“If this made the papers,” Aunt Haddie said, “wouldn’t this be a black eye on the Fairfield Police Department?”
“Mrs. Williams.” Superintendent Finney’s voice was calm and even. “I do appreciate your concern and bringing this information to light.” She turned to Brian. “Please wait with Mrs. Williams, Sergeant.” Her carefully crafted neutral expression remained in place, but when she turned, Jack saw her blue eyes blazing like pilot lights. She headed straight to Detective Vargas’s office and closed the door.
Laying a hand on Brian’s arm, Aunt Haddie said, “I’m the one who got Jack involved in this whole situation, trying to do a good deed for somebody. Blame me. But please don’t take it out on Jack. Do you know tomorrow marks eleven years ago that they brought him here?”
“I remember. When the kid figured out he couldn’t go back to his mom, he went ballistic and tried to escape. It was like someone let a rabid raccoon loose. He almost made it out the door.” Brian grinned crookedly. “I think half the cops wanted to open the door and let him go.”
“But you managed to calm him down.”
“Me?” Brian chuckled. “I managed to lure him into an office with a sandwich, that’s all. You’re the only one who could calm him down.”
Superintendent Finney stepped out of Vargas’s office and beckoned Brian over. Although Jack couldn’t hear what was said, it was obvious that what followed was a one-way conversation: the superintendent spoke and Brian listened. When Finney was done with him, she abruptly retreated back into Vargas’s office.
As Brian walked to Aunt Haddie, his small smile was tighter. “You’ll talk to his parents?” he said.
Aunt Haddie’s chin rose. “I will. Will he be charged?”
“No, ma’am.”
Aunt Haddie let out her breath. “Thank you.”
Brian turned toward where Jack was waiting. The sergeant, at least, knew that Jack had been listening to the entire exchange. He motioned for Jack to get up and come over.
Jack walked over hesitantly. He expected Aunt Haddie to be furious with him, but the look on her face reminded him of the same warm expression that she’d had when he first met her.
I guess that’s what unconditional love looks like.
“Oh, Jackie.” She wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Haddie,” Jack said. “And I’m sorry you had to come down here.”
“Don’t you be sorry about that. What else was I going to do after Michelle told me what happened? Let’s just get you home. We’ll work things out.” They headed for the exit.
“Do my parents know yet?”
Aunt Haddie shook her head. “But Detective Clark said he left messages on both their phones.”
Jack groaned as he held open the front door of the police station. “I’m dead.”
“No you’re not. I’ll speak to them.”
“I’m still dead.”
“Let’s get you home and we can discuss your demise calmly.”
They climbed into Aunt Haddie’s station wagon and headed home. Sitting in the front seat beside Haddie brought the heaviness back to Jack’s chest. Eleven years later, and here they were, in the same car, pulling out of the same police parking lot.
Jack stared out the window. He fought to push the memories of his past into the shadows where he liked them, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape who he was. All his studying, all his training—in vain.
“Vargas was right. I am nothing.”
Aunt Haddie patted his shoulder. “Don’t you ever say such a thing, Jackie. We’ll get this mess untangled. I’ll explain everything to your parents.”
“There’s no explaining. My father’s going to… Can we just forget it happened?”
“You did nothing wrong. Well, you should have called the police first, but”—she pressed her lips together as if she was about to give him foul-tasting medicine—“I do know something that could help soften the news of your being brought down to the police station.”
“Name it.”
“You know what tomorrow is?”
“Garbage Day.”
“Stop calling it that. It’s your birthday.”
“Same thing. She threw me away. Like garbage. I really don’t understand why everyone wants to celebrate that.”
“It’s a day that I thank the Lord for, because it’s your birthday.”
Jack chuckled bitterly. “Just because the social worker wrote that date on the form doesn’t make it my birthday. I don’t know when my real birthday is.”
Aunt Haddie shook her head. “Then let every day be your birthday. Today’s a new day. Besides, the day doesn’t belong to you or anyone else. It’s the Lord’s. He’s just letting you enjoy it.”
“I’m sure having a blast with this one,” Jack muttered.
She whacked his shoulder playfully.
“Ouch! Is that where Chandler gets it from?” Jack rubbed his arm.
Aunt Haddie laughed. She took a right and pulled onto her street. “Your mom would really like to make you a cake, you know.”
Jack groaned. “Please tell her not to. Is Chandler around?”
“He’s still helping Mr. Emerson. I suggest you go over there and give them a hand.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to go explain to your father that I just picked you up at the police station. Jackie, I know you were just trying to help that woman. I know, too, that your taking me and Mrs. Martin to the prison to see Jay made you look bad to that Detective Vargas. You’ve done all you can. You need to leave it to the police. I’ll explain all that. But that explanation will go over a lot better if I can add that you’re currently helping a widow.”
“Right now, every time I help someone, I get jacked up.”
“Don’t be silly. Jewels in your crown in Heaven.”
Jack grumbled, “With the way everything’s going, the angels are going to accuse me of stealing those jewels.”
Jack spent the rest of the day helping Mr. Emerson and Chandler install a washer and dryer for Mrs. McDermott. First they had to take the old units down three flights of stairs. Then they discovered that part of the floor was rotted, so they had to rip it up and patch it. Finally they were able to install the appliances that Mr. Emerson had rebuilt.
By the time they were done, it was almost eight and Jack was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go home, enjoy his mom’s cooking, wash up, and go to bed. But he wasn’t ready to face his mom and dad yet, until he’d spoken to Aunt Haddie. Maybe she could give him some idea of just how much trouble he was in.
He drove Chandler back to Aunt Haddie’s and followed him inside. They were greeted by the aroma of her baked mac and cheese. His smile vanished when Michelle held the phone out to him.
“Jack, it’s your dad.”
Chandler gave Jack a look that said, Good luck.
I’ll need it, Jack thought. Guess it’s time to face the music.
“Hello?” Jack said.
His father cleared his throat. “Jack…can you explain to me what happened today? I’ve heard Aunt Haddie’s version, and I just got off a call with Detective Clark. But I haven’t yet heard a word from my own son. Would you care to fill me in?”
Jack took a deep breath, then ran down everything that had happened in the park. When he finished, there was a long silence.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” his father said. Jack pictured him cleaning off his glasses while he gathered his thoughts. “If you believed that man was attacking that woman, you should have gotten the police, not tackled him yourself.”
“There wasn’t time to get the cops. What was I supposed to do?”
“Get the cops anyway.”
“I sent Michelle.”
“You should have waited for them.”
“Dad, I’m going to be a policeman.”
“You’re not one yet.”
Aunt Haddie had been bustling around and was setting some ba
ked mac and cheese, green beans, and buttered biscuits on the table, along with a pitcher of lemonade. “Suppertime, Jack,” she said, loudly enough that his father would hear.
Jack covered the receiver. “It’s my dad.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I need to speak with him.” Aunt Haddie held out a hand and smiled.
“Ah, Dad. Aunt Haddie wants to talk to you.” Jack quickly handed the phone to her.
“Hi, Ted. I just wanted to assure you that everything is fine. After I spoke with you, I had a long talk with Jack, and we discussed everything you said. I just put supper down for him. He sure did work so hard today helping Mrs. McDermott, poor woman.” She gave Jack a wink. “With him being so tired, would you mind if he spent the night?”
There was a slight pause.
“Thank you, Ted. I’ll be sure to send him home first thing in the morning, with it being his birthday.”
Aunt Haddie listened and nodded.
“Okay. Give my love to Laura.”
Jack raised his glass of lemonade in salute. “Aunt Haddie, you’re the best.”
“I try. I know it was because of me and Mrs. Martin that you got caught between the switches today. Now eat your supper and get to bed. You boys both look like you need it.”
Jack lay on the bed in his old bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Despite his physical exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep.
When the clock on the little table flipped to 11:57, Jack decided to give up on sleep. He slid out of bed and went over to the desk in the corner. Turning on the desk lamp, he grabbed his notebook and turned to a fresh page. He wrote Why? at the top of the page and underlined it. Then he started writing his questions.
A few minutes later there was a tap on the door, and Chandler stuck his head in.
“What’s up?” Jack whispered.
Chandler slipped inside and walked over. “I saw your light turn on. What’s up? Can’t sleep?”
“You’re not sleeping either.”
Chandler looked down at Jack’s notebook. “What’s with the why?”
Jack tapped his pen on the notepad, then dropped it. “I’ve got a problem with whys. That’s what my therapist said, anyway. Why did my mother throw me away? Why did she keep me so long? Why, why, why. I hate why. I want answers. So she told me to write down the whys. That’s what I’m doing.”
“What about?”
“Stacy Shaw. There’s a lot of things that don’t make sense to me.”
“Aunt Haddie said you should let it go and leave it to the cops.”
“I know. But there’s nothing wrong with writing on a piece of paper. That won’t get me arrested.”
“True.”
“I mean, why was Stacy Shaw’s car at Ford’s Crossing?”
“I still figure she was heading home and crashed. What we don’t know is why she would go into the park after,” Chandler said.
Jack tapped the page. “That’s number four on my list. Number five, why was Stacy’s phone in the car and not in her handbag?”
Chandler scrunched up his nose and closed one eye. But his train of thought was derailed by an enormous yawn. “We can get answers tomorrow. You should go to bed.”
“Did you come in here to tell me that?”
Chandler grinned. “Yeah. I know you. Let it go. You’re getting all wound up. Go to sleep.”
“I will.”
Chandler walked back to the door. “I almost forgot. Happy birthday.” He grinned.
Jack didn’t. “It’s not until tomorrow.”
“It already is tomorrow.” Chandler pointed at the clock; it was after midnight. “Think about it. Eleven years ago, you got to meet me. Best birthday present ever, huh?”
Jack chuckled. “Go to bed, Mr. Humble.”
Chandler yawned. “’Night.”
Jack picked up his pen, turned back to his notebook, and sketched out the crime scene. When he couldn’t remember a detail, he closed his eyes until he could picture it. He was thinking, tapping the pen against the page, when somewhere inside the house he heard a girl’s scream.
Jack raced to the bedroom door. Another terrorized shriek came, definitely close by, echoing down the hall. He ripped open the door just as the scream trailed off.
In the bedroom directly across from Jack’s, a girl cried out, “GET OFF ME!”
Jack grabbed the door handle, but it was locked. He lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door. Wood splintered, and broken pieces flew as the door smashed open.
Replacement lay in her bed. Jack ran over to her. Her green eyes were filled with terror, and her whole body was rigid. “GET OFF ME!” she shrieked again.
Jack looked frantically around the room for her attacker, but there was no one. He gently touched Replacement’s arm. “Are you okay?”
Chandler and Michelle charged into the room. Michelle immediately raced over to Replacement and wrapped her arms around her. Replacement’s eyes were open, but by now Jack didn’t think she was actually awake.
Aunt Haddie appeared in the doorway and exchanged a knowing look with Michelle.
“Shh,” Michelle whispered, rocking the girl in her arms. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Replacement shook her head and blinked rapidly. She looked at Michelle as if she’d never seen her before. Then she burst into tears and buried her face in Michelle’s shoulder.
“Come on, boys.” Aunt Haddie ushered Jack and Chandler out of the room. She pulled the door closed, then frowned when she saw the broken lock.
“Sorry.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “She was screaming for help, and it was locked.”
“That’s okay.” Aunt Haddie patted his cheek. “Always the white knight. I’m sure you and Chandler can fix it.”
“Me?” Chandler pointed at Jack. “Just because he doesn’t know how to turn a doorknob, I…” Chandler trailed off when Aunt Haddie’s eyebrow rose. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”
Jack tipped his head toward Replacement’s bedroom. “What’s wrong with her?”
They all heard the muffled sobbing continuing, and Michelle’s reassuring murmurs.
Aunt Haddie shook her head. “Night terrors. Poor little angel. She’s been through hell.” Aunt Haddie’s eyes teared up. “She’ll be okay. The good Lord willing, she’ll be okay. You boys go to bed now.” She kissed them both and then went downstairs.
Chandler walked back to his room.
“Sorry about the door,” Jack called after him.
Chandler stopped. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you I was mad at.” His muscles tensed and his eyes smoldered. “She’s such a good kid. Who’d hurt someone like that? Some people are just evil.” He went into his bedroom and closed the door.
Jack did the same. When he turned off the desk lamp, the darkness seemed even deeper now than it had before. He lay down on the bed. Still unable to fall asleep, he interlaced his fingers behind his head and thought about a woman he’d never met. Who was Stacy Shaw? Someone’s daughter. Someone’s wife. Jack knew he wasn’t just trying to prove Jay was innocent. He was doing something more—trying to catch the person who’d killed a young mother looking forward to a new life and the baby that never had a chance.
The killer waited for her. He rushed her in the dark. Then he dragged her into the woods.
Jack heard his heart thump loudly.
Chandler’s words made his stomach tighten. Some people are evil.
Just before he slipped into sleep, he realized: I’m hunting a monster.
23
Spirit Day
Jack and Chandler walked out the back door of Aunt Haddie’s the next morning, and there was Replacement, sitting on the steps with her head in her hands. The samurai-style ponytail on top of her head drooped down her shoulders.
“What’s the matter?” Chandler asked.
“Nothing,” she mumbled. Her eyes looked like they had cried a lot last night, and maybe weren’t far from it right now.
Chandler squatted down and eyed her s
uspiciously.
She made a face. “Today’s Fairfield Town Spirit Day at the community center, but I don’t have anything to wear that says Fairfield.”
“Ask Michelle! She has lots of stuff,” Chandler said.
The ponytail danced back and forth as Replacement shook her head. “Nope. She has two Fairfield shirts. She’s wearing one and she’s letting Moisha wear the other.”
“I’m sure she didn’t realize…” Chandler patted her shoulder.
“I know that.” She pouted. “And I know Michelle would give me her own shirt if I asked, so I’m not asking.”
“Does it have to be from middle school?” Jack asked.
Replacement didn’t look up. “No. Just anything with Fairfield on it.”
Jack pulled off his Fairfield High T-shirt and held it out to her. “It’ll be huge on you, but it’s Fairfield.”
She stared up at him, blinking, not reaching out for the shirt.
Jack sniffed the shirt. “I just put it on. It’s clean.”
Her mouth dropped open, and slowly she reached out for the shirt, her eyes glassy and out of focus. She suddenly rose to her feet, clutching Jack’s shirt to her chest, and bolted inside.
“You’re welcome, kid,” Jack muttered.
Chandler laughed at Jack. “You gonna go out half-naked, or do you want me to run upstairs and get you another shirt?”
“Nah. I got a clean shirt in the trunk.”
Chandler smacked his arm as they walked to the car. “I bet she never forgets that.”
“What’s the big deal?” Why did she keep staring at me like that? Jack shrugged. “It’s just a shirt.”
Chandler shook his head. “Sometimes you’re clueless.”
“What?”
“I probably shouldn’t say anything, but—Michelle told me that Replacement has a huge crush on you. Besides, you remember what it was like. How many people do you think would do something like that for her?”
“You, for one.” Jack opened the trunk, grabbed a clean gym shirt, and pulled it on.
“You know I would. We’re fighting evil, man.” Chandler smiled. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this either, but Michelle said Replacement thinks you’re like Batman. But”—his chest puffed up—“she thinks I’m like Superman.”
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 69
