Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  Replacement grasped her chest. “Terminated.” She flung her arms wide and collapsed on the bed with death moans.

  Watching her antics, Jack suddenly felt the wall of fatigue slam down. “Well, we should probably get to bed. I want to get an early start.”

  “I’m on the right!” Replacement crowed. She snuggled under the comforter, then peered out at Jack. He had put a pillow on one end of the loveseat, with a blanket neatly folded on top of it.

  “You’re not going to sleep on that, are you?”

  “I know you didn’t know better, but you should have gotten a place with two beds,” Jack said.

  “Why? This one is enormous. Two beds wouldn’t even fit in this room.”

  “I’m fine. I slept on worse in the Army.”

  “But you don’t have to. I don’t mind. I’ll put pillows between us.”

  “We’re not sharing the bed. Go to sleep.”

  “Whatever you say.” This was usually the signal that she was giving in, and sure enough, she turned her back and lay quiet under the covers.

  Jack took his turn in the bathroom, then came back and tried to get comfortable on the tiny loveseat, with his legs hanging off one end. He might as well have tried to sleep on a balance beam. He tried several different positions, each more painful than the last. Meanwhile, Replacement was already snoring soundly.

  He didn’t even consider climbing into the king-size bed with Replacement. There was a principle involved. And seeing as how they were going to be roommates, he didn’t want to start their nonphysical cohabitation off on the wrong foot.

  Finally, he wrapped himself in the blanket and lay down on the floor. At least this way he could stretch out, and the carpeted floor was not much harder than that awful loveseat.

  As the hours ticked by, he realized it wasn’t the sleeping arrangement that was keeping him awake; he had dealt with far worse. No, it was the thought of what he’d face tomorrow that gnawed at his thoughts.

  The nightmares had been bad enough before. What the hell will I dream of tonight?

  He tried to let everything go. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. The rise and fall of his chest slowed as he imagined himself sinking into the floor. His muscles relaxed.

  If someone were standing outside the door of Room 102 just a couple of hours before dawn, they would have heard two people snoring peacefully.

  7

  Patty

  Jack opened his eyes. He was sitting on a couch in a motel room—the kind of motel he and his mother had “lived in” when he was little. He was confused until he looked down at his hands and saw the Curious George doll clutched in them. He hadn’t seen that doll since he was five. Then, with a different part of his brain, he understood that he was dreaming.

  A little girl sat on the couch next to him. Somehow, he knew she was waiting for his answer, but he didn’t know the question. He didn’t know the girl, either. She was small and had big blue eyes. Her blond hair was very dirty, but she had a bright pink ribbon in it.

  “I’m five.” She held her hand out, but she didn’t smile. She just waited and stared at him.

  Jack closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the motel room was gone. Now he was back in the institution, in the room where he saw Patty. The little girl was sitting across the table from him.

  “Are you looking?” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” She tilted her head and swung her legs.

  “Don’t get what?” Jack put his hand down on the table and was shocked that it was ice-cold.

  When he looked up, the little girl was holding her arms against her chest. Her lower lip trembled.

  “Kid . . . don’t cry.” Jack forced a smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Patty.” She held up her hand, and it shook. “Stop looking.”

  “I need to find out what happened.”

  Her little shoulders rounded and her chin trembled. “Then you’re going to die.”

  Jack’s eyes flew open. He rolled over on the floor and found himself staring at the legs of the loveseat. With relief, he knew he was back at the inn, and he fought to control his breathing.

  From the amount of light coming in the window, he thought it must be around seven. He closed his eyes again, hoping he might get some more sleep. He felt like he’d gotten an hour, tops.

  He heard Replacement roll over. Then she threw back the covers, sprang out of bed, and stepped on his stomach. She screamed and hopped back into bed.

  “It’s just me,” he grumbled.

  She stuck her head over the side of the bed. “Did you sleep on the floor?”

  “No.”

  She tilted her head to the other side. “Then why are you on the floor with blankets?”

  Jack groaned and got up.

  “Yes, I was on the floor. I mean I didn’t sleep.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I slept like a baby,” Replacement said. “This bed is super-soft.”

  “Let’s go down to breakfast and then head to the library.”

  “What’s at the library?”

  “Books.” Jack smirked.

  “I know that.” Replacement bounded out of the bed and raced to the closet. She yanked open the door, reached into the closet, and pulled out the brown dress with the white trim. “Can I wear this?” She clutched it to her body and twirled back and forth.

  “We’re only going to the library . . .” Jack began, but when Replacement’s smile collapsed into a frown, he quickly scrambled for words. “I thought maybe you’d want to save that for dinner.”

  Replacement’s smile exploded back onto her face. “Good idea.” She carefully hung the dress up and danced over to the bureau.

  Boom. Nice save.

  Jack went into the bathroom and took a quick shower. When he came back out, he was surprised to find that Replacement wasn’t yet dressed. She had pulled out all her outfits, and was picking up one after the other and then setting them back down.

  There’re only five outfits to pick from, Jack wanted to scream, but instead he lay down on the bed to wait.

  He relaxed and let his arms roll out at his sides. He inhaled deeply. The bed was incredibly soft and the comforter’s smell was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It smelled like spring. It wasn’t an artificial scent like detergent or soap; it actually smelled like a warm spring day. He breathed in deeply and shut his eyes.

  “Do you want to keep sleeping?”

  Jack’s eyes fluttered open. “I think I fell asleep.” He shook his head and sat up.

  “Only for a second. You can sleep more if you want.” But Replacement looked ready to go, dressed in a blouse and jeans.

  “No, no.” Jack forced himself up. “I want to get to the library. But I’ll warn you now, I’m going to be a bear. Let’s go.”

  Replacement raced down the stairs, but Jack took his time. Sleep deprivation had made his mood grim. He could almost feel the darkness inside him gathering strength, straining to get out. A familiar darkness, familiar themes—abandonment, fear, mistrust, betrayal. He didn’t deal with those things well, according to his therapists and ex-girlfriends. All the hurt, pain, and anger were like something clawing at him, shredding his memories and ripping him to pieces. And despite his best efforts, he couldn’t kill the beast, and he couldn’t make it go away, so he dealt with it the only way he knew how: he kept it caged, buried under layers of toughness and barricaded behind walls to keep out the memories and nightmares.

  But lately it had been trying to gnaw its way out, and he could almost hear it snarling and scratching inside his head.

  Jack stopped at the top of the stairs and gripped the railing. Why the hell am I here? I never should have come looking for her. She’s crazy. Is that why I’m so screwed up? Can you inherit crazy? Maybe my father was insane too. Who’d have slept with a girl like that?

  “Mr. Stratton?” The innkeeper softly touched his arm, and his eyes flashed open.

  “
I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he tried to get control of himself.

  The expression on her face changed from slightly concerned to fearful as she looked at him. She took a step back.

  Jack tried to smile. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” He hurried down the stairs and took a right at the front desk. Trying to compose himself, he headed toward the dining area, a large room with four small, round tables. Replacement was nowhere to be seen. The only people here were a young couple sitting at a table in the far corner. They sat so close, they were practically in each other’s laps, and the girl kept her hand on the boy’s thigh as they talked.

  Jack saw an open doorway at one side of the room and assumed that was where the food was—an assumption that was confirmed when Replacement, grinning like she’d caught a prizewinning fish, walked out of the doorway holding a plate piled high with food. She spotted Jack, and they both sat down at the table nearest her.

  “You won’t believe how much food they have in there,” she gushed.

  “Is there any left?” he teased.

  “Tons. Now pray. I can’t wait to try this.”

  Jack bowed his head, but took a moment before he spoke. “God . . . I . . . help me figure this out.”

  “That prayer stinks,” Replacement mumbled as she took a gigantic bite of scrambled eggs.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to rate prayers.”

  “Why can’t you rate a prayer? Besides, you want God to help you? Is God your assistant?” She shoveled in another large forkful, pancakes this time.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I was asking for help.”

  “You should say something like, ‘God, show me the way.’ You’re just a tool that He’ll use.” From the way she raised her eyebrow, Jack knew she was quoting Aunt Haddie. “And you didn’t say ‘in Jesus’s name.’ I always end my prayers like that. ‘Ask anything in my name.’ That’s what Aunt Haddie said Jesus told the disciples. Here, try this.”

  Before Jack could protest, she had popped a chunk of buttered brown bread in his mouth and was watching for his reaction. The bread was delicious, and the butter had just a hint of honey and cinnamon. His mouth watered, and Replacement nodded knowingly.

  “It rocks, huh?” She smiled from ear to ear. “Aren’t you going to get a plate?”

  Jack laughed. “I thought you got enough for both of us.”

  Replacement pulled her plate closer. “Get your own, mister. I want to try everything.”

  Jack laughed and went up to survey the impressive spread. Suddenly everything smelled delicious, and he ended up with quite a full plate himself—although not as full as Replacement’s.

  When he sat back down, Ms. Jenkins appeared at his side.

  “Is everything to your liking?” she asked. Again, the look she gave Jack was impossible to decipher. She opened her mouth as if she was about to ask something more, but instead closed her lips in a tight smile.

  “The breakfast is so good,” Replacement said.

  “Thank you. We try our best to adhere to tradition, and all our recipes and ingredients are historically accurate.” Jack caught a slight scent of spring from her graceful, floral dress whenever she moved.

  Jack shifted in his seat. “The pancakes are the best I’ve ever had.”

  “They’re made with low-hanging blueberries. They just came into season. And they tap the maple syrup on the farm down the road.” She paused a moment, studying Jack’s face. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  “I did. That bed is so soft I could sleep all day. Jack slept on—” Replacement winced as Jack stepped on her foot.

  “Everything was fine, thank you.” Jack forced a smile.

  “If you need any information regarding the town or areas of interest, I’d be happy to be of service.” She raised one eyebrow, and Jack wondered how to answer.

  She seemed pleasant enough, but Jack couldn’t get a read on what the woman was thinking. “Thank you. We did want to stop by the library. Could you give us directions?”

  “Certainly. I’ll write the directions down. Please enjoy your breakfast.” She turned and walked back toward the front desk.

  Jack watched her. He hadn’t realized how tall she was—only an inch or so shorter than him. She looked back over her shoulder with a smile as she exited the room.

  She must have been a dancer. He would almost swear to it; the way she carried herself. Maybe she left a dancer’s career to run this inn.

  Jack looked over at Replacement and smiled. She had some crêpe filling on her cheek. He wanted to wipe it off, but she looked so happy that he left it.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked. “And promise not to laugh.”

  Jack nodded, but he had no faith in his vow, considering how funny she looked.

  “Can I take this with us?” She held up her plate.

  Jack laughed.

  8

  She Said “IT”

  They had no trouble finding the library, a square, two-story brick building with a garden in front, where the first crocuses were poking up. Four cars were in the lot, and Jack was grateful that lights were on already inside the building.

  Jack leaned over to Replacement. “If they ask, we’re here to do some historical research. It’s a hobby.”

  “Got it.” She smiled and hopped out.

  Jack hurried to catch up to her. “Just let me do the talking, okay?”

  As they entered the building, the stillness of the library enveloped them like an unseen mist. Old maple pillars reached up twenty feet to an arched ceiling. It looked as if someone had taken a sailing ship of old and turned it over. The main room was perfectly quiet, yet somehow felt alive. Jack breathed in deeply.

  “It smells like the woods,” he whispered to Replacement, but he felt as though by speaking he was disturbing some unseen force.

  They headed over to a short, chubby woman working behind a counter. She looked like a cross between a businesswoman and a waitress at a truck stop. She was probably in her late forties, but it was hard to tell with all the makeup. She wore her light-brown hair high and with bangs in a 1980s’ style, frizzled and heavily processed. Her blue cotton blouse was a little too low-cut, especially for a librarian. She was merrily stamping books and didn’t notice Jack and Replacement until they walked right up to the long wooden counter.

  “Oh!” She gave a little hop as she looked up at Jack. Then she gave her head a slight shake and exhaled. “Why, you gave me a start.” She smiled with her lips but not with her eyes. “Welcome to the Hope Falls Public Library. My name is Mae Tanner. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning, Mae. My name is Jack.”

  She shook his outstretched hand.

  “I was wondering if you could help me,” he said.

  “I’d love to.” She dashed around the counter, straightening her skirt. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  “Do you have newspapers on microfiche?”

  “Why yes. Yes, we do. Right this way.”

  She hurried around a corner, and Jack had to rush to keep up, almost dragging Replacement with him.

  “Can’t we try to look it up on the computer?” Replacement whined.

  “Look what up, honey?” The librarian stopped so suddenly, Jack almost crashed into her.

  “We’re looking for some newspaper articles,” Jack said. “Just the local newspaper for now. I’m sure it isn’t online.” He emphasized the last sentence, and cast a quick ‘be quiet’ glare at Replacement.

  “The local paper is online,” Mae proudly proclaimed. “They started to publish online last year.”

  “That’s great,” Jack began, “but I wanted to look at some papers going back around twenty-eight years. We’re here to do some historical research.”

  “Right, then, you definitely need the microfiche archives.”

  Mae led them down a corridor to a small side room with old metal cabinets lining every wall. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table with a bulky machine sitting o
n it.

  “We have every copy of the Hope Falls Times since they started publishing in nineteen twenty-three. We also have the regional paper, the Enterprise.” She looked up at Jack and blinked rapidly. “As you can see, we’ve also . . . we’ve also—” Mae stammered and looked down at her hands. “We also have—” She stopped again and cleared her throat.

  “Mae.” Jack placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “This is perfect.” He smiled, and she started to breathe again. “This is exactly what I need.”

  “Really?” She smiled. “Wonderful. Please let me know if you need anything else.” She scurried out of the room.

  “What was that all about?” Replacement asked.

  “Shh . . .” Jack peered out the door and watched Mae hurry back to her desk. “Maybe she’s just nervous. Besides, this is what we came for.”

  “This? What’re we going to find here?”

  “First, we’ll find out if my mother is just crazy, or if any of what she said really happened.” He opened a cabinet under a sign that read: Hope Falls Press. The records were arranged by date; Jack thumbed through until he had the folder he wanted. When he turned back to the table, Replacement had already turned on the machine and was waiting for him.

  “I’m twenty-six. She’d have been pregnant twenty-seven years ago. We’ll start there and go forward,” Jack began. “Here’s how it works—”

  Replacement held up her smartphone. “Googled it. There’s a translucent screen at the front which projects an image from a microform. Three hundred pages per form, so I’m guessing one month per film.” She did a sassy wiggle and laughed when she finished.

  “Show-off.” Jack placed the folder down next to the machine.

  “How did you figure out where to search from?”

  “When Patty was freaking out in the hospital, she said the stabbing happened after she found out about ‘it.’” His eyes burned, but his voice was cold.