“I should’ve left right after the photos,” he muttered, jogging up the granite steps to the massive oak front door. Jack looked at the oversize black knocker mounted dead center, like something out of the Middle Ages. He exhaled and tried to gather himself. Just as he reached out for the huge piece of metal, assuming he should give it a few thunks to announce his presence, he spotted a doorbell discreetly mounted beside the door. Before he could press it, the front door was whipped open.
Kelly Dawson, in designer jeans and a pink top with matching lipstick. For a moment he could only stand there, blinking. The hallway chandelier behind her sparkled like flashbulbs.
When he was able to breathe, he mumbled, “Wow. You’re gorgeous.”
She chuckled. “I had help. My mom and I had a girls’ day out to get me ready.”
“Seriously, you belong on a runway, not in a doorway.” Kelly beamed, and he saw an opportunity to test the waters.
“A whole day shopping? A date with me is that special?”
Kelly blushed. Good sign. She likes you, buddy boy.
He glanced over her shoulder. No parents. Bonus. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”
But before they could make their escape, a woman appeared in the hallway, rich, manicured, and regal, even in a casual lounge outfit. The resemblance left Jack with no doubt that she was Kelly’s mother. The tall, slender blonde placed a hand on Kelly’s shoulder while extending the other out to Jack. “Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Nancy Dawson.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Mrs. Dawson? Ms.? Nancy? His parents had taught him to be polite, but he didn’t want to sound hopelessly old-fashioned. Or overly friendly.
“Kelly?” a male voice called from inside.
Kelly rolled her eyes. “I’m just leaving, Dad.”
“Wait there a second.”
Kelly bit her bottom lip.
There was a heavy sound of heels across what sounded like a vast tile floor, and then Mr. Dawson strutted around the corner and up to the doorway, his phone in his hand. Even with Jack one step beneath him, Jack was still taller—a fact that seemed to bother Mr. Dawson, judging by the way he held his chin up, shot out his arm, and squeezed Jack’s hand—hard.
Jack didn’t flinch. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Jack Stratton.”
Mr. Dawson nodded, just barely. “Phil Dawson.” He eyed Jack up and down. “Where are you two headed?”
“Bowling. It’s a double date.”
“That sounds fun. With whom?” Kelly’s mother asked.
“My best friend, Chandler, and his girlfriend, Makayla.”
Mr. Dawson’s expression soured slightly, and Mrs. Dawson’s smile flickered. “Are they friends from your school?” Mrs. Dawson asked.
“Yes,” said Jack warily.
“What school is that?” asked Mr. Dawson.
Kelly jumped. “Oh, look at the time.” She tsked. “I don’t want to miss our reservation.” She quickly kissed her father on the cheek.
Mr. Dawson opened his mouth to say something more, but Kelly grabbed Jack by the hand and hurried down the steps.
“Don’t be too late!” Her mom’s voice was noticeably strained.
“I won’t.” Kelly threw her parents an over-the-shoulder wave.
Kelly’s parents stood on the top step, watching them, as Jack opened the passenger door for her, then hurried to the driver’s seat. Mr. Dawson didn’t look pleased.
Jack struggled to get the keys out of his pocket. When Kelly’s father started to walk down the steps, she whispered, “Um, we’d better go…”
Jack finally ripped the keys free of his pocket and slammed them into the ignition. The Impala’s engine roared to life. In his haste, he jammed the gas pedal down to the floor, a big mistake. The Impala’s gas pedal was so sensitive that the difference between starting at ten miles per hour and a hundred and ten miles per hour was about a quarter of an inch. The car shot forward, whipping Kelly back against her seat. Then Jack quickly tapped the brakes, and she jerked forward like a cowboy riding a mad bull.
Mortified, Jack muttered, “Sorry,” managed to find a normal speed, then, once clear of the driveway, he sped back up. “I take it your family doesn’t bowl much?”
“Never. How’d you know?”
“You don’t need reservations.” Jack chuckled.
Kelly wrinkled her nose. “You don’t?”
Jack wanted to ask whether she’d ever been in a bowling alley, but he bit his tongue.
“I apologize about my father. He wasn’t happy when I told him you didn’t go to Westmore Academy.”
Jack’s smile faded. “I take it he’s not a fan of public schools?”
“That would be an understatement.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to tell him I went to Fairfield High?”
She sat up straight. “I’m not my father.” Seventeen years of frustration were crammed into that one sentence.
“That’s good.” Jack gave her a little wink. “It’d be kinda weird to take him bowling.”
His joke broke through the awkwardness, and she leaned back comfortably in the vintage bench seat—so much better when on a date than bucket seats.
“Are we meeting your friends at the bowling alley?”
“No.” Jack looked at her as much as he could while driving. “We’re picking them up at my Aunt Haddie’s.”
Kelly pulled down the visor and frowned when she saw it had no mirror. Jack made a mental note to buy one of those clip-on mirrors when he got a chance.
After fanning out her hair and straightening her blouse, she turned back to Jack. “Do I look okay?” She searched his face.
Jack casually stretched his arm across the seat back and shook his head with mock regret. “Well, all I know is, this car’s gonna need some serious fireproofing.” She looked adorably confused. “It could burst into flames at any moment, you’re so hot.”
“That line is so over-the-top.” She lifted her chin in a wide arc, but Jack could tell she liked it. She sat back, and her body relaxed. The more they talked, the more her stiffness eased.
As they crossed through town, the McMansions with landscaped grounds gave way to modest suburban plots, and then to duplexes and tenements. The yards grew smaller and smaller until most had nothing but a sliver of grass.
Kelly shifted uncomfortably. “Your aunt lives here?”
“Aunt Haddie? She’s more than my aunt. She was my foster mother for four years. Now she’s my second mom, for life.”
Jack pulled down a little road and parked in front of a big two-story house. Aunt Haddie tried her best to keep the place up, but that cost money she didn’t have. Jack had to smile, seeing the mismatched windows and the door he and Chandler had picked up on the side of the road. The house always made him smile. It was scruffy and patched together, but it was home.
He hopped out of the car and went to get Kelly’s door, but she was already getting out.
“Sorry,” she said. “You don’t have to get my door.”
“I know. But I want to. My dad drilled it into me.” He closed her door and offered her his arm.
“I have a feminist English teacher who’d flip out if you held a door open for her.”
Jack shrugged. “She doesn’t have to walk through it.”
“She’d consider it chauvinistic,” Kelly continued.
“If it really bothered her, she could close it and open it herself. Look, I know you know how to open a door.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Jack stopped. “I asked my dad that when he ran out in the rain to get the door for my mom. He said he did it for three reasons. One, it lets the other person know my focus is not on me; it’s on you. Two, it says what we’re doing, we’re doing together. Three, it shows any other guys watching that you’re with me and I think you’re special.” He shrugged. “Call it whatever, but that’s why I do it.”
“Your dad sounds nice.”
&nbs
p; “Best dad in the world, but don’t tell him I said that.”
They headed toward the back, where a wooden staircase led up to a small porch. Through the brightly lit windows, he could see Aunt Haddie’s tidy kitchen.
Jack opened the door and started to go through first, but Kelly stopped on the landing.
Jack paused. “Don’t you want to come in?”
“Oh, yeah, of course, but…now you’re not getting the door for me. After your speech, I kinda hoped you would.”
Jack stood with one foot inside and one outside. “I’ll always get the door for you. Like I said, it’s your choice if you want to go through. But I thought you’d be more comfortable if I went first into a stranger’s house.”
He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and led her inside to the kitchen, where a tall teenage girl was already coming their way.
“Jack!” The girl stopped short when she saw Kelly. Jack gave her a quick hug and stepped aside to introduce Kelly.
Michelle, Jack’s foster sister, was dark-skinned, with a bright, pretty face and a lean runner’s body. Her large brown eyes seemed even bigger because of her glasses. She brushed back her curly black hair and stood up straight.
“Hi, Jack. Chandler and Makayla are in his room.” She spoke politely, as if she’d been to finishing school, though her impish eyebrow waggle gave an unmistakable glimpse into the mind of a fifteen-year-old girl. In a way, she had been to a finishing school. Aunt Haddie was a stickler about manners and eye contact and first impressions, and all the children who came under her care had a similar quiet confidence and poise.
Jack pulled Michelle to his side. “Kelly, this is my sister, Michelle. Half-Pint, Kelly.”
Michelle wiggled an arm free. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled at Kelly as she elbowed Jack in the stomach. “Hey, I’m almost as big as you.”
“You’ll never be as big as me.” His standard response, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Michelle was already very tall, and showing promise in track and field. Maybe she’d outrun him someday too, as she’d been threatening to do since she was a little girl.
Kelly smiled. “Hi, Michelle. Nice to meet you, too.” She was just about to ask Michelle another question, to keep the conversation going, when Chandler and Makayla walked into the kitchen.
“Why don’t you ever use the front door?” Chandler grumbled.
“Chandler and Makayla, this is Kelly.”
Chandler’s enormous hand gently shook Kelly’s. “I’m Jack’s brother.”
“Oh, no, don’t start that again!” Makayla gave Chandler a lighthearted poke in the ribs.
Any questions Kelly might have had were cut short when a heavyset woman came through the open kitchen door, laden with grocery bags. Aunt Haddie.
“Who’s letting all the flies in?” She wore a simple dress and her hair was pulled back neatly. The energy that seemed to follow her into the room could have lit a city block. Michelle hurried over and grabbed the bags from her hands.
A warm smile spread across Aunt Haddie’s face when she saw her “Jackie,” and she came over and pulled him into a big hug. Then she turned to Kelly and loudly whispered, “He always left the door open when he was little, too.” She and the miscreant in question exchanged affectionate smiles. “I’m Haddie Williams, but just about everyone calls me Aunt Haddie.”
“Kelly Dawson. Nice to meet you.” They shook hands.
“Do you need a hand with the rest of the groc—” Jack started to say, but just then three young teenagers came pouring through the kitchen door, each lugging a couple of bags.
“Nope.” Aunt Haddie winked. “We have a full house lately. Many hands make light work.”
Didn’t Jack know it. The kitchen was small, but Aunt Haddie ran it like a ship’s galley. He’d seen her put together three meals a day for eight hungry kids, and by the time they were done, the countertops were clean and there wasn’t a single dish in the sink.
“Sweet.” Chandler clapped his hands together, and everyone jumped. He laughed. “Let’s go. I won’t be late.” He kissed Aunt Haddie’s cheek and led Makayla toward the door.
“Is your cousin Lori meeting you there?” Aunt Haddie asked Makayla.
“No. She decided not to come. She’s really upset. Have you guys heard about that missing woman, Stacy Shaw?”
Everyone nodded.
“Well, Lori’s the receptionist at H. T. Wells, where Stacy works.”
“I pray she’s okay.” Aunt Haddie—no stranger to tragedy—gave Makayla’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “All of you be extra careful tonight.” Aunt Haddie fixed her gaze on Jack. “You all need to stay away from trouble.”
“Okay.” Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. “But is there a reason that I’m the focus of your attention here?”
“Yes,” Aunt Haddie said. “Would you like me to provide a list?”
Just the thought of Aunt Haddie running down a list of Jack’s past exploits in front of Kelly was enough to stop him cold. “No, ma’am.”
She wiggled a finger at him and reached up to give him a peck on the cheek.
“It was nice meeting you,” Kelly said as they walked outside.
The four of them were halfway to his car when Aunt Haddie called from the doorway. “Jackie!”
He cringed and felt the color rise in his cheeks. Aunt Haddie was the only person who still called him Jackie.
She called again and waved him back. “Just one second. I have something for Laura. I need to speak to you a minute.”
Kelly nodded toward the Impala. “I’ll wait in the car with Chandler and Makayla.”
“Thanks.”
Jack ran past Aunt Haddie’s latest group of teenage charges, who were heading back to grab another load of groceries, and followed Aunt Haddie into the little hallway. When she turned around, Jack saw her raised eyebrow and groaned. He knew what was coming.
“Don’t go giving me that look, Jack Alton Stratton.”
Jack’s shoulders hunched up. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
She held up a finger. “And you’d better keep it that way. Chandler told me that you applied for a passport.”
Not what he’d expected. “That’s me being responsible. How is that cause for a talk?”
“Because now you’re a short-timer. You’re going to be going overseas soon. People make all sorts of bad choices when they rush into things because they only have a little bit of time. That girl you’re going out with tonight is going to see that special something I saw in you when you first walked through my door eleven years ago, and she may not want to let it go. And when the two of you realize that you’re leaving soon…”
“It’s just a date.”
She reached out, put her hand on his chin, and peered right into his eyes. “You have a sensitive heart.”
Jack tried to pull away, but she held him fast and gave his chin a little shake.
“You need to guard your heart. You love deep. You’ll hurt deep. Go slow.”
“You sound just like Chandler. It’s just a date!”
“That’s right. So keep it that way. Here.” She pressed a thank-you card into his hands. “Tell Ted and Laura how much I appreciate them.”
Jack nodded. His parents had never come out and said so, but Jack knew they gave Aunt Haddie a little money whenever they could.
She kissed his cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Jack made his getaway through the kitchen, where Michelle was directing a whirlwind of motion as the teenagers put away groceries.
“See you!” Jack waved, then whipped open the door and ran onto the porch—straight into a teenage girl straining to carry four bags at once. She stumbled back, miraculously dropping only one bag.
“Watch it!” she snapped. The brown ponytail on top of her head shook back and forth.
“Sorry, kid.” Jack bent down to get the bag at the same time she did and they bumped heads. He rubbed his forehead. “You’ve got a
hard head.”
She grabbed the bag, and he could tell she was about to blast him, but she froze when her blazing green eyes met Jack’s. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.
Jack checked the bag and saw that nothing was broken. He held it out to the girl, but she just stared. He rattled the bag in front of her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She blinked a couple of times and pressed her lips together in an awkward, shy grin. She started to shake her head, but it quickly turned into a nod. The result was her head wobbling all around her shoulders.
Michelle came out onto the porch. Jack looked to her for help, awkwardly holding his hand out in the direction of the girl. Michelle sized up the situation and giggled. She took the girl by the hand and grabbed the bag from Jack. “Have fun!” she called over her shoulder, tugging the girl toward the house.
“See ya, Half-Pint!”
“It’s six thirty-two!” Chandler crowed triumphantly as he got in the car.
Jack was defending himself with the expected affectionate insults and mock indignation as they pulled out onto the street—and saw an unmarked police cruiser coming toward them, with two men in front. Jack recognized one of the men in suits as Detective Tony Vargas.
Chandler pointed. “It’s never good when the suits show up.”
6
When the Suits Show Up
They turned onto the road that ran alongside Hamilton Park and pulled up at the light. A young man swaggered down the sidewalk. He wore his pants low and his baseball cap backward and at an angle.
In the backseat, Makayla wrinkled her nose. “Why do guys do that?”
Kelly looked out the window at the young man and took a deep breath. “Do what?”
“Wear their pants down around their ankles. Don’t they know how unattractive that looks?”
Chandler leaned forward and tapped Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, is that J-Dog?”
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 54
