Thread of Truth, стр. 3

Alice sighed and leaned back into the sofa. Tom reached over and touched her shoulder. She laid her hand on top of his.

“He stole a car,” Tom said quietly. “To this day, I'm still not sure why. I'm not sure he knew why he did it. I think he got pressured into doing it by a few of his so-called friends. I'm not making excuses for him. It was his choice and it was incredibly stupid. But he's never been able to provide us with a real reason as to why he did it.”

“He kept saying it was because he was dumb,” Alice said. “He said he was just being dumb and thinking he could get away with it.”

“He was still using, too,” Tom said. “He was high when he did it. So he wasn't in a state to make smart decisions.” He paused for a moment. “They played a game at the mall. They walked the lot, sticking their hands into the wheel wells of cars, seeing if they could find one of those little magnetic boxes that holds a spare key. Desmond was the first one to find one.” He sighed, shaking his head. “So he was arrested. The car was reported stolen by the owner within fifteen minutes of him taking it from the mall. They stopped him over by UCSD. I honestly thought it was a mistake when they called us. I couldn't believe he'd done it. But he had.”

My gaze drifted to the wall behind the Lockers, back to the family portrait. They were on the beach with Desmond, all three dressed in white collared shirts and khakis. He was between his parents, their arms draped around him. It had been a breezy day judging by the way their hair blew back, away from their faces. Desmond was taller than both his parents, and he had that kind of awkward smile a teenager puts on when they have to pose for a picture with their family. But he didn't look unhappy.

“When they found out he was on probation, they took him to the juvenile detention facility,” Tom continued. “We were able to get him released that evening, but I don't think any of us said too much.”

Alice shook her head.

“He had a hearing three days later,” Tom said. “Same judge, but not nearly as sympathetic this time around. Gave him a short lecture and remanded him into custody of the juvenile facility for twenty-one days.”

“How'd that go over?” I asked.

“He was scared from the moment the judge issued the order,” Tom said. “So were we. We had no experience with that. We didn't know what it would be like for him and no matter what he'd done, he was still our son.” He looked toward his wife, who was back to staring at the couch. “But I think it really was for the best.”

Alice nodded curtly. “It was. He came out of there different from when he'd gone in. I don't know how to describe it, but we could just see it. The first thing he asked us was if he should go to rehabilitation. I think we were surprised by it, because from everything we'd read and learned, marijuana use wasn't addictive, and we never saw any evidence that he was an alcoholic. But he said he wanted to go to get his act together, to figure out how to not keep doing the same things. He was assigned a counselor after his release and she was in agreement about Des needing rehab.” Her voice broke a little and she cleared her throat. “The counselor recommended a place out in Indian Wells that specialized in teenagers. We had him there two days later and he was there for eight weeks.” She looked at me, offering a watery smile. “When he walked out, it was like our kid was back.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “It really was. The sense of humor was back. The sarcasm. His smile was different. He just looked different, like the kid we hadn't seen in quite some time.”

“How did he feel about rehab?” I asked.

“He said it was hard at first, then not as hard, then great,” Tom said. “Those were his words. He was playing basketball every day. Swimming. Reading. No electronics. They had their group meetings. He had a mentor there. He had a plan when he came out and he pretty much stuck to it.”

The coffee on the table still smelled good, but I was certain it had cooled to a temperature that wasn't to my liking. “What was the plan?”

“Apologize to friends he'd alienated,” Tom explained. “Let the friends he didn't want to be around know he was done. Get his grades up. Get a job. Start planning for college.” His smile was wistful. “And he did all of those things. It really was like we’d gotten our son back. It was great.”

Alice nodded.

“You said pretty much stuck to the plan,” I said. “Did something not go right?”

They exchanged nervous glances for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

I waited.

“It's the reason we don't believe he's run away,” Tom finally said. “It's the thing he was most excited about, and the thing that I think was pushing him to stay on the right path.”

“Okay. What was it?”

Tom lifted the cup of coffee he was holding, holding it halfway to his lips. “He was about to become a father.”