotta tell you, his testimony isn’t doing you any good. He signed an affidavit and everything.”

  Tredwell sprang out of his seat, indignation all over his face. “He put the heat on me? When he’s the one who’s been blackmailing — ” He cut off the sentence, let it hang in the air.

  Kent tipped his head. “Blackmailing …?”

  The man kicked his chair, then lowered himself back into it. Kent leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to look sympathetic. “Look, Tredwell. I know you’ve been abused.”

  “You bet I have.”

  “And Dr. Leigh has a few secrets of his own. Why don’t you tell me what they are?”

  Tredwell rubbed his face. “I can’t.”

  “You’re willing to cover for him, while he implicates you?”

  Tredwell seemed frozen, then looked up as if he’d come to a decision. “He asked me to do it, okay? But I said no.”

  Kent’s heart beat faster. “He asked you to kill Trish Massey?”

  “No, he asked me to inject her, not kill her.” Tredwell lifted his chin. “Give me a deal, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “No deal, Tredwell. We’ve got Leigh’s testimony. It’s not looking good for you. You don’t have any negotiating power here. But if there’s something we need to know, I highly recommend you tell us. Otherwise, you’re going down for first-degree murder.”

  “He caught me doing something, okay? He found out I took some prescription pads. I didn’t use them, I just took them.”

  Of course. “Go on.”

  “He was holding it over my head, threatening to ruin everything if I didn’t do what he said. He was determined Trish Massey was going to pay for what happened to his daughter. He said if I helped him, he’d let me keep my job. He’d treat it like it never happened. He didn’t tell me that he wanted me to kill her. I was just supposed to use chloroform on a rag to knock her out, then inject her with some drugs and take off. Told me he was just trying to get her into trouble. If she woke up and drove under the influence, it would ruin her reputation. It might close her down.”

  Kent sat stra
ighter. “What drug?”

  “He didn’t say. I figured it was morphine or something.”

  “Try Tubarine.”

  He frowned. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a paralytic drug used in surgery.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never worked with it before. I don’t assist in surgery.”

  Kent stared at him, looking for a sign of guile. “So you agreed to do it?”

  “No, I told him I wouldn’t. I have enough legal problems without doing something like that.”

  “So you showed up at the airport to watch him do it? Because we’ve already established that you were there.”

  “No. I stayed at baggage claim.”

  “Your girlfriend says you left.”

  He slammed his hand on the table. “She lied!” He got up. “I’m not answering any more questions. You might as well just put me back in my cell.”

  That was fine with Kent. He stepped out and told the guard to put Tredwell in with the most intimidating prisoners they had. Maybe soon he’d be ready to tell them everything.

  forty-one

  As Barbara and Lance left the bookstore, she called Kent and told him what she’d just learned about the cabin in Dalton.

  “Dalton?” he said. “Did she give you an address?”

  “No. Kent, do you think Dr. Leigh could be involved in the murder?”

  His pause was the answer she needed.

  “Kent, so help me, if you don’t tell me what you know, I’m going to find that cabin myself.”

  “All right.” He hesitated, then went on. “You can’t say this to anyone. Not even Lance. We can’t take the chance of it getting leaked before we make an arrest.”

  “What?”

  “The text you got from Emily? It came from Leigh’s phone. And it pinged off of a Dalton cell tower.”

  The blood drained from Barbara’s face. Her lungs tightened, and she couldn’t catch a breath. She pulled off the road.

  “What is it?” Lance asked.

  She shook her head and raised her hand to quiet him. “Kent, he must be holding Emily in that cabin!”

  “If he is, we’ll find out.”

  “I’m going to Dalton,” she said. “I can look it up in public records.”

  “I have a database here. If there’s a title in his name, I can find that information quickly.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t give it to me.”

  “Why would I? Do you really plan to barge into his yard and bang on his door, demanding that he turn over your daughter?”

  “I might.”

  “Barbara, this is a good lead. The best we’ve gotten. Now I’m asking you to back off and let us work. If Emily’s there, we don’t want to get her killed.”

  Barbara was going to be sick. “All right, but you need to go now.”

  “Trust me, Barbara. What I need is for you to stay at the hotel and wait. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Barbara?”

  “Kent, hurry. She’s in trouble. She could be hurt. He could be doing horrible things to her.”

  “I’m on it, Barbara,” he said more gently. “Please trust me.”

  Barbara had never felt more helpless. As she clicked the phone off, she looked at her son. Lance stared back at her.

  “We’re close to finding Emily,” she said. “So close I can almost feel her.”

  “So what do we do?” Lance asked.

  She couldn’t just sit here and wait. Despite Kent’s warnings, she would go to Dalton and get as close to that house as she could without going there. But it could get dangerous. She couldn’t take Lance with her again.

  She pulled back onto the road and headed toward the hotel. “Lance. It’s time for you to go back home.”

  “What? No, I don’t want to!”

  “You’ve missed enough school. You can stay with Jacob and his family. I had a message from them saying they’d do anything they can to help, and they suggested you stay with them. I can get you on the next flight, and they’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “Mom, please. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been helping, haven’t I?”

  “You’ve been a big help, honey. This is not a punishment. But this is going to take me into some dark places. Last night it was stupid of me to take you to that motel.”

  “Mom, I’m fourteen.”

  “Honey, I’ve made my decision. You’re going back and that’s that.”

  “Who’s going to watch over you while you’re chasing killers? You’ll be in danger — ”

  “Don’t start that stuff again. I’m not listening this time.”

  “Mom, I’m serious!” he yelled. “I’m gonna lose my sister and my mother. I already lost my dad.”

  “Lance, I’m trying to keep you from losing anyone else. I won’t do anything dangerous.”

  “Yes, you will. You know you will.”

  She pulled around to the back of the hotel, and they both hurried in. Inside their room, she said, “Lance, this is what I have to do. I don’t want to hear anymore about it. You’re going home and that’s final. You can be mad at me if you want, but I’d prefer you spent your time praying for me and getting everyone else to pray. You can be our ambassador back at home.”

  She thrust his duffel bag at him, but he flung it across the room. “Mom, chill. I’m not Emily, okay? I haven’t shot up anything. I haven’t run away, or disappeared, or gotten kicked out of institutions. I haven’t murdered anybody.”

  “Your sister didn’t murder anybody, either!” she shot back.

  “We don’t even know that for sure, but you’re treating me like I’m the one who’s disappointed you, like I’ve ruined your life and sucked all the joy out of it. I’m not the one who did that, okay?”

  He knew which buttons to push, but Barbara resolved to follow through. He grabbed her purse and got her phone out, headed for the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to the bathroom,” he said.

  She sat at the computer and pulled up the travel site to reserve his ticket. Then she heard Lance’s voice. “Detective Harlan?”

  She went to the open bathroom doorway. “Lance, what are you — ”

  He held out a hand to keep her from snatching it away. “This is Lance Covington. I wanted to tell you that my mom is freaking out and making me go back to Jefferson City.”

  “Lance, give me that phone!”

  She could hear Kent’s voice. “I’m sorry to hear that, Lance.”

  “Yeah, we’re headed for the airport in a few minutes, and I wanted to tell you because I know why she’s doing this. She thinks without me she can do stupid stuff that’ll get her killed.”

  Barbara lunged and got the phone away. “Kent, I’m sorry — ”

  “Barbara, is he right? Are you going to do something stupid?”

  “No, I’m not!”

  “Yes, she will!” Lance yelled. “She’s as stubborn as Emily.

  That’s where Emily gets it.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” she said. “He’s way over the line.”

  “What time is his flight?”

  “Four-thirty,” she said. “We’re leaving now, whether he likes it or not.”

  She clicked off the phone and snatched up Lance’s bag. “Why can’t you respect me?”

  “I do respect you. That’s why I don’t want you dead.”

  “Go get in the car, Lance.”

  She took deep breaths as they made their way down the hall, and prayed the press wouldn’t be waiting outside. If they were, Lance would use that forum to try to sway her. She was certain of it.

  Thankfully, the reporters weren’t there. They got into the car with no fanfare. But Lance protested all the way to the airport, even while she called his best friend’s family to ask them to pick him up and keep him for a few days. When they arrived, she got his ticket and an escort pass to walk with him through security to his gate, since he was underage. There wasn’t much
time at the gate before he boarded, which meant less time to listen to his pleas not to send him home.

  “Mom, please don’t make me go.” Lance’s anger had deflated now, and his plea came in a soft, low voice. Even so, she felt the eyes of everyone at the gate. She longed for anonymity.

  The ground clerk announced that it was time to board Zone One.

  She looked at his ticket. “This is you, honey.”

  He rolled his eyes and picked up his backpack, shrugged it on. Grabbing his duffel, he said, “This is wrong. You’ll be sorry about this.”

  “Probably,” Barbara said. “I’m sorry about everything. Just go, have fun, go to school, be a kid.”

  “I can’t be a kid. My sister is missing and wanted for murder.”

  “Do your best.” She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek. “Please, Lance. I need you to be strong for me. Ask everyone to pray. Go to church and tell them all that Emily didn’t do it. Make sure they’re not just dismissing her as the kid who keeps getting into trouble.”

  His eyes filled with tears. “It’s just … I don’t know when I’ll see you again. How long will you stay if you don’t find her?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t even think about that, Lance. I will find her. We’re so close.”

  “But it could be weeks. Months.”

  “It won’t be. Now, go.”

  Slumping, he pulled away from her, and started for the ticket agent.

  “And Lance?”

  He turned back.

  “Please don’t get into any trouble.”

  He shrugged, as if refusing to commit. She knew it was just a way to twist the knife a little.

  Her eyes stung as he walked onto the jet bridge, out of her sight. She wished he would at least turn back, give her half a smile, lift his hand in a wave. But he was angry, and he wasn’t going to.

  Touching her mouth, she turned and headed back up the concourse, back through security and out to the parking lot. She thought about waiting to see if his plane had taken off, but people were staring at her, whispering, and she needed to be alone.

  She went back to the garage where the murder had taken place and crossed to the side for short-term parking. She got into her car, careful to check the backseat. No one was there, so she slipped in, locked the door …