“Let’s go.” Jack didn’t break stride as he headed out the door.
“Hold on a minute, Sherlock.” Chandler thundered down the back steps after Jack. “So where are we headed?”
“Did Makayla call Nina?”
“Yeah, but Nina’s not answering.”
“Well, let’s head over there anyways.” Jack opened the trunk of the Impala and tossed in his gym bag. Before closing the trunk, he took out a Boston Red Sox baseball cap and pulled it on.
“You’re willing to cover up your precious hair with a hat?” Chandler put on a horrified look.
“You’re the one who’s always messing with your hair, primping and preening.”
“You know it. So would you if you looked this good.” Chandler threw his big arms out and posed like a GQ model.
Jack laughed.
“You’re going to cry when the Army shaves your curly locks, Rapunzel,” Chandler said.
“I don’t mind short hair.”
“We’re not talking shorta—we’re talking none.”
Jack shrugged. “It’ll grow back. I’ll cut it as short as they want for as long as they want, as long as they let me serve.”
Chandler stood by the Impala’s passenger door, but Jack walked right past it. “We’re not driving?” Chandler asked.
“Nah, let’s walk. It’s not far. And you need the exercise.”
“Don’t start with that again.”
“Don’t act like you weren’t eating that cookie a minute ago.”
“You saw?”
“I saw. Plus…” Jack pointed to his own front teeth and Chandler ran his tongue over the front of his. “A little more between those two.” He pointed.
The screen door banged open and Replacement appeared in the doorway. She waved to Chandler. He waved back. She gave him a thumbs-up, and Chandler nodded. Then she vanished back inside.
“What was that all about?” Jack asked as they started walking.
“She’s just letting me know that everything’s cool.”
“What’s she, your watchdog?”
“Be nice. Some people had it different than you coming here,” Chandler said. “You had it bad before, so coming here was a good thing for you. Michelle and I had it real good until my folks died. So did Replacement. Her whole family died in a car accident. She lost everything. Then she went into the system.”
“Her whole family?”
“Yeah. Her mom, dad, and two little brothers.”
They walked a few steps in silence. Chandler kicked a rock. “She and I are a lot alike.”
Jack pictured the petite white girl standing next to his huge black friend. “I guess you don’t have to look like someone to be like them.”
“She’s a good kid. She just—well, at her foster home before this one, she had it real bad.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. He’d grown up with foster kids. Their lives generally started rough and went downhill from there. He didn’t want to think about what “real bad” could mean.
Jack tried not to think of his own past. The numerous therapists he’d seen over the years always told him he should talk about his past, get everything out in the open and deal with it—but Jack insisted on doing the opposite. Whenever old wounds opened back up, he would just shut down. He couldn’t kill the past, so he’d buried it. He was determined to cage the demons that raged inside him and lock them away so they could never get out.
Chandler punched his arm—hard.
Jack stumbled sideways. “Hey!”
Chandler made a goofy face.
“Why’d you do that?” Jack snapped.
“You looked like you wanted to kill someone.”
“So you hit me? That’s brilliant.”
“I wanted to get you thinking about something else.” Chandler grinned. “It worked.”
Jack stared at Chandler’s smiling face and his temper cooled. His friend was right. “Idiot.”
“But you just called me brilliant!” Chandler’s smile widened.
Jack shook his head, and they walked in step again. He didn’t want to admit it, but Chandler was probably the biggest reason he stayed sane. The pull of hate and anger inside Jack was strong, and he found himself frequently drawn to the darkness. But Chandler always had a way of coaxing him back from the edge. What might Jack have become without all those years of his friend’s help? He shoved Chandler’s shoulder, and his big friend laughed.
Jack had never understood how Chandler and Michelle had turned out so normal. They’d lost their parents when they were both little, yet they didn’t seem to bear the scars Jack did. He felt like a jigsaw puzzle with a bunch of pieces missing. But they seemed happy all the time.
As they neared the end of the street, Chandler asked, “Are we cutting through the park?”
“Yeah. I want to check the basketball courts. Two Point hangs there, so maybe somebody saw something.”
“Too bad we can’t ask Victor.” Chandler looked around. “I bet he knows where Two Point is.”
Jack stopped. “Victor Perez?”
“Yeah.” Chandler stopped too. “Two Point’s part of the D Street Crew—Victor’s gang. You knew that, right?”
“No. But you’re right, the gang leader would know. If Nina’s not around, we should definitely talk to Victor.”
Chandler looked at Jack as if he had three heads. “Are you out of your mind? Talking to Victor’s no joke. You risk a bullet in your head just by being near him.”
Jack shrugged. “I just want to talk to him, not fight with him. Besides, I know Victor.”
“Maybe a long time ago you did,” Chandler said. “Trust me, Victor is bad news. Everyone in his crew is packing. It’s bad all the way around.”
Jack kicked a rock across the road. Following the path of the rock, he noticed a ponytail poking out from behind a large elm tree. Replacement. “Your watchdog followed us,” Jack whispered.
Chandler smiled but didn’t let on that they’d seen her. “She does that.”
Jack angled his head back toward the tree. “She shouldn’t go where we’re headed.”
“Listen to your own advice. We shouldn’t go there either,” Chandler grumbled. But he turned around and whistled.
Replacement immediately popped out from her hiding spot. Without a word, Chandler pointed back to the house. Replacement’s shoulders slumped, but she obediently turned and started jogging back toward Aunt Haddie’s.
Chandler turned back to Jack. “Are we really gonna do this?” he asked. “I don’t feel like getting shot.”
“You don’t have to come,” Jack said.
“Yes, I do. I don’t want to. I don’t think you should go. But if you go, I go.” Chandler held up a large hand. “But let me be clear. I’m just going to watch your back.”
“Then let’s go.”
10
A Favor
Jack and Chandler entered Hamilton Park through the west gate—the side that bordered the projects, where the main power lines entered town. The three-story-tall electric towers cut a wide green swath away from the park like a river of grass that stretched into the distance until it eventually wound its way north.
They walked past the old baseball diamond and playground. The diamond had been abandoned by park maintenance years ago, and the playground was in no better shape. The V-shaped metal supports for the swings were still standing, but only a few rusted chains dangled down. Overlooking it all, on a little hill, sat a single picnic table. Since the table afforded a 360-degree view, it was the spot of choice for people who wanted to see who was coming.
Four men sat at the table. Shirtless, with more tattoos than bare skin, the three who faced Jack and Chandler’s direction all had the same sneer. As Jack and Chandler approached, they rose and swaggered forward. The fourth man, Victor, remained seated with his back to them.
“This is an extremely stupid idea,” Chandler muttered to Jack. “When was the last time you talked to Victor, anyway?”
“Whe
n we played baseball.”
Chandler mashed his lips together. “That was in middle school.”
“And that was the last time I talked to him.”
Chandler’s nostrils flared.
As Jack scanned the men up ahead, he was grateful to have Chandler with him. “Thanks for coming.”
“Just ask him about Two Point and let’s get out of here.”
The tallest of the three men walked forward and stopped in front of Jack. He looked like half the guys Jack had seen in the prison’s exercise yard. The muscles in his chest flexed as he clenched and unclenched his hands.
“Whatcha want?” he asked, seeming eager for a flippant answer as an excuse to fight. His mouth stayed open after he spoke, revealing a line of gold teeth.
“I’m Jack Stratton. I’m here to talk to Victor.”
“Jack Stratton?” Victor got up and turned around.
It had been years since Jack had seen Victor up close. The thin, gangly kid Jack remembered bore little resemblance to this hardened man with lean muscles covered in tattoos.
“Hey, Victor. Long time. You got a minute?”
Victor strutted forward. From the bulge under his shirt, it was clear he was packing. Jack’s pulse quickened. Just ask about Two Point and get out of here.
Victor stopped a couple of feet in front of Jack, crossed his arms, and tilted his head back. “What you want from me, little white Boy Scout?”
The other guys laughed.
Jack let the rip go. “A favor. You got a second?” Jack pointed with his thumb over to the old swing set. He didn’t want to talk to Victor in front of his crew.
Victor smoothed down the ends of his thin mustache, debating for a second. Jack hoped it was all an act to show who was in charge.
“I just need a favor,” Jack said.
Victor nodded to his posse and started walking, but he stopped when Chandler followed. Chandler’s eyes went back and forth between Jack and Victor. Jack gave Chandler a quick nod. He hoped that let him know he wasn’t happy about the situation, but it was best to do whatever Victor wanted.
“I’ll wait here,” Chandler grumbled.
When they were out of earshot, Victor spoke. “Ask.” He eyed Jack suspiciously.
“You hear about J-Dog?”
“Hear about him? They pulled me in too when that lady went missing. Is that why he got arrested?”
“The cops talked to you?”
“Yeah, whatcha think?” Victor spat. “They know I’m in charge of Hamilton, and she worked near here. A fly farts in the park and they think I got something to do with it.” He crossed his arms, and the muscles in his forearms rippled the dragon tattoos. “I don’t talk to you since middle school and now you show up asking questions? I heard you wanna be a cop. You workin’ for ’em?”
Jack’s mind raced. This wasn’t how he imagined the conversation would go. “Aunt Haddie is friends with J-Dog’s mom,” he said. “I’m just helping out.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You wearin’ a wire?”
Without hesitation, Jack pulled his shirt off over his head.
“You really are a Boy Scout, huh?” Victor took out a cigarette. “Helpin’ your foster mom and savin’ little old ladies’ handbags?”
“You know about that?”
Victor gave Jack a look. “I know everything that goes on in my part of town.” He lit the smoke. “I believe you. Put your shirt back on. So, what’s this favor?”
Jack pulled his shirt over his head. “I’m looking for Two Point. Have you seen him?”
“No, but that squid better not be around here. I kicked him to the curb for the stuff he was pulling. Him boosting from cars got me dragged into the pigpen.”
“He was mugging people?”
Victor scoffed. “Two Point’s spineless. He’s no dog—he’s a weasel. He doesn’t have the nuts to jack a nun. I caught him boosting from cars in the parking lot, so I bounced his sorry ass.” Victor looked back up the hill. “Stealing’s bad for business. It brings the cops down on the area. I don’t want the heat around. So nobody steals.”
“If you see him, will you let me know?”
Victor smoothed out his stubble. “I will. But then we’re even.”
“Even? For what?”
“It’s a small world, Boy Scout. That lady who got robbed outside Ma Barker’s? She’s my abuela.”
Jack racked his brain trying to remember his Spanish classes.
“If I hear something, I’ll reach out.” Victor tapped his chest with two fingers. Then he headed back up the hill.
Jack waved Chandler over and started walking away. Chandler jogged up beside him. When they were out of the park and out of Victor’s sight, Chandler punched Jack’s arm. “I told you those guys were bad news,” Chandler growled in a low whisper.
Jack rubbed his arm. “That killed.”
“Sorry. It was a little harder than I intended.”
“A little? It felt like you hit me with a telephone pole.”
“Yeah, well, you deserved it. The small guy with the big skull tattoo was packing.”
“So was Victor.”
“I hate being around gangbangers with guns. Who knows when someone’s gonna start shooting? So, did Victor tell you anything?”
Jack looked back over his shoulder. The men returned to sit around the table again, one standing sentinel. “He kicked Tommy out of his crew for breaking into cars in the parking lot. He hasn’t seen him.”
“You believe him?”
“Victor’s telling us straight. He doesn’t know anything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You know the old lady with the handbag?” Jack grinned. “She’s Victor’s abuela.”
“His grandmother? No way.”
Grandmother. I knew it was something like that.
Chandler kicked a rock. “So basically we don’t know anything.”
“Actually, I’ve got a plan to flush Two Point out.”
11
You’re Not My Date
Jack held open the door to Tullie’s Café, but Chandler didn’t go in.
“What, you want a coffee now?” Chandler asked.
“No. Nina will be here soon.”
Chandler stepped aside so a woman could exit. “How do you know that?”
“Makayla said Nina posts every detail of her life on Facebook. So I checked her page. She ‘liked’ Tullie’s milkshake special and commented that she’s getting one after work today.”
“So she might be here. You could have told me that earlier,” Chandler muttered as he walked in.
Inside the café, a few regulars sipped coffee, read, or chatted away. A long counter and stools ran the length of the front window, and six round tables the size of extra-large pizzas dotted the middle of the room. In the back was a counter where three teenagers waited for a customer to interrupt them from whatever they were doing on their phones.
They headed to the back counter. One of the three teenagers glanced up from her texting.
Jack turned to Chandler. “Get what you want. It’s on me.”
“No.”
“I’m dragging you all over the place. The least I can do is get you a coffee.”
Chandler peered into the glass counter and waved his hand. “No. The least you could do is get me an extra-large vanilla milkshake, a chocolate fudge bar…” He straightened up and added with a boyish grin, “And a strawberry-frosted sprinkle doughnut.”
Jack held up a hand to the teenager. “Don’t get him that.” To Chandler he said, “Why don’t you get a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, so you at least get some protein?”
“Because it doesn’t taste as good.”
“You’re not getting all that junk.”
“You’re not my date. I can order for myself.”
Jack leaned back. “Fine. Blow your weigh-in. I’ll send you a postcard from Germany.”
Chandler scowled.
The barista shifted uncomfortably, her e
yes moving back and forth between them.
Chandler huffed. “Fine.”
Jack pulled out his wallet. “I’m still paying.”
Chandler ordered a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Jack got a coffee and a biscuit.
“Counter or table?” Chandler asked.
“Table in the far corner,” Jack said. “I want to keep an eye on the door.”
“Smart. Where’d you learn that?”
“Clint Eastwood.” Jack sat down and did his best High Plains Drifter impersonation. “You never put your back to the door, you keep your eyes on it.”
They took their food, thanked the barista, who mumbled, “Have a good one”—not looking up from her phone—and went to the corner table. Jack nodded to the door. “Perfect angle.”
Chandler took in the scene. “Yeah, that works.” He turned to face Jack. “You’re not turning into Dirty Harry, are you?”
Jack started to take a bite of his biscuit, but Chandler rapped Jack’s knuckles with the handle of a fork.
“Ow.” Jack shook his hand. “What was that for?”
“You didn’t pray.” Chandler bowed his head. “Dear Lord, please watch over our families while we’re serving. Protect them here. Thank you for this food. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
“It’s a biscuit,” Jack said. “You don’t have to pray for a snack.”
“I’ll tell Aunt Haddie you said so.” Chandler unwrapped his sandwich.
“You’re not going to do that at every meal when we go overseas though, right?” Jack asked.
“I most certainly am.”
“Why? You’re not going to be a chaplain.”
“I’m just saying thank you. It’s polite.”
As they ate, Jack kept an eye on the door. They were quiet while Chandler finished up his sandwich, but when he was done, he nervously tapped the table. “What’re we going to do, Jack?”
“What are we going to do about what?”
Chandler flicked a sugar packet across the table, using a fork like a hockey stick. “When we’re overseas. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to anyone at Aunt Haddie’s.”
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 59
