“Uh-oh… This sounds like the beginning of a be-careful speech.”
“Well…”
“Dad, I’m good.”
“You’re a healthy young man going out with a girl. A be-careful speech is what’s needed. After all, you’re about to go into the Army, and I know you wouldn’t do anything to mess up that opportunity. But as your father, it’s my job to remind you that life is like dominoes.”
Jack groaned. “I thought it was like a box of chocolates but without the little map on the cover,” Jack joked. “So be careful or you’ll end up with a goopy-centered one that tastes like old licorice.”
His father gave him his quiet-down-and-listen teacher stare. After making sure he had Jack’s attention, he said, “Dominoes. You knock one down and the rest fall. Now, if you do well in the Army, you’ll go to college and move right into law enforcement. But one night’s bad actions and the dominoes could fall the other way. You need to think every choice through. Let’s just say you’re out and someone gets their hands on some booze.”
“Dad, I’m not going to—”
“Let’s just say. You have one drink and you get pulled over by the police. You’re underage. There goes the Army. That’s one domino. Without the Army, how are you going to afford college? That’s another domino. Now how are you going to get on the police force with no Army, no college, and a DUI on your record? See? One bad decision can bring the whole thing down.”
Jack nodded.
His father put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, why am I saying anything? You know all this. I’m sure you’ll be on your best behavior.”
“Okay.” His mother rushed back into the room. “Stand together.”
Jack stood with his father for one picture. Then his dad took the camera and his mom moved next to Jack. The camera flashed a few more times.
“Now that your mother’s made sure a record has been preserved for posterity,” Jack’s dad said, “you’re free to go.”
“Thanks.” Jack grabbed his keys. But as he headed for the door, Detective Clark’s face on the TV caught his attention. Jack’s dad liked to keep the TV on with the sound off. Jack quickly grabbed the remote off the couch and unmuted it.
“Is that Detective Clark?” his dad asked.
“Yeah. I saw him at the park this afternoon. He said to say hi.” Jack turned up the volume.
On the television, a young female reporter sat at the news desk. On a graphic beside her was a photo of a smiling Stacy Shaw. “Fairfield Police are asking for the public’s assistance in locating a missing woman thought to be in danger. Her name is Stacy Shaw. We join Channel 5’s Paula Thompson reporting live from police headquarters.”
The camera cut to a young brunette reporter holding a microphone. “Thank you, Anne. I’m told that there will be an announcement momentarily.”
The shot switched back to the news desk. “Paula, given the amount of police involvement, do they suspect foul play?”
“Well, if they do, they’re not saying. All they will say is that Mrs. Shaw has a medical condition and that it’s imperative she be located as soon as possible.” She glanced behind her. “Hold on, I think they’re entering now.”
The camera panned to a doorway in the back of the room, from which a man in a gray suit emerged. He was short and barrel-chested and looked like a drill instructor who’d become a civilian: buzz cut, neatly pressed suit, tan skin, dark brown eyes.
“That’s the new detective, Lyle Vargas,” Jack’s dad said. “You’d like him, Jack. He’s ex-Army.”
Detective Vargas was followed by a man and a woman, both of whom were visibly distraught. The man’s sandy-colored hair was mussed and his face was contorted in anguish. The woman next to him looked like a younger, female version of him—perhaps a sister.
Detective Vargas strode up to a podium and immediately began speaking. “I’m Detective Vargas of the Fairfield Police.” He nodded to the gathered reporters. “Thank you for assembling on such short notice. I appreciate your help in getting the word out to our communities.” He cleared his throat. “By now you’ve all been informed of the disappearance of Stacy Shaw. Her abandoned car was found at Ford’s Crossing, where it went off the road and struck a tree. Stacy may be injured and disoriented and in need of medical assistance. Stacy is a diabetic and may have suffered an episode before the incident. Under these circumstances, it’s imperative that we locate Stacy as soon as possible. I’m here to ask for the public’s assistance. If you have any information about the whereabouts of Stacy, please contact the police immediately.”
“He really should refer to her as Mrs. Shaw,” Jack’s mom said.
“I read that they do that on purpose,” Jack said. “They use her first name, in case something else happened to her.”
“What do you mean?” His mother looked upset.
“In case she’s been kidnapped and her abductors are watching the press conference, they use the victim’s first name over and over to try to humanize her.”
Jack’s mom fiddled with her cross necklace.
“Detective Vargas.” A reporter stepped forward. “Given the rapid escalation of responders, do you suspect that there’s more to this than that she simply wandered off? Do you suspect foul play?”
“No,” said Vargas. “Right now this is strictly a missing person case.” He moved to the side and motioned the man forward. “Stacy’s husband, Michael Shaw, who has been cooperating in the search, would like to make a statement for the family.”
Michael Shaw stepped up to the podium and spoke directly into the camera. “My wife…” His voice broke. “My wife is missing, and I want to ask anyone who may have seen her,” he held up a framed photo, “to call the police. We love Stacy and… and she’s…” He broke down crying.
The woman next to him wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“I hope she’s all right,” Jack’s father said.
“That poor family,” Jack’s mother said. Her husband put his arm around her. The clock on the mantel chimed.
“I’ve got to jet!” Jack hurried to the door. “I’m super late.”
“Don’t speed.” His mother rushed over and straightened his collar. “Have fun.”
As Jack ran for the Impala, his father called after him, “But not too much fun!”
5
The Haves and the Have-Nots
As he rolled up the long, circular driveway to the front of the Dawsons’ sprawling home, Jack double-checked the address. The two-story, brick-faced house was located on the highest point in Knob Hill, one of the poshest neighborhoods in Fairfield. Jack looked at the shiny Mercedes and BMW parked in the driveway and his hand hesitated on the car key.
Then he glanced at the clock. 6:14 p.m.
“Crud,” he muttered.
Jack grabbed the flowers, got out of the car, and jogged up the granite steps to the massive oak front door. The whole entranceway seemed to exude wealth, and Jack suddenly felt small. He exhaled and tried to gather himself. Then he reached out for the doorbell—but before he could press it, the front door whipped open.
It was Kelly Dawson—and she was beautiful. In designer jeans and a pink top with matching lipstick, she looked like she had just stepped off the cover of a teen fashion magazine. The hallway chandelier behind her sparkled like flashbulbs on the red carpet.
In Jack’s mind, the tall, blond cheerleader belonged on a pedestal. For a moment he could only stand there, blinking.
When he was able to breathe again, he mumbled, “Wow. You’re gorgeous.”
Kelly beamed. “Thank you.”
“Seriously, you belong on a runway, not a doorway.”
She chuckled. “I had help. My mom and I had a girls’ day out to get me ready. Do you like?” She twisted back and forth.
“A day?” Jack blurted out. “A date with me is that special?”
Kelly blushed.
Jack held out the mixed bouquet, and Kelly took it.
“Thank you.” She lightly
touched the tops of the petals.
“You’re welcome.” 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. The resemblance left Jack with no doubt that she was Kelly’s mother. She placed a slender hand on Kelly’s shoulder while extending the other out to Jack. “You must be Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Kelly?” a man’s 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 on the tile floor, and then Mr. Dawson strutted around the corner and up to the doorway with his phone in his hand. Even with Jack standing 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. Mr. Dawson’s arm shot out, and he squeezed Jack’s hand—hard.
Jack didn’t flinch. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Jack Stratton.”
Mr. Dawson nodded politely. “So you are.” He eyed Jack up and down. “Where are you two headed?”
“Bowling. It’s a double date.”
“That sounds fun. With whom?” Mrs. Dawson 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.”
“What school is that?” asked Mr. Dawson.
Kelly jumped. “Oh, look at the time.” She tsked. “I forgot to tell you that we have to leave early. I don’t want to miss our reservation.” She quickly kissed her father on the cheek and then pressed the flowers into her mother’s hands.
Mr. Dawson opened his mouth to say something more, but Kelly grabbed Jack by the hand and hurried down the steps.
“Don’t be late.” Mrs. Dawson’s voice was noticeably strained.
“I won’t.” Kelly gave her parents an over-the-shoulder wave.
Jack opened the passenger door for her, then hurried to the driver’s seat. Kelly’s parents stood on the top step, watching them. Mr. Dawson didn’t look pleased.
Jack struggled to get the keys out of his pocket, while Kelly glanced back toward her parents. When her father started to walk down the steps, she whispered, “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 Jack’s haste to get going, his foot jammed the gas pedal down to the floor. A mistake, as the Impala’s gas pedal was so sensitive that the difference between going 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 into her seat. Jack quickly tapped the brakes, and she jerked forward like a cowboy on a mad bull.
Mortified, Jack muttered an apology. “Sorry.” He managed a more normal speed, then, once clear of the driveway, he sped back up.
Kelly laughed. “Don’t be. That sucked all around.”
“I take it your parents don’t bowl?”
“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.”
“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 that I went to Fairfield High?”
She sat up straight. “I’m not my father.”
There seemed to be seventeen years of frustration crammed into that one sentence.
“That’s good.” Jack gave her a little wink. “It’d be kinda weird if I was taking him bowling.”
His joke broke through the awkward moment. She gave him a half smile and leaned back in the seat. “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 passenger-side 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.
Instead, Kelly checked her reflection in the window beside her. After fanning out her hair and straightening her blouse, she turned back to Jack. “How do I look?” Her eyes moved rapidly as she searched his face.
Jack casually stretched his arm across the seat back. “I’m glad the seats are fireproof.” He patted the fabric. “You look so hot my car would have burst into flames.”
“That line is so over the top.” She lifted her chin in a wide arc, but Jack could tell she liked it.
Kelly sat back, and her body relaxed. At first, she’d carried herself as if she were a model on display, but the more they talked, the more her stiffness eased.
As they rode through town to Aunt Haddie’s, the posh homes with sizable lots gave way to modest suburbia, and then to duplexes and tenements. The yards grew smaller and smaller until most had nothing but a sliver of grass. As Jack’s old, rundown neighborhood finally approached, Kelly shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “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 the little road and parked in front of the big two-story house. Aunt Haddie tried her best to keep the place fixed up, but that cost money she didn’t have. Jack looked at the mismatched windows and the door he and Chandler had picked up for free from the side of the road. He grinned. The house always made him smile. It may have been worn 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 shrugged as she stood up. “I didn’t think you were going to do that.”
“My dad drilled it into me.” Jack closed her door and offered her his hand.
“You don’t have to get my door.”
“I know.” Jack walked toward the house. “But I want to.”
“I have an English teacher who’d flip out if you got the door 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 guy watching that you’re with me and I think you’re special enough to treat you right. Call it whatever, but that’s why I do it.”
“Your dad sounds nice.”
“Best dad in the world, but don’t tell him I said that.”
She smiled.
Jack headed to the back door. A wooden staircase led up to a small porch. Through the brightly lit windows, he could see Aunt Haddie’s tidy kitchen. It was small, but Aunt Haddie ran it like the galley on a ship. 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.
Jack opened the door and started to go through first.
Kelly stopped on the landing. “Sorry.”
Jack paused. “For what?”
“Now you’re not getting the door for me. I kinda hoped you would.”
Jack stood with one foot insi
de and one outside. “I’ll still get the door for you. Like I said, it’s your choice if you want to go through. Right now, 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.
“I would.”
Jack led Kelly inside, through the kitchen and into a hallway, where a tall teenage girl was already coming their way.
“Jack!” The girl stopped short when she saw 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. “Hello. Who’s this?” Her greeting was poised, as if she’d been to finishing school. And she had been, in a way. Aunt Haddie was a stickler for good manners and instilled them in all the children who came under her care.
Jack grabbed Michelle around the shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Kelly, this is my sister, Michelle. Half-Pint, this is Kelly.”
Michelle wiggled an arm free. “It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled at Kelly as she elbowed Jack in the stomach. “I’m almost as big as you.”
“You’ll never be as big as me.” But Jack was no longer quite so sure of that as he used to be. Michelle was fifteen and she was already very tall.
Kelly smiled. “It’s nice meeting you too.”
“Why don’t you ever use the front door?” Chandler grumbled as he walked down the hallway with Makayla.
Kelly took a step closer to Jack.
“Chandler and Makayla, Kelly.”
“Hello.” Chandler’s enormous hand gently shook Kelly’s. “I’m Chandler, Jack’s brother.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Makayla wobbled her head back and forth. “You’re not starting that again.” She gave Chandler a lighthearted shove in the ribs.
“Who’s letting all the flies in?” A heavyset woman came through the open door behind them, laden with grocery bags. Aunt Haddie. She wore a simple blue and white dress with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. The energy that seemed to follow her into the room felt as though it could light a city block.
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 5
