Night Fever Read Online Free Page B

drug. She had to stop him somehow before he got in over his head. The first step was going to be keeping him away from those Harris boys. She didn’t know how she was going to manage it, but she’d have to find a way.
    She covered him with a blanket, because it was simpler to let him sleep where he was than to cope with moving him. Clay was already almost six feet tall, and he weighed more than she did. She couldn’t lift him. Crack, of all things. She didn’t have to wonder how he’d gotten it, either. His friends had probably given it to him. Well, with any luck, it would only be this once and she’d stop him before he could do it again.
    She went into her bedroom and lay down on the worn coverlet in her cotton gown, feeling old. Perhaps things would look better in the morning. She could ask Reverend Fox at church to talk to Clay—that might do a little good. Kids needed something to hold on to, to get them through the hard times. Drugs and religion were opposite ends of a security blanket, and religion was certainly preferable. Her own faith had taken her through some storms.
    She closed her eyes and slept. The next morning, she got Mack off to school, but Clay wouldn’t get up.
    â€œWe’ll talk when I get home,” she told him firmly. “You aren’t going out with those boys again.”
    â€œWant to bet?” he asked her, his eyes challenging. “Stop me. What can you do?”
    â€œWait and see,” she replied, mentally praying she could think of something.
    She went to work worrying about it. She’d settled Granddad and asked him to talk to Clay, but he seemed to want to hide his head in the sand about Clay’s difficult behavior. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d failed so miserably with Scott, his son, and couldn’t admit that he was failing again with his grandson. The old man had a double dose of pride.
    Maggie glanced at her as she sat brooding at her desk. “Anything I can do?” she asked softly, so that nobody else could hear.
    â€œNo, but thank you,” Becky told her with a smile. “You’re a nice lady, Maggie.”
    â€œJust a fellow human being,” the older woman corrected. “Life has storms, but they pass. Just hang on to the tree until the wind stops, that’s all you have to do. After all, Becky, no wind blows forever, good or bad.”
    Becky laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”
    And she did. Right up until that afternoon when the call came from the magistrate’s office, informing her that Clay had been picked up for drug possession. Mr. Gillen, the magistrate, told her that he’d called the D.A. and they’d both talked to Clay, after which they’d sent him over to the juvenile detention center while they decided whether or not to book him. He had a pocketful of crack when he’d been picked up, drunk, in the company of the Harris boys outside town.
    The decision to press charges for felony possession was up to the D.A., Mr. Gillen said, and Becky could bet that if Kilpatrick had enough evidence, he’d go for a conviction. He was very hard on people who dealt drugs.
    Becky thanked Gillen for telephoning her personally and walked immediately into Bob Malcolm’s office to ask for advice.
    Mr. Malcolm patted her absently on the shoulder after he’d closed the door, to spare her any scrutiny by people in the waiting room.
    â€œWhat do I do? What can I do?” Becky asked him miserably. “They say he’s got over an ounce and a half on him. That it could mean a felony charge.”
    â€œBecky, it’s your father who should do something,” he said firmly.
    â€œHe isn’t in town right now,” she said. Well, it was true. He hadn’t been in town for two years, and he hadn’t been responsible for his children ever. “And my grandfather isn’t well,” she added. “He has a bad heart.”
    Bob Malcolm shook