Payback (8 page)

About an hour later Mom announces that the pizza is here. But I’m surprised to see she ordered a big one. “Expecting company?” I ask as I sit at the island across from her.

“I’d hoped maybe Steven would stop by you know, to help me with the bank mix-up.”

“Has he called?” I ask as I reach for a slice.

“No, and that’s got me worried. He usually returns my calls right away. I hope nothing’s wrong with him.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s a bad flu bug going around.”

“Have you ever been to his place?” I ask. “What do you mean by that?” She frowns at me. “I mean, have you seen where he lives? Like is it an apartment?” I persist. “Or a house or what?”

“I haven’t been there…”

“Oh.”

“And if you’re insinuating that he and I have been, well, you know…” She gives me a look. “It’s really none of your business.”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything of the sort,” I say defensively. “I was just curious as to how much you really know about him.”

“And why is that, Samantha?”

“I don’t know…but it seems a little mysterious.”

“In what way?”

“So, you don’t know where he lives or where he works, and yet you let him invest money for you. Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

“I think your job at the police station makes you overly suspicious of people.” I can tell she’s mad now as she puts a couple of slices of pizza on a plate and stands. “And I think I’d rather eat by myself than with a daughter who makes accusations about a man I am seriously involved with. It was bad enough having Zachery turn on me, Samantha, but I expected better from you.” And then she walks out and heads upstairs to her room.

So much for my wonderful sleuthing skills. Now I just hope that Steven doesn’t show up tonight, because I’m pretty sure Mom would tell him what I said. Time to lie low.

Because she has a dentist appointment, Olivia and I take separate cars to school on Wednesday. After school ends, I go straight to the precinct, straight to Ebony’s office, and I tell her the whole story of how I made what Mom called “suspicious accusations” last night, how she got mad at me for questioning Steven, and how she still wasn’t talking to me this morning.

“I really blew it.”

She sort of nods, but her expression is slightly grim.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your mother left Steven’s cell phone number at the office for me,” she says. “I only got to it a couple of hours ago.”

“And?”

“Does the name Greg Hampton sound familiar?”

I shrug. “Not really. Should it?”

“I discovered that the number your mother gave me for Steven is actually under Greg Hampton’s name.”

“Who’s Greg Hampton? A friend of Steven’s?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Want to see some photos I just pulled up?”

“Of Greg Hampton?”

“Yes, or a.k.a. Steven Lowery, whichever the case may be.”

“Huh?”

“I think your mom’s boyfriend may have changed his name a few times.”

It doesn’t take long before I spot a photo that looks exactly like Steven, or Greg, or whatever his name really is. I feel a mixture of relief and shock as I point to it. I’m relieved that I’ve finally been able to identify a person by his photo, but I’m shocked to see that Steven’s real name is actually Gregory John Hampton. Not only that, but he’s wanted in several states for fraud.

“Greg seems to have moved steadily westward,” Ebony points out as she reads the details of the report. “His MO seems to be presenting himself as a successful stockbroker. Nice clothes, nice car, good-looking guy—quite a package.”

“That sounds like Steven, or whatever his name is.” I frown. “What does MO stand for anyway? I mean, I know it means the way a person does something, but what are the initials really for?”

She sort of smiles, but her eyes are troubled. “MO stands for modus operandi, and that’s Latin for ‘mode of operation’— the methods a person uses.”

“Right.”

“According to this, Steven’s MO is to move to a new town and meet a vulnerable woman who possibly has money. He
seems to prefer older women and widows. He begins dating them, wins their trust, promises them a great investment opportunity, then cleans them out before he heads on to his next target. As far as I can tell, he started this whole nasty business after 9/11. He targeted a policeman’s widow in New York City. Apparently he has just the right sympathetic touch when it comes to tragedy.”

I sink into the chair by Ebony’s desk as I try to absorb this horrible news. “So he is responsible for my mom’s messed-up finances?”

“That’s my best guess. The big questions are if this jerk is still around and if we can catch him.” She picks up her phone now, quickly dispenses some information, issues an APB for him, and then enters something into her computer as well.

“What about my mom?” I ask weakly.

She nods. “I’m going to go see her myself. I don’t think this is something you need to handle, Samantha.”

“She’s going to be crushed.”

“It’s good that she has you…”

I nod, wondering if that’s how Mom will see it. Or will she think this is somehow partially my fault? I know that seems completely unreasonable, but I remember how defensive she became over Steven last night. Like he was such a wonderful guy and I was somehow disloyal for questioning his integrity. Hopefully, she’ll believe Ebony.

I
’m not mad at you, Samantha!” yelled my mom. Okay, her tone wasn’t exactly convincing. Nor was the fact that she’d been slamming things as she supposedly cleaned up the kitchen, which wasn’t really in need of cleaning—just another sign she was seriously ticked. But I wasn’t about to argue with her tonight. Instead, I slipped off to my room where I planned to lie low until she calmed down—although it appeared that might take a few weeks.

Naturally, she was not the least bit pleased with Ebony’s news. I’m not even sure she completely believes it. When she came home after six, at first she almost acted like this was some kind of conspiracy Ebony and I had cooked up against her. Like we just wanted to make her life miserable. Then she went into this “I’m not mad at you” rage, and I decided to stay out of her hair.

My big mistake was getting hungry, which resulted in me sneaking down to the kitchen. I thought the coast was clear since it sounded quiet, and I wanted to get a little something to eat. But when Mom saw me, she started ranting all over again. So I retreated with my string cheese and orange juice back to my room. Do I think this is fair? Of course not. But just the
same, I do feel for my mom. I know she’s hurting and frustrated. Still, as I pointed out, she would be much better off if she could simply give this whole thing to God. He’s the only one who can really sort this stuff out.

At least Olivia proved a sympathetic listener. Aggravated by my mom’s immature reaction to the unfortunate news, I told Olivia the whole story, and she was incredulous.

“Your mom needs a good lawyer,” she told me. “Go after that loser and make him pay her back.”

“Yeah, Ebony pretty much said the same thing. And she definitely will do that, but in the meantime she’s enraged and impossible.”

“I’ll be praying for her,” promised Olivia. “And you too.”

Her empathy was encouraging, but now, as I feel somewhat trapped and lonely up here, I decide to call Zach. After all, he may be messed up, but he’s part of this family. And it might encourage him to know that his instincts about Steven were right on.

“No way!” he exclaims after I quickly relay most of the story. I don’t go into all the details of how much money Steven stole from us, since I don’t want to upset Zach too much.

“Pretty unbelievable, huh?”

“I always got a bad feeling from that guy. Remember how he was all over my case when we took the ski trip?”

“Well, to be fair, you kind of deserved it.”

“Maybe…but not from him.”

“That’s true.”

“How’s Mom taking it?”

“She’s in a rage.”

“Figures. You can’t really blame her.”

“So how are you doing, Zach? How’s life?”

“Pretty good. This is a really great place.”

“Fantastic.”

“Good people and good stuff.” He pauses. “I was going to write you a letter, but I guess I’ll just tell you now.”

“Tell me what?”

“I totally recommitted my heart to the Lord, Sam.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yeah. I can see now that it’s been the missing link all along. There’s no way I can stay sober without God in my life. I need Him.”

“That’s awesome, Zach.”

“I’ve been thinking about Dad lately.”

•Yeah?”

“It’s like I can sort of feel his presence, like he’s nearby or something. Is that weird or what?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. My guess is that as you get closer to God, it will naturally—or supernaturally—make you feel you’re closer to Dad too.”

“Does that ever happen with you?”

“Yeah, actually it does. Lots of times I get this unexplainable reassurance that Dad’s up there…that he’s rooting for us, you know, kind of like he’s cheering us on.”

“Do you think he’s cheering Mom on right now?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“That’s cool.”

“Well, I should probably go,” I tell him as I glance at the clock. “I know you’re not supposed to be on the phone more than five minutes at a time.”

“Yeah. But thanks for calling, Sam. I mean, I’m really sorry to hear about Mom getting hurt and everything. But it’s kind of reassuring to know I was right about that creep. I guess I should be glad I’m not home right now. I’d probably do something stupid like hunt him down and just make things worse.”

“We need to let the police take care of it.”

“Yeah. Hopefully, that jerk will be behind bars soon…just like Tate.”

“That’s what I’m praying for.”

“I’ll pray too.”

Then we say good-bye and hang up. It sounds quiet downstairs again, and I briefly consider going down and trying to make peace with my mom, but then I decide it might be better to wait until she makes the first move. I don’t see any point in talking to her until she’s ready. Who knows how long it will take her to get over this?

Maybe the only thing I can do to help is to pray for her. And hearing Zach say how he’s realized his need for God does give me new hope for Mom. Sometimes it takes some hard knocks to get us to the place where we finally cry out to God for help. Maybe that’s what will happen with Mom.

On Thursday I drive over to McKinley High. Ebony has arranged for me to be on campus for the entire day. I go to the office, where they’re expecting me and have even prepared a fake schedule for me. I’ve studied the yearbook and am hoping that I’ll see something to tip us off today. Maybe I can spot and even meet the girl who will be wearing the pale green dress later.

“You can’t tell us what this is about?” asks the vice principal with obvious curiosity. “Not even a hint?”

“Sorry.” I give him a serious look.

“Police business.” He nods firmly. “Detective Hamilton assured us that you’d be keeping it under wraps.”

“For now, at least.”

“Well, good luck.”

It’s kind of interesting, at least to begin with, doing investigative work while incognito, but as the day slowly (very slowly) winds down, I almost forget that I’m not really at school. Also, I’m missing my friends and realizing how it feels to be the new girl at a school where no one seems to want to meet me. Not that I’m trying to make friends, but the kids here seem pretty self-absorbed. Of course, I’m sure my school would be the same way for a newcomer. This is a good reminder to me to be more friendly when a new student comes on campus.

By the end of the day, I feel seriously discouraged. I have not spotted the girl. And although I’ve eavesdropped on various conversations that seemed prom related, I’m not finding out anything that seems to be helpful or even terribly informative. However, seeing these students and remembering my dream, I feel more determined than ever to stop this. I cannot imagine what it would feel like to be here at this school next week if a number of the students had been brutally murdered over the weekend. Ebony said that if we had concrete evidence that McKinley was really the school in my dreams, we might be able to cancel or postpone the prom, but as it is, we don’t know this for sure. It’s as if our hands are tied. And I can’t help but feel partially to blame.

As I drive back to Brighton, I try to make sense of my life. Rather, I try to figure out what God is up to in my life. For starters…this thing with Steven. Did God try to show me this before and I just missed it? My intuitions about Steven were negative from the get-go. As were Zach’s. And yet I assumed it was just because I resented that he sort of monopolized Mom’s time and attention. But maybe I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe God gave me those intuitions as a warning. But so much was going on…the thing with Zach…and Felicity. How am I supposed to keep track of all these things?

Finally I realize that all I can do is simply give it back to God. I believe He made me…He gave me this gift…it’s up to Him to sort it out. All I can do is be available and willing. Fretting over it will not help one bit. But prayer will. And so I decide to commit the rest of this afternoon to prayer. And as weird as it sounds, I go home and go inside my closet to do this. Jesus taught that we shouldn’t make a big deal about praying, and we should never do it for attention. So I follow His advice and go into my closet and close the door, and to my amazement, it’s very cool. And by the time I emerge, feeling slightly like a mole as I blink in the light, I am at peace. Somehow God is going to work things out. I believe this.

By Friday afternoon Conrad is so concerned about his little sister that he and Alex have decided to drive up to Seattle to pay her a visit in the hospital, where she’s about to be treated with some new medication. “It’s supposed to be really good,” he tells us as we stand in the school parking lot. “But it’s also
somewhat dangerous. My dad said that it sounds like she’ll either get a lot better…or worse.”

“I told Conrad that this calls for a road trip.” Alex pats him on the back. “We should be in Seattle by eight o’clock.”