Page 47 of Rock and a Hard Place

“This room’s clear, just the girl,” an annoyed voice called.

In the moonlit room, she saw the shadowed men look at each other and share an unspoken thought. They hauled her to her feet, and before she could react, cold smooth metal clicked tight around her wrist. Her arm was pulled to the head of her bed where the other end clicked around the wrought-iron bar.

Dumbfounded, she looked at her wrist and back at the men.What the hell?

“To keep you from running off.” The dark man answered her unspoken question.

Simultaneously, the two giants turned and left herroom. Large white letters were printed on the back of their coats.

SWAT

Relief and dread washed over her as she struggled to take a deep breath. They weren’t here to attack her; they were here for the drugs. She moved her arm and found it securely locked to the bed. Did they suspect her? With her luck, Aunt Marge would pin the drugs on her. The kids at school would love this.

Miss Orman must have reported it. It was stupid to have told her. Libby paused. Why should she want to protect Aunt Marge? She was a hideous person who deserved what she got. Libby no longer heard her aunt’s screeching, but could imagine her going ballistic. A tiny smile lit her face.

As Libby’s pulse slowed to a healthier pace, she noticed more men lurking outside, covertly checking all the outbuildings as if they were on a police detective show. The moonlight illuminated the yard, revealing how they used hand signals as they rushed from building to building. As the minutes passed, their urgency slowed and lights began to appear in the barn.

Libby grinned. Aunt Marge was going down.

Unable to do much else, Libby watched from her window as the SWAT team took pictures and started moving the contents of the barn. Had they forgotten about her? It seemed like hours had passed, but it might have only beenminutes. She looked out across the fields to Parfrey’s Glen, at one time her sanctuary, and then, after meeting Peter, her haven. Would he ever stop there again? No, probably not. She sat on the edge of the bed, head low. Why did life have to suck so much?

A few minutes later, a woman startled her when she walked into the room. Libby never heard her on the stairs. “Hi, I’m Officer Decker and I’m going to take you downstairs to ask you some questions. Do you understand?”

The officer stood as formidable as a giant oak. “Yes, ma’am,” Libby answered.

“Stand up, please. I’m going to move this cuff from the bed to your other wrist.”

“Please don’t do that. I didn’t do anything wrong. Honest,” Libby implored, but obeyed her instruction.

“It’s policy. Until you’ve been released from suspicion, we need to take precautions.”

Libby sat in the back of a squad car. She had never wondered what getting arrested would be like, but now the experience was forever ingrained in her mind. She absorbed the view of massive equipment in the front of the car. The equipment seemed more useful to fly a jet plane than track down small-town drug dealers.

Officer Decker turned down the volume on the police radio, but it still squawked in the background. Tiny redand yellow lights lit the console. A strong scent permeated the vehicle, a combination of leather, plastic, and unknown smells she’d rather not guess at. She sank back into the seat, miserable.

“Thanks for your patience, Libby. I know this has been a long night.” Officer Decker’s demeanor changed now that the authorities knew she had nothing to do with Aunt Marge’s drug business. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone we can call for you? A friend or neighbor?”

“Nope. No one.” Her only friend was Peter, and he had disconnected himself from her life. What would she say if she could get through to him? Hi, you don’t want to be with me anymore, but can you save me from my train wreck of a life?

“Anyone at school?” Officer Decker was reaching for someone, anyone to call, but the fact was, no one existed. Just her dad, and they already knew he’d deserted her.

“There is one person,” Libby started. Officer Decker’s eyes lit, her pad open and pen ready. “My school counselor, Miss Orman, but she’s out of town for Thanksgiving weekend.”

“I see.” The officer appeared disappointed as she closed the pad. Why would she care if Libby had no friends?

“Can I go back inside now?” Despite all the adrenaline from earlier, Libby felt exhausted. She wanted to collapse into bed and put this awful episode behind her.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. This is a crime scene and it will be investigated for the next few days, maybe longer.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” Libby sat up and peeked through the wire divider protecting the officer from the dangerous suspects trapped in the backseat.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to determine. You’re too old for foster care.” The officer seemed disappointed.

“Foster care! What are you talking about? I’m almost seventeen. I can take care of myself. All I need is a place to stay until I can get back in the house.” There was no way they were putting her in some foster home. The only things she ever heard about foster homes were stories about weird people who took in kids for the state money, and the kids were often abused.

“Calm down,” the officer interrupted. “As I said, you’re too old. Foster care is designed for younger kids, not older teens.”

“How soon until my aunt is out? I’ll be fine until she posts bail or whatever she needs to do.” Libby didn’t know how she’d come up with money to post bail and could barely believe she was now lobbying to stay with her aunt. What a strange twist of fate. Now maybe Aunt Marge needed her. How long should she let her sit locked up before helping her out?

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