Bad Connection

by Melody Carlson

  “Thanks.”

  “And go easy on yourself, Samantha.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I said at Kayla's house. You can only know what God wants you to know. If He's not showing you everything, then you'll just have to trust Him for it.”

  “I know…but I guess I kind of feel responsible too. Like He's placed this huge burden on me, and maybe I'm the only one who knows what's going on with Kayla. And yet I don't know much of anything. Or maybe I'm not listening well enough.”

  “I think you're doing just fine, Samantha. And I'm going to share my favorite Scripture with you. I'm sure you've heard it before, but I think you may need to hear it again. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She pulls up at my house and turns and looks at me. “It's Philippians 4:6-7, and I glommed on to it shortly after your dad died. I used to say it to myself over and over throughout the day Now it's more of just a once-a-day thing. I memorized it in King James Version. Here goes. Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.'”

  I nod. “Yeah, I'm familiar with that verse.”

  “Good. You might want to memorize it too. And then I'm going to challenge you to really think about what it says. It doesn't just say to simply pray, Samantha. It says to make supplications, which means to really beat on God's door. And then it also says to thank God. And I've come to believe that means we need to thank Him even before we see the answers to our prayers. You know what I mean?”

  I smile at her. “I'm surprised you're a cop, Ebony. Did you ever consider being a pastor?”

  She laughs. “Actually, my daddy was a preacher man.”

  “Was?”

  “He died when I was fifteen.”

  “Oh…”

  Just then her cell phone rings, and I'm not sure whether to get out of the car or to wait to say good-bye. But she motions me to stay put.

  “Is that so?” she says into the phone. “Very interesting.” She glances at me and nods. “Well, thank you very much, Eric.” Then she hangs up. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Kayla never went to San Diego at all.”

  “Really?”

  “The bus company did a little more research, and it turns out she bought a ticket to Phoenix.”

  “Phoenix?”

  She nods. “And those mountains you drew…”

  “Phoenix?”.

  That's what I'm thinking. I've only been down to Arizona once, but they have some spectacular mountains there. Some that are all jagged and cut up like the ones you drew today.”

  “And the heat and dryness?” I ask hopefully. “Maybe it's not a fire?”

  “It can get pretty hot down there. Especially if you're in a place without air-conditioning.”

  “So where do you begin to search for her in Phoenix?” I ask.

  “Well, we send all the information we have down there, and then we pray for a miracle.”

  “And that God will give me some more clues?”

  “That's what I'm going to be praying.”

  And so as I walk into the house, I feel slightly encouraged. It seems that I'm really on the trail after all. And, I remind myself, it's God who's doing the leading here. It won't do any good for me to get impatient.

  Eight

  By Friday, it's been nearly a week since Kayla left town. Not to San Diego like we all thought, but to Phoenix. I'm amazed at how quickly this new bit of information sweeps through our school. Apparently it was on the news last night, an attempt to jog some memories and warm up what seems to be turning into a cold case. And it must be working because today Kayla seems to be the hot topic of the locker room again.

  “So, if Kayla's in Phoenix,” Brittany says as she pulls on her jeans, “then whatever happened with that Colby dude she was supposed to marry down in San Diego?”

  I'm not sure who she's directing this question to, but I decide to field it myself. “Does anyone really know for sure that there ever was a Colby dude?” And now the locker room grows quieter. “I mean, did anyone ever see a photo of him? Did you see any of the e-mails she got from him?”

  “Well, you remember what Kayla told us last fall,” says Emma. “How she met him in San Diego. Are you saying she made that up?”

  “Well, the search for him in San Diego has come up empty,” Olivia points out. “And the newspaper said that Kayla's aunt had never heard of him.”

  “Besides,” I remind them, “Kayla didn't go to San Diego. Remember?”

  “But she went of her own free will to Phoenix,” says Brittany “Maybe she was going to meet Colby in Phoenix.”

  “Maybe Colby moved,” adds Emma.

  We continue speculating, going round and round, but mostly we don't land anywhere. And then it's lunchtime, and since it's Friday, Olivia and I are heading over to Sushi-Yaki to celebrate the end of the week.

  Olivia's older sister, Clair, and her husband opened up this little restaurant about a year ago, and they're struggling to make a go of it. We do our best to support them by eating there on Fridays. It's not that I'm into sushi, but I do like their teriyaki.

  “You know what I'm starting to think?” I ask Olivia after we visit with Clair and place our orders and sit down.

  “About what?”

  “About Kayla.”

  “What?”

  “I'm thinking that she made up that whole bit about Colby.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I was thinking about when Kayla told us about meeting this guy back in October when we were setting up the photo exhibit for the fall art fair. Emma had been going on and on about Parker this and Parker that. They were still dating then, and I could tell that it was bugging Kayla. Then suddenly she just started talking about this really cool guy she met in San Diego. And, well, it just sounded a little too convenient. Not only that, but he sounded a little too good to be true.”

  “And you know what they say about that.”

  “If it's too good to be true, it's not usually true.”

  “But what about the e-mails with the name Colby?” she asks.

  “That's just the thing. I was really trying to remember the conversation back in October, and to be honest, I can't say that I remember everything. But I do not recall her saying a name. In fact, I think that's what made me a little suspicious even then. I mean, how do you go on and on about a guy but never mention his name?”

  “Does seem a little weird.”

  “Here you go, ladies.” Dan, Clair's husband, sets our orders on the table. “Anything else?”

  “Looks good,” says Olivia.

  “Enjoy.” He wipes his hands on the front of his apron and grins.

  Then we bow our heads and silently pray. But just as I'm thinking Amen, I experience another flash of light—and suddenly I see a guy wiping his hands on the front of apron just like Dan did. But it's not Dan. This guy is a lot heavier than Dan. And older too. But I also see a name tag on the apron, one that's embroidered right into it. And it says Colby.

  “Olivia!” I say with wide eyes. “I just saw him!”

  “Jesus?” Olivia asks with a puzzled look.

  “No. Colby!”

  “Huh?”

  So I explain what just happened, in detail, and Olivia digs in her purse then hands me her phone.

  “Maybe I should get a cell phone of my own,” I mutter as I dial Ebony's number.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry if I'm interrupting your lunch,” I tell her. “Although something just interrupted mine. Something I thought you should hear about.”

  “Tell me.”

  So I try to explain the vision I just had.

  “Did you see the face of this guy, Samantha?”

  “Kind of. But I don't know how to describe it exactly. Except that he was old.”

  “How old?”
r />   “Like thirtysomething.”

  She sort of laughs. “That old, eh?”

  “Well, you know…”

  “So what was it about him that made you think he was old?”

  “Well, I'm not sure.” I try hard to remember. “But it seems as if he was sort of balding. I mean, he had hair, but maybe it was a receding hairline. And he just seemed older.”

  “Can you draw a picture of him?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, right. You saw my mountain-scape.”

  “I know—I'd like to put you together with Michael.”

  “Michael?”

  “Michael Taylor. A criminal composite artist I recently heard about. He's supposed to be amazingly good. I'll call and see if he's available. I think he lives in Portland. Can I call you back on Olivia's phone?”

  I glance at Olivia but know she'll agree. 'Yeah, I'm sure Olivia won't mind. Although she might start charging me for minutes.”

  “Maybe we should get you a cell phone of your own,” Ebony says suddenly. “Just for official use, of course.” 3

  “Oh, I don't know.”

  “Well, I'll get back to you. Keep Olivia's phone on.”

  I hang up and tell Olivia about Ebony's plan.

  “This is so exciting, Samantha. It's like God is really using you to find Kayla. Doesn't it feel cool?”

  I consider this. “Sometimes it does. But sometimes not so much. I mean, sometimes I get worried or scared or freaked that I'm going to mess up. And then I try to remember that God's in control and that He's calling the shots. But it's not all fun and games, you know.”

  “Yeah, but it's still cool.”

  “I guess.”

  We finish our lunch, and Ebony hasn't called back. “Do you want to keep my phone?”

  “No,” I tell her. “It's your phone.”

  “Like I'm getting any important calls.” She laughs. “Not like I have any kind of hot social life going on.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” she says as we get in her car. “I have Conrad Stiles in English, and he was asking me about you.”

  “About me?”

  “Yeah. And I thought it was interesting since Emma recently mentioned that she thought he was into you.”

  “That's just weird.”

  “Conrad is a cool guy, Samantha. Are you saying you wouldn't be interested in getting to know him better?”

  “No…” I think about this. “He is a cool guy. And I'm pretty sure he's a strong Christian too. I guess it's just hard to take seriously. Like what was he asking you about?”

  She snickers. “He wanted to find out if you were like Hannah Thornton.”

  “Hannah Thornton? What do you mean by that? I mean, I know she's a strong Christian, but we're not really anything alike.”

  “Hannah doesn't date, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “He wanted to know your dateability status. He thought maybe you were like Hannah in that regard?”

  “As in, have I kissed dating good-bye too?”

  She laughs.

  “Well, I suppose it's okay if some people want to think that. It makes a good reason for not dating.”

  “Not if it's not true.”

  “Maybe not. But it's not like I went out and told anyone that either.”

  “So, anyway, what do you want me to tell him, Sam?”

  I laugh nervously. “Tell him that I'm very picky.”

  “That's good.”

  “And that I'd have to get to know a guy as a friend first.”

  “Uh-huh. That's good too.”

  “And,” I'm trying not to laugh now, “you can tell him that I've taken an abstinence pledge, and I won't be having sex until marriage.”

  “Yeah, you bet, Samantha. Like I'm going to tell him that

  “Just testing.”

  “Thanks a lot.” 3

  “Oh, I don't care what you tell him, Olivia. It's not like it's going to matter anyway.”

  “So, you don't want to go out with him?”

  I shrug. “I don't know…maybe I should be like Hannah. It might be easier not to get involved with a guy. I mean, lookatKayla.”

  “Good point.”

  “Tell him whatever you want,” I say now. “As long as it's true, that is.”

  “Okay.”

  “Just make sure you report back to me afterward.”

  “Aha. See, I knew you were interested.”

  “Hey, I'm only human.”

  Then Olivia starts talking about Alex Fontaine, a guy who just happens to be Conrad's best friend. And suddenly I am putting two and two together.

  “You like Alex, don't you?”

  “Oh, I don't know…”

  “You do, Olivia!” I turn and stare at my best friend. “I know you do!”

  “What? Did you just have a vision or something?”

  “No, but I can see things with my eyes too. And your cheeks are getting red.”

  Her hand flies up to her face. “Are not.”

  “Are too!”

  And for the rest of the short ride to school, we argue over whether or not Olivia has a crush on Alex. And by the time we get there, I'm pretty sure she does. Now I'm teasing her mercilessly. It's fun to see Olivia squirm.

  © “Can you just stop?” she asks as we get out of her car.

  I'm laughing now. “Stop what?”

  “You know what.”

  “Okay.” We're barely inside the school when I spot Alex and Conrad. “There he is,” I whisper to Olivia. “Lover boy.”

  She turns around and glares at me. “Enough.”

  “Okay.” I nod. And I can tell'she's had enough. “Sorry,” I say quickly.

  “You better be.” Then we walk past Conrad and Alex, but as they say hi, I get the feeling that they were watching us the whole time. And I'm thinking, Hey, this could be fun.

  Still, as I hurry to biology, I remind myself of what happened to Kayla. I think of how complicated her life got when she started dating and dating and dating. And I think of how she fell away from God the more she got involved. And then how she started going with Parker, her true love, and how she and Emma got into that horrible fight over a boy. And finally, as I'm sitting in my seat, staring at Kayla's empty chair in front of me, I think about how she disappeared only a week ago. And how I feel certain that she's in some kind of serious trouble. If that's what having a boyfriend gets you, well, count me out. Maybe I will follow Hannah Thornton's example and kiss dating good-bye myself!

  Nine

  It's not until school ends that Olivia informs me that Ebony called for me during sixth period. “I thought I'd find you before seventh, but I was running late. Anyway, she left a message for you to stop by the precinct after school. Want me to drop you off?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No. Actually, I'm sort of curious about why she wants to see you.”

  “Maybe she got ahold of the artist guy, and we're going to create beautiful pictures together.”

  “Well, promise to call me if anything new develops,” Olivia tells me as she drops me in front of the police station. “Or call if you need a ride.”

  “Thanks.” As I walk up the steps to the station, I realize that I haven't been here in years. I pause on the top step and just stand there. I have this very strong feeling that my dad is nearby. And okay, it might just be because the only times I was ever here had to do with him. Or maybe he really is.

  “Going in, miss?” a uniformed officer holds the front door open for me.

  “Thanks,” I tell him as I go inside. Still, I want to hold on to that feeling, that sense that Dad was here, that maybe he's helping to watch over me. I wish he could give me some clues about Kayla. But maybe God doesn't work like that.

  “I'm here to see Detective Hamilton,” I tell the middleaged woman at the front desk.

  “Your name?”

  “Samantha McGregor.”

  She looks up at me. “Cliff's little girl?”
<
br />   I study her for a moment then nod.

  “You don't remember me, do you, honey?”

  I shake my head.

  “I'm Bernice Waters. I knew your dad for years.”

  “Oh yeah. I do remember you. But I never saw you at this desk before.”

  “Just sitting in for one of the girls. We gotta help each other out, you know.” Then she tells me how to find Ebony and I wander back past the familiar desks and cubicles. Not much has changed since the last time I was here. I pause by the desk that my dad used to sit at. Relieved that no one is here right now, I run my hand over the top of it and just remember.

  “Samantha,” Ebony says as she comes around the corner. “I was hoping I wouldn't miss you. I just got here.” She pauses as she realizes where I'm standing then slowly nods. “Yeah, that's right where your dad sat,” she says in a lowered voice. “Officer Parks uses that desk now. He's a good guy too.” Then she pats me on the back. “Let's head on down to my office. Want a soda or anything?”

  We stop by the soda machine, and I'm surprised that it too looks just the same. I feel like I've stepped into a time warp. Ebony gets me a Pepsi and a Diet Pepsi for herself; then we go into her office and sit down.

  “I spoke to Michael Taylor right after you called at lunchtime.”

  “Is he here?”

  “No. He can't come until tomorrow morning. Will that work for you?”

  I nod.

  “Hang on, let me tell Eric to put that call through to Michael and get it all set up.”

  So I sit here and sip my soda as she takes care of the details. But the whole time I'm thinking about Dad. I'm thinking that he's glad I'm here. That he's watching over me.

  “There,” she says. “That's settled. Now J want to tell you what Michael told me.” She pulls out a notepad. “He faxed me some questions to ask you while the image is still fairly fresh in your head. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay now, let me warn you…Michael is, well, he's a little unconventional. Not exactly what you'd call a psychic, and I know you don't like that word. But he relies more on feelings than facts. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I'm not sure.”

  “Well, he wanted you to just close your eyes while I ask you some questions. Are you okay with that?”