Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  “Not good.” Jack cursed.

  Jack passed a Buick and took a left. The Toyota stayed with them. Michael screamed something. Spit flew against Michael’s windshield as he ranted and gestured at Jack to pull over.

  “I knew it.” Chandler smacked his forehead. “I knew something like this would happen.”

  “I’ll lose him.” Jack took a right and headed down a narrow two-way street.

  “In this wind-up toy? I don’t think so.”

  Michael was right on their tail.

  The light ahead turned yellow.

  Jack didn’t slow down.

  “Jack…”

  A huge black SUV barreled from left to right toward the intersection ahead of them, but Jack still didn’t slow.

  “The SUV’s jumping the red light.” Chandler put his huge hands on the dash.

  “There’s a passenger-side airbag. Sit back or it’ll break your arms.”

  “Stop the car and it won’t go off!”

  Jack’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “He’ll stop.”

  “You won’t make it.”

  “I might.”

  “Might?” Chandler’s voice shrilled.

  The compact zipped in front of the huge SUV. The SUV driver laid on the horn and slammed on the brakes.

  Jack didn’t see the BMW taking a right.

  Chandler screamed. So did Jack, but he kept the gas pedal pinned to the floor. The BMW just missed the rear bumper, and Jack’s little car with the I Love My Math Teacher bumper sticker sped through the now snarled intersection, to the accompaniment of horns blaring and people cursing.

  Jack looked back. Michael had skidded to a stop behind them, on the other side of the intersection.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Stratton?” Chandler roared. “You could have killed me, you, and everyone else back at that intersection.”

  “How am I going to kill them in this tin can? Sure, we’d die, but this car would’ve bounced off the SUV without even denting it. And the light was still kinda yellow.”

  “You know, it’s not too reassuring that you care so little about us dying.”

  “We didn’t.”

  “Unacceptable risk. Learn that term.” Chandler smacked the dashboard with his fist. “I’m not taking them, and neither are you. You need to be responsible.”

  “I am responsible,” Jack said.

  “No, you’re not. If you haven’t realized it about yourself yet, let me explain it to you. You’re the wild child of the family. I’m the responsible one.”

  “I’m not that wild.”

  Chandler laughed. It was deep and real. “So says the crazy man who just gunned it through an intersection in a toy car.” He mimed driving, holding his hands out and making a high-pitched whine.

  Jack laughed.

  After several minutes of weaving down side streets, Jack headed toward the highway. “I think we lost him.”

  “I hope so. He looked nuts. What now?”

  “I’m going to talk to Detective Clark. The police will have to look at Shaw now.”

  27

  Not Your Case

  “You what?” Detective Clark glanced across the lawn of the police station and took a long drag of his cigarette.

  “I didn’t break any laws,” Jack said defensively.

  Clark jabbed the air with his cigarette. “Before we get into breaking laws, did you miss the part where Detective Vargas told you that this is an ongoing investigation?”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” The old detective’s wrinkles became even more pronounced as he scowled. “And it’s not my case.”

  Jack felt his frustration rising. He respected Detective Clark and valued his opinion, but right now the detective’s dour expression hurt Jack. “It’s wrong to just sit there. I had to try to do something. I tried to explain to Detective Vargas, but he didn’t listen. So I decided to look into it myself.” Jack squared his shoulders.

  Clark sighed, but his scowl remained. “You may as well tell me what you found. Start at the beginning.”

  Jack took out his notebook.

  “You took notes?”

  Jack nodded. “I went to H. T. Wells and started asking around.”

  “You can’t do that, Jack.”

  “There’s no law against talking to people.”

  “There is one about hindering a police investigation.”

  “I’m just trying to bring you other possibilities. Vargas is locked in on Jay, when he should be looking at other people too.”

  “Such as?”

  “Stacy’s manager, Leland Chambers. He argued with Stacy that night. Over a report. For the Right-A-Way Shipping company.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  “The custodian, Jeremy. And Betty Robinson corroborated. When I questioned Mr. Chambers about the report, it really got under his skin, and he had Jeremy fired.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “I thought so.”

  Clark pulled out his own notepad and started to take notes. “Go on.”

  “I also found someone in the park you need to look at. Alex Hernandez.”

  Clark’s expression soured. “I know Alex.”

  “Well, the night of the murder, Alex was in the area right next to where Stacy’s body was found. He calls it an outpost.”

  Clark lowered his notepad. “Wait a minute—he spoke with you?”

  “Yes. He answered a few questions.”

  “Do you know how unbalanced he is?” Clark took another long drag. His face glowed almost as brightly as the end of the cigarette.

  “I do now.”

  Clark ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve already spoken with Alex. Detective Vargas interviewed him too. Alex cooperated fully.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t part of this investigation.”

  Clark’s scowled deepened. “I said it’s not my case. But when you work law enforcement, it’s all hands on deck. Besides, if there’s an issue with Alex, they call me in. How was he after you spoke to him?”

  “Agitated. He got really upset. Was he a suspect in his wife’s murder?”

  “No. He was overseas at the time.” Clark looked around. “I’ll have to go talk to him again. Where did you see him?”

  “In the basement of the old maintenance building at Hamilton Park. He told me he saw a messenger that night, in civilian clothes. I think he was talking about a jogger, and based on his description of the shoes, that jogger was Leland Chambers.”

  Clark flicked his ashes. “Alex thinks that all joggers are messengers. There were several in the park that night—we talked to a few. We interviewed Chambers too.”

  “I think you should be looking at both Alex and Chambers.” Jack’s eyes lit up. “You gave Alex the key to the maintenance building.”

  Clark sucked on his cigarette so hard Jack was surprised it didn’t burst into flame. “Alex didn’t tell you that.”

  “No. You did.”

  Clark’s forehead creased.

  “You weren’t surprised when I said I talked to him inside the maintenance building.”

  Clark exhaled until the last puff of smoke drifted out of his mouth. “I didn’t give him the key, but I do overlook the fact that he has it.” He clicked his tongue. “I feel bad for him after what happened to his wife. I worked her murder.”

  “My mother told me.” Jack shook his head. “Did you catch the murderer? Is he in jail?”

  “No.”

  “So whoever murdered Alex’s wife could have murdered Stacy Shaw. It’s the same MO. Anne Hernandez was pregnant, wasn’t she?”

  “They’re not in jail because they’re dead.” Clark watched a group of police officers walk into the station. “Being a cop is a ticket to hell, Jack. Sometimes you have to see things people shouldn’t see. Anne Hernandez was killed in a home invasion. Two junkies were looking to stick up a drug dealer at home. But they got the wrong address. They tortured Anne for hours, trying to
get her to give up where the dope was.” He snuffed out his cigarette and took out another. “It was one of the worst crime scenes I’ve ever seen. Once she was dead, they stole her car, took what money she had, and bought a load of heroin. We found them the next day—OD’d.” Clark cupped his hand around his cigarette as he lit it. “And Alex…he never went home again. His old house is right across the street from the maintenance building, but he won’t go there—won’t leave the park. He believes Anne’s still alive and had the baby. He thinks it’s his mission to stay and watch over them—from a distance. Recon.”

  “But you don’t think he had anything to do with Stacy Shaw’s death? Even with his camp right there?”

  “No, I don’t.” Clark rolled his shoulders. “Did you find out anything else?”

  “I followed Michael Shaw to Darrington. First he stopped by a law office.”

  “Did you get the name?”

  Jack flipped through his notebook. “Tate, Wolfe, and Rice.”

  Clark wrote the name on his pad. “Continue.”

  Jack explained everything that had happened, from Shaw’s Facebook status to following him to the bistro, to baiting him to the blonde’s office. He took his time going over each step.

  “Is that everything?” Clark eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not leaving anything out?”

  “That’s everything.”

  A muscle in Clark’s jaw twitched. “Hold on a second.” He took out his phone.

  “Who are you calling? Detective Vargas?” Jack felt a mix of vindication and pride wash over him. “You’re going to have him look at Michael Shaw, right?”

  “No, I’m calling your father.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open. “What? Why?”

  “Why?” Clark looked at Jack as if he had four heads for even asking the question. “Ted? Hi, it’s Derrick. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need you to come down to the station. It’s about Jack.” Pause. “Yes, he’s with me now.” Pause. “No, nothing like that.” Another pause. “Fifteen minutes sounds good. Thanks, Ted.”

  Clark clicked off the phone and took a drag of his cigarette.

  Jack stood there, shocked. “Why would you do that? Why not look into the information I gave you?”

  “I told you this is an ongoing investigation. If you want to stick your neck out, you have to be ready to face the consequences. Are you ready to do that?”

  “You’re going to screw me up getting into the Army? If I don’t go to the Army, I’ve got no shot at being a cop!”

  Clark shook his head. “I’m not jeopardizing that. Look, like you said, you didn’t break any laws—from what you told me. But this isn’t a game, Jack.” He closed his notebook. “Do you know what you’ve figured out? Nothing. Detective Vargas has everything you gave me.”

  “What? How?” Jack shook his head. “Vargas wasn’t looking into this. He’s focused on Jay.”

  Clark looked at the sky. “You rushed to a judgment about the police and Detective Vargas. You thought because Jay confessed to finding the wallet that we’d just stick a bow on it, have a few drinks, and pat each other on the back. Well, you’re wrong, Jack. It doesn’t work that way. We don’t work that way.”

  “But you’re not even looking—”

  “We’ve had an APB out for Tommy Martin since the day Stacy went missing. We know what we’re doing, Jack. We just don’t make everything public knowledge, especially to someone we think is his friend.”

  “But what about the other suspects?”

  “Detective Vargas interviewed everyone at H. T. Wells. We canvassed the park with more than a few dozen officers and interviewed anyone who might have seen or heard anything. We brought in Michael Shaw for questioning too. Right at the start.”

  “But you didn’t know about the affair.”

  “Yes, we did, Jack. Shaw told us about it, first thing. He was ashamed, but he came clean.”

  “He told you about having an affair?”

  “Shaw made it sound like it was over but he told us everything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Jack, having an affair makes him a scumbag, but it doesn’t make him a murderer.”

  “But it’s a motive.”

  “It could be. But a good portion of the population has affairs, and they’re not killing each other.”

  “Maybe he took out a big insurance policy on Stacy?” Jack suggested. “That would give him motive.”

  “I’m not sure if he had any insurance. If he did, it wasn’t much.” Clark flipped his notebook closed. “Michael Shaw was in Schenectady for work. Do you know how we know that?”

  Jack didn’t say anything. He wanted to find a hole to crawl in and die. He stared at his worn sneakers.

  “We investigated every lead. We pulled cell phone records for both Stacy and Michael. We even pulled the surveillance footage from that hotel. Michael’s car didn’t leave the parking lot. Detective Vargas even drove up to Schenectady and interviewed the damn concierge who was on duty that night.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “There’s a lot you didn’t know. Do you want to? Do you want to know what’s really going on?”

  Jack forced himself to look Clark in the eye.

  “Then let me tell you. Up until twenty-four hours ago, we had an airtight case against the guy who killed Stacy Shaw—Jay Martin. But Jay and his family played you. They know you want to be a cop. They got you to pretend that you are one. They got you to run around and taint witnesses. Jay came up with the bull crap story ‘It wasn’t me, it was my brother dressed in my clothes,’ and you bought it. I warned you. You should’ve listened to your head and looked at the facts. The facts say Jay Martin killed Stacy Shaw. I believe them. You should too. You got played, kid.”

  Jack’s head spun.

  “You’re a good guy, Jack. You meant well. But this isn’t your job; it’s mine. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

  Jack nodded. His chest felt as if a boa constrictor was crushing it. “Yes, sir.” He hung his head.

  Clark moved closer. “Listen, I won’t let this screw up the Army. I’ll run interference with Detective Vargas. But I need you to stay the hell out of this now. Putting your old man on you is the only way I know to keep you away.”

  Jack stared at his feet. He’d gotten it wrong. He didn’t just feel foolish—he felt worthless.

  On top of that, now he had to deal with his father.

  28

  Trouble

  Jack watched his dad pace back and forth across the kitchen floor. For the past ten minutes that was all he had done—pace. Detective Clark had told his father everything outside the police station. Jack had repeated it in the car. Now all Jack could do was wait.

  His mother sat at the other end of the kitchen table. Once again the Stratton family kitchen resembled a courtroom more than a dining area. It was a too-familiar situation for them all, because of their wild, quick-to-anger, high-maintenance, impetuous, rebellious son, Jack. Ted was the judge, ready to lower the boom, while Laura acted as the defense attorney begging for mercy for her client, who sat silently on the witness stand.

  Ted took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses, staring at the floor. When he finally looked up, he didn’t try to hide his disappointment.

  “Jack, I’m unhappy with your decisions on many levels. And the worst part is that you put Chandler’s future in jeopardy.”

  “What? I never said Chandler was there.”

  Ted leveled his gaze at Jack. “You didn’t have to. Thick as thieves. If you’re around, I just need to look for his shadow.” He sighed. “Chandler needs that tuition reimbursement program. I can’t believe you’d risk that for him.”

  “But Dad—”

  “You should have come to me. You’re still under this roof, even if you just turned eighteen.”

  Jack tried to stifle his groan.

  “Your mother got a cake. She made a special dinner that’s now sitting in the refrigerator—”

  “I didn’t
want anything. I hate this cursed, rotten, worthless day.”

  “We don’t usually see things from polar opposite positions, but you must know that to me and your mom, this is a very blessed day.”

  “I know. I just don’t see it that way. I think about today and I just see her walking away from me. She wouldn’t even turn around.”

  “Is that the reason why you’ve been acting like this? Are you trying to prove your worth by solving this crime?”

  Jack rubbed the back of his fist with his other thumb. What could he say? He wasn’t trying to prove that he wasn’t trash because he was trash. He hated the fact but he accepted it.

  “Maybe you need to stop looking at yourself that way. You’re looking back. You’re watching her, and your past. Turn around, and you’ll see all the people waiting for you—Aunt Haddie, Chandler, Michelle, your mom. Looking forward might be a lot less painful.”

  Jack stared at the floor. He knew his father was right, and he could jeopardize his future trying to change the past.

  “What concerns me are your decisions,” his father continued. “You had many other options. You could have come to me, your mother, Detective Clark—”

  “I went to Clark and he finked me out.”

  “He didn’t. He had an obligation to tell his superiors and to call me. He should have, and he did. That was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to, but he did it.”

  “That’s my argument, Dad. I didn’t want to help Jay. I don’t like him. But it was the right thing to do. So I did it.”

  “But you had other options. You went at it all wrong.”

  “What other options? I went to Clark, but the cops weren’t doing…I didn’t think the police were doing anything.”

  “But they were.”

  These words had finality; they hung in the air and shot down any argument Jack could think of. He put his head in his hands.

  Ted felt for his wallet in his pocket. “I need to get ready for night school. We’ll finish this discussion when I come home.”

  He kissed Laura, then picked up his wallet and keys from the table and marched across the kitchen. He hesitated at the door. “I love you both.” He didn’t look back.