Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  “Pushed? I didn’t say push. I said back off.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just sent an email…”

  He shot her a look.

  “Log in.”

  “Well, it kind of came from… you.” Replacement’s eyes grew large.

  “You sent it from my account?”

  “I thought it would look more intimidating if it came from you.” She got up and let him sit at the computer.

  “I don’t want to be intimidating.” Jack logged in to his email and checked the sent messages.

  Dear Ms. Lorton,

  Please be officially notified that we are continuing to look into the murder of Michelle Carter. It is our hope that you will contact me regarding all information that you have concerning this case.

  Sincerely,

  Officer Jack Stratton

  She’d included his cell phone number!

  “Have you officially lost your mind? My cell phone number?”

  “This might shake her up. She might—”

  “Yeah, she might go to the police now. About me.”

  He pulled the plug out of the back of the computer. That was the most dramatic way he could think of to demonstrate how serious he was this time.

  “Stay off it.”

  He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  27

  Dirty Dancing

  Later that night, Jack was pulling traffic duty. Penance. The smell of hot tar filled the air. There always seemed to be tar ready for pouring; the stench clung to everything for days.

  They’d been working on this highway since before Jack started on the force, leisurely making their way from exit to exit.

  Barely two exits in the last six months. What a waste.

  It was just warm enough not to freeze the light mist into snow. The highway stretched out on both sides, the droplets dancing under the enormous arc lights, little rainbows glittering on the pavement, Jack in the middle, sodden and miserable.

  Officer Tom Kempy waved and smiled at Jack. He was a little older than Jack, married with three kids, one of those guys who always seems happy, just in love with life.

  “Hey, Jack.” Tom trotted up to him. “Billy said they’re making good progress and should be done by four.”

  Four in the morning. That’s good progress? Jack frowned.

  “It’ll go by fast.” Tom slapped Jack on the arm and jogged toward his car.

  “Say hi to Amy and the kids,” Jack called after him.

  Tom turned back around. “If you ever want to come over for dinner…” He trailed off.

  “I’d love to. And don’t worry, I won’t bring a date.”

  Tom exhaled and smiled. “Okay. Great.” He waved and ran for his car.

  Jack laughed. He’d brought Gina to the last Christmas party. He didn’t know it was a rather conservative event for the police and all their families. Tom had been there with Amy and all their kids. The next thing Jack knew, Gina had bribed the DJ into playing some “spicy” music—and then started to dance. The dance floor cleared as her drunken salsa began to look more and more like a striptease. When her hand slipped to the shoulder strap of her dress, he rushed in, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her out.

  The look on Amy’s face as he walked by, Gina vividly describing all the erotic things she wanted to do to him…

  Yeah. Definitely no date.

  Five hours later, Jack felt like time had simply stopped. But the closer he came to getting home, which he assumed would happen eventually, under the normal laws of physics, the more he dreaded having to deal with Replacement.

  He’d noticed that she was trying to get her schedule to match his. She’d wake up when he did and try to stay up until he returned. It drove him crazy, but he had to admit he also liked it.

  On the other hand, while he was out today, she’d spent all her time reviewing the information from the phone and Michelle’s emails, studying each line and each word, in case there was even a little piece of information that could hold some relevance. That girl didn’t give up.

  Maybe he could email Replacement and get her to look up that Lennie J kid.

  But he was still ticked off about the email to Missy.

  That girl will go to a lawyer. The lawyer will call Collins, Collins will go mental, and I’m screwed. I have a police delegate, but that won’t matter. Collins will give me this job every shift. Or he’ll assign me to paper filing and answering the phone for the rest of my career. Thanks, Replacement.

  He waved a car down the lane of cones.

  And what am I going to do about Replacement? She won’t take the bed, and I sure don’t want to sleep on the couch. I can’t kick her out. I’ll have to get a two-bedroom.

  Suddenly Jack laughed. Not a little laugh; a big, howling sidesplitter.

  A couple of guys stopped schmoozing with the Bobcat operator and looked at him. He held up his hands in a forget-about-it gesture.

  He’d been thinking about Missy Lorton rolling into her kitchen, squealing. She must have died when she got that email—

  He had only a second to react after he heard the car speed up behind him. He turned and headlights were bearing down on him. The engine and his adrenaline revved into fifth gear while everything else slowed way down.

  He tried to jump. Too late.

  Protect your head.

  The bumper slammed into his thigh, and he crashed into the windshield. His back ignited in pain; a million fires burned.

  For a split second, still spinning, he could see the stars, and then the arc lights, and then their reflections, twinkling and spinning. He heard swearing from the guys at the Bobcat.

  Then his feet were going over his head. He was clear of the car, but he was still spinning.

  Not back into the road.

  Protect your head.

  His feet landed first on the pavement, then his back, and then his head. He saw the car that had hit him swerve and keep going. His left hand had cushioned some of the impact, but his right arm flopped, useless.

  Pain. Pain everywhere. He burned like a match held upside down.

  Roll, he commanded, but his body wouldn’t respond.

  Jack tried to focus on the men running toward him. He could see them, but his ears didn’t seem to be working. Everything dimmed. Then went black.

  28

  Iron Man

  The first sound as Jack came around was a slow, steady beep. It matched the thudding pulse that echoed in his head. Hospital.

  Not dead yet, Jack.

  He tried to open his eyes, but only one worked, and it wasn’t working too well. He tried to blink, but everything was fuzzy. He let his head roll to the side. He tried not to breathe through his nose but then, through the stomach-churning hospital smells, there was a faint scent of flowers.

  Flowers? Maybe I am dead. Body check.

  He flexed his left leg, but he couldn’t move the right.

  Immobile from the knee down.

  Hips. Check.

  Back. Pain, but not agonizing. Lots of pain on the right side, maybe a broken rib or two.

  Left arm and hand felt okay. He held up his right arm in front of the eye that was sort of working.

  Splint.

  “Jack?” A blurry shape called to him from beyond the flowers, then swooped in and came almost nose to nose with him.

  “Replacement?” Jack’s mouth was so dry it sounded more like placemat.

  She reached her hand out to touch his head but hesitated; her hand hovered.

  “Doctor!” she shouted right in his face.

  His eye fluttered.

  “Sorry. Doctor!” she called again. He was grateful she turned her head before she yelled this time, but his ears still rang. When she turned back to him, he could read the concern on her face.

  Jack shut his eye. “You okay?”

  “Me?” Replacement drew back and frowned. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine, too. You’re good… Doctor! ”


  Darkness returned.

  The next time Jack woke and tried to open his eyes, his left eyelid was like a broken garage door that went up a bit and stopped. He picked up his right hand, forgetting it was in a splint, and crashed it into his good eye.

  Swearing at his own stupidity, he jerked partly upright, but came to a sudden stop as new pain flooded the broken pieces of his body.

  Replacement was suddenly at his side, and placed her hands behind his back to help him. But the last thing he wanted to do now was sit up.

  “Stop, stop! You’re killing me.”

  She pulled her hands away as if she’d grabbed a hot stove, and Jack thumped back onto the bed with a loud groan.

  She looked like she was preparing to roar for the doctor again, but Jack interrupted. “No, I’m fine. Give me a minute.” Even the little shake of his head hurt.

  “Are you sure?” She leaned in and searched his face.

  She was so close, all he had to do was pucker his lips and the kiss landed right on her lips. She stood up, and her eyes were huge.

  Jack giggled. The pain medicine made him a little loopy.

  “Jack?” She leaned closer.

  “Miss me?” His speech was slurred. He laughed again, and the room spun.

  “Jack, you’re in the hospital.” She spoke softly and slowly. “Do you remember what happened?”

  He nodded. “I got hit by a green Toyota Corolla.”

  “What’s my name?”

  I’m screwed. I forgot again. He laughed some more.

  Her face grew concerned. “Jack, what’s my name?”

  “Replacement.”

  “What’s my real name?” she pressed.

  “I think I hit my head…”

  “You can remember it was a green Toyota Corolla that hit you but you can’t—”

  “Alice.” Jack felt like he’d hit the game-winning shot at the buzzer. He giggled, and then suddenly had to take another nap.

  When his eyes half-opened a few hours later, Replacement hugged him so tightly that she choked off his groans of pain. All he could do was grimace and wait for her to relax her grip.

  She stood up and wiped away tears. “Everyone was so worried.”

  Jack struggled not to groan. He was flat on his back, and he wanted to try to sit again. Slowly, carefully, he edged some words past his aching ribs and through his parched throat.

  “Does this bed sit up without you having to lift me?”

  Replacement grabbed the remote, and the bed raised him to a sitting position. The first thing he noticed when he looked around the room was all the flower arrangements.

  “How long have I been out?” His mouth felt dry and slimy at the same time.

  Replacement held up a cup with a straw, and he took a small sip of water. It felt so good against the back of his throat.

  “You were out for a while. A couple of days. The doctors were worried about your head. Then they came back and said it looked okay.”

  “I’ve been out…” He tried to sit up further but realized that was a lousy idea as the room spun even more. “It was a green—”

  “They found the car. It was stolen.” Replacement stroked his arm. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Nothing off the car? Prints?” Jack closed one eye, and it helped bring her into focus.

  “Nothing. Sheriff Collins came by. He said they had nothing on it yet.” Replacement shrugged. Jack noticed how tired she looked. “Cindy came by, too. She said they’d wiped it clean.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  She shrugged again, but the dark circles under her eyes provided the answer.

  “You need to go get some rest.”

  She shook her head but remained silent.

  He took another swig of water and tried to wiggle his toes. His right leg had been immobilized from the knee down.

  “Did I break my leg?”

  “Surprisingly not. The doctors thought you had at first because it was so black and blue, but all the x-rays came back negative. They call you Iron Man. You did injure your right wrist, though, and your face got pretty busted up.”

  Jack didn’t have to touch the left side of his face to feel the swelling. It hurt even before he smiled about Iron Man, and his left eye still wouldn’t open all the way.

  “Officer Stratton?”

  Jack looked up as a doctor and nurse walked into the room, smiling, which he took as a good sign.

  “I’d like to examine you, if I may?”

  Jack nodded.

  Sure, give me the all-clear, and then I can go track down the guy who did this to me.

  After two more days, Jack was thoroughly sick of everything about the hospital, especially the long, rectangular light fixture above his head that created a strange yellowish glow and was never turned off, day or night. He hated sitting still, hated lying down, and most of all, hated the feeling of being trapped.

  “How long do they want me to stay here?”

  “Maybe until this afternoon.” Cindy patted his leg and sat down in the lime-green chair.

  “I have to—”

  “What’re you going to do, Jack? The doctor doesn’t want you walking on that leg, and your right hand needs time to heal.” She held up her hand. “Collins said you were to take some time off, too.”

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  Cindy folded her arms and leveled her gaze at him. “The sheriff is right. You can’t stand on your leg yet, and you can’t shoot. You need time to get well.”

  Jack picked at the flowers next to his bed. “These came without cards,” he said with a sweep of his good hand toward the many displays nurses had delivered to the room.

  “Well, they all had cards… once…” Cindy chuckled.

  “Once?” Jack didn’t understand.

  “Alice read a couple of them…”

  “She got rid of the cards?”

  “When it comes to women, you really don’t know jack, Jack.”

  “Ha, ha.” He still didn’t understand but that was the least of his worries right now.

  “Why do I have to stay here so long?”

  “One reason is to give Alice a break. Do you have any idea how long she stayed at your side? She wouldn’t go home until I promised I’d stay with you today.”

  “You’re not staying.”

  “I promised. That one can be scary.”

  “Go home, Cindy.”

  “I thought you’d want the company.”

  “I actually would prefer to sleep. Really.”

  “You’re okay with that?” She leaned in. “My mother came for a visit, and I left her at home with my husband… They get along like gasoline and a match.”

  “Sounds like you’re needed elsewhere. Go. Really, I’ll be fine.”

  Cindy picked up her purse. “Don’t you dare tell Alice I left.” Cindy gave Jack’s foot a little squeeze and headed out the door.

  Jack leaned back and looked up at the jaundiced ceiling again.

  Nothing is broken in my leg. Doc said I’ll be on it in a week or two.

  He arched his back and tried to flex his muscles. He still hurt. A lot.

  A young nurse came in carrying another vase filled with flowers and set it down next to the bed.

  “Someone must want you to get better,” the girl gushed. She handed him a very large card.

  At least I can find out who sent these.

  He didn’t recognize the handwriting from his name printed on the envelope. He opened the card and then closed it quickly. He could feel his face turn hot and red. The nurse took the hint and scuttled out.

  No words, just a picture.

  He slowly opened the card again to the exquisitely rendered pencil sketch. The problem wasn’t with the quality of the drawing but with the subject—Jack, lying on a tattoo table, a sheet partially covering him—just not covering the right parts.

  Marisa. Well, that explains why Replacement got rid of the others.

  29

 
; Drunken Grasshopper

  Replacement propped another pillow behind Jack’s back and stepped away, appraising her work triumphantly. Jack surveyed her accomplishment. She had transformed his bedroom into a hospital room, only much nicer, with a food tray and TV, pillows everywhere—ditto flowers without cards. Snacks, books, ice pack, heat pack, and an electric teakettle were all within easy reach; his right leg was blissfully propped up on cushions.

  “Thanks. I don’t know how you pulled this off. I have to figure out how you got this stuff or have you arrested.”

  She turned her hands up. “Donations. Cindy hooked me up at the Salvation Army. They wouldn’t take a dime.”

  Comfortable as he was in his pillows, Jack wasn’t comfortable with not being head of the household, even for a minute. “Take some money. Where’d you put my wallet? We need groceries and stuff.”

  “We have tons of food. Cindy brought it over.” Chattering like a little house sparrow, she sat down on the bed. “She’s great. I like her a lot.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Jack said absently. “Listen, I tried calling Sheriff Collins, but he won’t return my phone calls.”

  “Jack, I don’t think that you… right now…”

  He knew what she was going to say, and he just didn’t have it in him to fight her. A few more hours’ rest wouldn’t kill him. “You do realize you didn’t actually say anything just now? Not a full sentence anyway.” He tried to smile.

  “Just for now you need to stop. For right now, just get better.” She squeezed his hand. “Please.”

  “Okay.” He pulled the blanket up a little further. “I’ll be good.”

  “Wait until you see this.” She raced out of the room and came back with her arms full of DVDs. She stacked them on the table and gestured like Vanna White. “Pick a movie.”

  He grinned. “Rocky.”

  “A boxing movie?” She made a face.

  “You’ve never seen it? You’ll like it.”