Crossroads by Irene Hannon Page A

it didn’t look as if she could have both. Which meant only one thing.
    She would have to add yet another regret to her already long list.

Chapter Five
    B y seven-thirty Tess was angry. By eight o’clock she was getting worried. When there was still no sign of Bruce by eight-thirty, she was beginning to panic.
    And by the time the phone rang at nine o’clock, she was frantic. Her voice was shaking as she struggled with a simple hello.
    â€œMs. Lockwood?” The male voice was unfamiliar.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThis is Sergeant Roberts of the Southfield Police Department. We have your son here at the station. He was a passenger in a car that was involved in an accident.”
    Tess’s stomach plummeted to her toes, and her lungs stopped working. “Is he all right?”
    â€œHe’s scared. But not hurt. Only the driver was injured. A laceration above his eye that needed stitches. I’ll be happy to give you the details when you come to get your son.”
    â€œI’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
    Tess replaced the receiver and sank onto a stool by the counter as her legs suddenly gave way. She forced herself to take a long, slow breath and then buried her face in her hands. She wanted to cry—with relief…frustration…anger…fear…and a depressing feeling of helplessness. She’d been afraid that Bruce was heading for a run-in with the law. But she’d hoped that she’d intervened in time to keep that from happening. At least this call wasn’t related to lawbreaking, she consoled herself. But the next time it very well could be—unless she quickly figured out a way to get her son to see the light and straighten up.
    As it turned out, the summons to the police station wasn’t quite as innocent as Tess had assumed. Sergeant Roberts was waiting when she arrived, and once she was seated across his desk he didn’t waste any time getting to the point.
    â€œMs. Lockwood, are you aware that your son was drinking this evening?” he asked bluntly.
    She stared at him, her eyes widening in shock. “What?”
    The sergeant grunted and pulled a sheet of paper toward him. “I guess that answers my question.” He consulted the document in front of him. “According to his statement, he and several friends went to Little Italy and got a take-out pizza, which they washed down with beer. Then they switched to gin and went cruising. Eventually they drove into a tree. The driver’s blood alcohol level was well above the legal limit. Frankly, they got lucky. They could have killed someone. Or been killed themselves.”
    During the officer’s recitation of the facts, Tess felt the color slowly drain from her face. When he finallylooked up, his stern expression eased slightly and his voice lost its clinical tone.
    â€œWould you like a drink of water?”
    Tess shook her head jerkily. “No. Thanks.” She took a deep breath and met the officer’s gaze directly. She didn’t want to ask the question, didn’t want to believe it was possible, but she had to have all the facts.
    â€œWas…was Bruce drunk, too?”
    The man shook his head. “We could smell the gin on his breath. He claims he only took one drink of beer and a sip of the gin. Frankly, I’m inclined to believe him. We did a Breathalyzer, and he was clean.”
    Tess swallowed with difficulty and closed her eyes. Though he’d made some very bad choices, he’d somehow found the strength to temper his response to peer pressure when it came to drinking. Thank You, Lord, for that, she prayed fervently. But the police officer was right. Things could have been so much worse.
    When she finally opened her eyes, the sergeant’s gaze was more sympathetic. “Has he been in trouble before, Ms. Lockwood? Some of the other kids are familiar to us, but I don’t recall seeing Bruce before.”
    â€œWe’ve only been here