Chapter 19

19

P eter was running out of ideas. He'd spent the last weeks since he learned Libby had been placed in a foster home trying to track her down, which wasn't easy when he was stuck in Europe on tour. He waited as his call was transferred. Praying the woman answered.

"Hello, this is Julie Orman."

Thank God . "Hi, Miss Orman, I was hoping you could help me. I'm trying to find a girl who recently went to your school. Her name is Libby Sawyer."

"Excuse me, who's calling?" she asked.

"I'm a friend of Libby's. She and I had a misunderstanding, and then I heard she left town. I've been trying everything I can think of to track her down, but no one will help me."

"I'm sorry, the school isn't allowed to give out student information, particularly in a situation like hers," the woman explained politely yet firmly.

"Please, you have to help me. I've talked to people in Milwaukee, at the Department of Family Services, Child Welfare, and the foster system. No one will tell me anything. I didn't know where else to call." He was distraught and had exhausted all his options.

"I'd like to help you, I truly would. Libby was a special student to me, but you seem to already know as much as I do. I have also been trying to locate her and reach out to help. So far, the only people they'll release information to are her parents or guardians."

He exhaled, defeated.

"You aren't family, are you?" she asked. "No," his answered. "I'm her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? What is your name?" Miss Orman asked, sounding cautious.

"Peter Jamieson."

"Oh God."

"Excuse me?"

"Libby told me about you, but I wasn't too sure. You wouldn't happen to be in . . ."

"In a band? Yeah." He laughed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I'm so sorry." Miss Orman sounded surprised.

"Libby told me about you a few times, but I wasn't sure. Her situation is . . . unusual. I was beginning to think she dreamt you up."

Now that she knew his connection to Libby, he felt sure this woman could help him. "We aren't the most obvious couple. Listen, I really need to know if she's okay. Do you know where her dad is? Did they find him? Is she with him?"

"No, they haven't been able to locate him. I wish they had. I'm sure he'd be worried sick. Since you know she's been put in the system already, I'm not breaking any rules. But that's all I know. I'm sure she's doing fine. It's got to be better than where she was."

He hoped the counselor spoke the truth.

"I wish I could help, I really do. I've been trying to locate her, but there is so much red tape blocking the process. Her caseworker hasn't returned any of my calls or emails. At this point, I don't know when I'll learn anything, if ever."

His heart fell. A heavy silence weighed between them, his despair palpable.

"Listen, Libby and I had a bit of a connection. It's possible she might contact me. If she does, I can have her get ahold of you. Or if I hear any news, I can let you know."

"That would be awesome. Thank you. You don't know how great that is to hear." It was so amazing to speak to someone who actually knew Libby and cared about her.

"Well, it's a long shot. I may never hear from her."

"But you might, and it's the best news I've heard in weeks." He gave her his cell number and their manager's office number, too. "I'm in Europe on tour, so I might not get your call. But leave a message, and it'll catch up to me. Miss Orman, I can't thank you enough."

"No problem. I'm happy to do anything I can."

Peter heard the sound of a school bell in the background.

"I've got to go, but, Peter, thanks for calling and good luck on your tour."

"Thank you." His spirits improved. At least one other person out there wanted to help Libby.

A few days later as the sound check dragged on, Peter sat on a stool mid-stage waiting as the engineers made adjustments. Each minute felt like an hour. He glanced up and noticed Adam and Garrett gesturing back and forth. When they noticed him watching, both froze.

"What?" Peter asked, irritated.

"Nothing," Garrett said.

"We have something to show you," Adam confessed. "But we don't want to upset you."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You've been about to rip our heads off for the past week," Adam answered.

"Yeah, well. Sorry," Peter said, not meaning it. "Can we do it later?"

"No, we can't," Garrett stated, impatient. He spoke into his mic: "Hey, Brian, play that video now, will ya?"

Peter saw concern in his brothers' eyes. Each held an acoustic guitar.

The lights in the arena dimmed. Garrett and Adam started to play.

An image of Libby, larger than life, filled the giant screens on each side of the stage. A smile lit her beautiful face; her blue eyes sparkled. Next came a picture of them talking, heads close as if sharing a secret. At first, Peter was confused, as he'd never seen the pictures before. He realized Adam's voyeuristic ways with his camera finally paid off. A few seconds later, another image appeared, this time of him and Libby sitting on the large boulder at Parfrey's Glen. Her long, blond hair blew in the breeze. Light freckles sprinkled her cheeks and a look of utter contentment shone on her face.

Transfixed, Peter moved across the stage for a direct view, never taking his eyes off the screen. Photo after photo appeared before him. Many showed the two of them together laughing, all with the beautiful backdrop of Parfrey's Glen. He had no idea Adam had taken all these pictures on that perfect September day. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

As the images continued to materialize across the screen, his brothers played an achingly familiar tune. The song he wrote for Libby: "Angel Kisses."

Peter released a breath that he felt he'd been holding for days. This was their tribute to her, for him. Garrett and Adam never understood how much he cared about her until she was torn away.

When the song ended, a final photo filled the screen of the two of them walking up the path toward the bus. Her hand held firmly in his, she gazed up at him with total trust. Every emotion of love revealed on her face.

He missed her with every ounce of his soul, but now he had a bit of her back. Her image remained on the screen after the music ended.

Adam stepped next to him. "I thought you might like this. We could play your song with this video playing in the background."

Garrett stepped beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I've been a jerk, and I was wrong. I didn't realize how much she meant to you. I guess I was jealous of how happy you were. I took her away from you and that was wrong. Here's a little bit of her back. It might give you a reason to want to sing again."

Garrett's eyes searched Peter's. Peter saw the heartfelt remorse from his brother, and he nodded his forgiveness.

"Yeah, I'd like that." His voice cracked. Maybe his brothers weren't so bad after all.

Libby tried to cry out for help but didn't get a chance. Sophie grabbed her by the hair and slammed her against the wall. Then she grabbed Libby's arm and twisted it behind her back. Piercing pain shot up her arm and shoulder. Sophie shoved her face against the sandy-textured paint, scraping her raw.

"Listen, bitch, don't you ever cross me again. If you say one more word to Scott about me, I'll break your arm."

Libby didn't doubt it for a moment. Paralyzed with pain, she tried not to breathe. She prayed for Sophie to release her. The girl was crazy. She bit back her tears.

"And when I say something's mine, you just shut your whiny little trap and mind your own frick'n business."

Thankfully, Libby saw Scott, their twenty-three-year-old "adult in charge," walk around the corner, surprised. He rushed over.

"Sophie, what are you doing? Let go of her."

"Just having a little chat here. Libby had a crick in her back and I'm trying to straighten her out." Her viselike grip tightened.

"Let her go. Right now!" His raised voice brought Michael and BJ from the kitchen.

"Shit, Sophie, what did she do to piss you off?" Michael chewed on a Pop-Tart as he spoke.

BJ looked on, a satisfied smirk on his big, dumb face. "Feeling better now?" Sophie asked, getting up in Libby's face.

"Yeah." She groaned through clenched teeth. "Great."

"Sophie, I said now!" Scott yelled .

Sophie stuck her elbow in Libby's back before releasing her. "Anytime you need a little adjustment, let me know."

Libby leaned against the wall for support, unable to bear the pain of straightening her arm. Slowly, she relaxed enough for the limb to fall useless at her side. With her other hand, she pushed away from the wall, her cheek aching and bruised, the wall marred with a streak of blood.

"Sophie, you're killing me here. I thought you weren't going to allow your temper to get out of control," Scott said, this situation far beyond his limited skill set.

"Yeah, well, it sneaks out once in a while. I'm sorry. It'll never happen again," she said, clearly not meaning a word.

"You're right about that." Scott shook his head.

"Damn, Sophie! You're goin' back to juvie. It's three strikes and you're out," Michael happily taunted.

"I'm afraid he's right." Scott wrung his hands. "I've got to call this in."

"Yeah, well, screw you!" Sophie spat at Scott. "You're such a pussy. You need to grow some."

"Sophie, go sit in the kitchen while I handle this. BJ, please stay with her while I talk to Libby."

Scott checked Libby for injuries and congratulated her for trying to get a peaceful resolution. Apparently, not fighting back or defending yourself qualified as good behavior. He told her to shower so she could clean off the to go in to school late. Yippee . She was sick and tired of being pushed around.

After her shower, she gave a report to the police about Sophie stealing her Jamieson CD. Narcing seemed like a lame reason to be pummeled against a wall, but the CD was the only thing she had left that tied her to Peter. She refused to put up with Sophie's constant bullying anymore. In fact, she was done taking everybody's crap. She'd spent nearly two years doing what everyone else told her to. She'd been the model orphan child. No more! She'd been lied to, misled, and manipulated. There was no one left who cared about her; they'd all left or been taken away. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn't help, either. It was time to stop cowering in submission as other people made bad decisions for her.

Today this madness stopped. Libby refused to sit in this crappy house and get bullied and beat up. She'd been afraid for too long. That ended now. Today she would take back her life. Sink or swim, she'd do it on her own. She knew she could.

The decision made, Libby moved through her room with purpose. She dumped the schoolbooks and papers out of her backpack and kicked them under the bed. She went to the dresser and surveyed the contents. She grabbed a pair of jeans, three warm tops, a couple pairs of socks and underwear, an extra bra. Then she pulled a thick sweatshirt over the one she already wore. She dropped her makeup bag into the backpack, then pulled it back out. It took up too much space. She opened the bag, grabbed blush and mascara, dropped them into the pack and left the rest on the dresser.

She cushioned the picture of her family by wrapping it inside a T-shirt and then placed it in the middle of the pack. She moved around the room, scanning each item for something she might need in her future life. Nothing.

Her eyes settled on her narrow bed. Without pause, she went to the far side and reached deep between the mattress and box spring. She pulled out a bank envelope full of money she stashed from her job. She counted one hundred and fifty-three dollars, not nearly enough. She stuffed the cash in her back pocket. She opened the closet and examined the contents, a few shirts, several pairs of shoes, and the dress from homecoming that Miss Orman refused to take back. She left it all. She needed nothing from this place.

She looked at Sophie's part of the room. Clothes littered the floor and the bed was unmade. She hesitated only a moment, then moved to the dresser and worked her way through it, drawer by drawer.

Bingo!

Inside the second drawer lay her Jamieson CD in its cracked case; she tucked it in her bag. In the next drawer, she found an empty cigarette container, inside of which she discovered a thick wad of bills and a couple of joints .

She dumped the filthy drugs into the drawer and scanned the bills, a couple hundred dollars. She thought twice about taking the loot, but figured Sophie probably stole it to begin with or earned it selling drugs. It made sense that dirty money would help her now.

Satisfied, she checked the hall. She heard Scott on the phone in the kitchen. Libby stepped quietly to the front door, slipped into her coat, and grabbed Scott's warm gloves off the table. She needed these more than he did.

She exited the front door, pulling it quietly shut. She stood on the front porch and took a long deep breath. Libby Sawyer was finished, dead to her. She walked away from the house and never looked back.