Rock and a Hard Place

chapter 16

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and paralysis turned to action. Libby leapt off the bed, searching the room for a safe hiding place. The closet held almost nothing and wouldn’t conceal her; the furniture was sparse with nothing to hide behind. In unbearable panic she ran to the bed and began to crawl under it, smacking her chin on the floor and scraping her shoulder against the ancient frame.

Her bedroom door burst open and two enormous men rushed in. Their bright flashlights caught her attempt at escape.

Her heart nearly exploded as she clawed to fit under the bed.

They were on her in an instant. Rough hands dragged her back out, causing her nightshirt to slide up and reveal her bare legs and underwear.

“No!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping to alert someone, anyone to help. She dug her fingernails into the threadbare carpet, and kicked out at her attackers. Pure terror consumed her.

Libby fought their vicious attack with a strength she never knew she possessed. A heavy boot slammed into her back, knocked the wind out of her and pinned her to the floor. Her heart pounded huge loud thunks. Tears streaked her face in defeat. As she struggled to breathe, the men flipped her over and blinded her with their bright flashlights.

“Jesus, Smith, she’s a kid,” one of the attackers said.

“Like that makes a difference,” the other responded.

“Back off, let her breathe,” the first voice said.

A set of hands moved away, but the other kept her locked in an iron grip. The lights left her face and moved expertly throughout the room.

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

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 puled 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 hel?

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

Simultaneously the two giants turned and left her room. 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 pot. 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 have a field day with this.

Miss Orman must have reported it. How stupid of Libby to tel her. Wait a minute. Why would she want to protect Aunt Marge? She was a hideous person who deserved what she got.

Libby no longer heard her screeching, but could imagine her going balistic. A tiny smile lit her face.

As Libby’s pulse slowed to a healthier pace, she noticed more men lurking outside covertly checking al the outbuildings as if they were on an episode of CSI. The moonlight iluminated 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.

Jackpot!

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. 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?” She 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 psyche. 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 smal-town drug dealers.

Officer Decker turned down the volume on the police radio, but it stil squawked in the background. Tiny red and yelow lights lit the console. A strong scent permeated the vehicle, a combination of leather, plastic, and unknown smels 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 pot seling. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone we can cal for you? A friend or neighbor?”

“Nope. No one.” Her only friend was Peter and he 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 any more, but can you save me from my train wreck of a life?

“Anyone at school?” Officer Decker was reaching for someone, anyone to cal, 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 al the adrenaline from earlier, Libby felt dog tired. She wanted to colapse into bed and put this awful episode behind her.

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

“Where wil I 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. Al 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’l 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 now lobbied 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?

“I’m afraid your aunt wil be tied up in the legal system for quite some time. In addition to growing marijuana with intent to deliver, which is a misdemeanor crime, she wil likely be charged with child neglect and contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“Child neglect? Delinquency of a minor? Come on, I’m fine.” A sense of dread choked her. Things weren’t so bad here. Didn’t they see how clean she kept her room?

“Look at where you’re sitting right now. A responsible adult would not have put you in this situation.” Officer Decker pierced her with a knowing look. Libby slumped against the seat, temporarily out of words to argue.

The officer turned forward, picked up her radio and clicked the side button. “Officer Decker at number 4319 County Road T.

Need Del County Social Services for system placement of a sixteen-year-old female.”

The radio crackled. “Local placement isn’t possible until after the holiday weekend. You’l be looking at transfer placement to a group home in Milwaukee County.”

Libby shot forward, grabbing the metal divider that kept her from the horrible radio. “What do you mean group home?” She gripped the thick metal and shook it to get the officer’s attention.

“You can’t send me to a group home. Please, I can’t go there.” Her dread exploded into ful-scale panic. Bad things happened at those places.

“Headquarters, have Social Service contact me on the private line.” The officer glanced at Libby as she spoke, then replaced the radio piece to the console.

“Please listen. My dad needs to know where I am. If I’m not here, he won’t know how to find me.” She rattled the divider, wanting to crawl through to the other side and knock sense into the stubborn woman.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no other way. You said yourself there isn’t anyone else to step in. No family, no neighbors, no friends.

You’l be fine,” she said in a tone that told Libby she didn’t believe her own words. “Sit tight, I’l be back after finishing up your transfer arrangements.” She opened the door to the patrol car.

“Wait! Don’t go.” She needed to convince the officer to let her stay at the farmhouse. She couldn’t let them send her away.

Officer Decker offered a strained smile but exited the car, shutting the door firmly. Libby pounded on the metal divider like a criminal gone berserk. She imagined she’d live with her aunt until graduation or until her dad came back. This was beyond horrible.

Her life was spinning into a total disaster. How could her dad leave her to this?