J-Dog’s dead if he had anything to do with a missing lady.
Jack glanced back at the musclehead seated four sections away. He wouldn’t want to fight the monster in an open field with a bat, let alone in a concrete cell. And that super mutant was just one of many in here who would want a piece of J-Dog.
Jack shuddered.
Mrs. Martin folded her hands in her lap. She stared at her son. Her shoulders pulled back and she lifted her chin. When she spoke, she did so deliberately. “Your father would want you to tell the police the truth.”
J-Dog shut his eyes and shook his head.
Mrs. Martin sat motionless. She said nothing.
“Momma, I didn’t have anything to do with that missing lady. I swear it on Daddy’s grave.”
J-Dog’s oath slammed into Jack. J-Dog loved his father. In fact, Jack had been jealous of their relationship when they were kids. J-Dog had followed his father everywhere; he was Jay’s hero. They had a falling out when J-Dog was a teenager and got in trouble with the law, but when his father died, J-Dog was inconsolable.
“I believe you.” Mrs. Martin looked around the room. “I just don’t know what to do.” She rubbed the back of one hand with the thumb of the other. She took a deep breath. “Jay, there’s something else. Tommy hasn’t come home since you were arrested.” Her slumped shoulders bent even more. “He hasn’t even called. I phoned his girlfriend, but Nina hasn’t seen him.” She looked up at Jay. “Do you know where he could be?”
J-Dog leaned back. His initial look of confusion was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. “Momma, don’t look for Tommy.”
“What?”
“I need you to leave Tommy alone. Leave him be.”
“Why?”
“You just do. Don’t stir up the pot.”
“I can’t. I’m his mother.” Mrs. Martin looked distraught. “Maybe I should file a missing person report?”
“Time.” A guard strutted forward.
J-Dog jumped up. “Tommy’s fine, wherever he is. Don’t get the police involved.”
The guard stepped forward.
“Where’s Tommy? Is Tommy in trouble? Jay? Jay?”
J-Dog stepped back. “Just take care of yourself.”
“Jay?” Mrs. Martin called out as she touched the window. “I’ll get you help.”
J-Dog looked at his mother. In his eyes, a brief flicker of optimism rose, but it was quickly extinguished, and in the ashes all that remained was hopelessness.
As J-Dog was escorted from the room, Aunt Haddie stepped forward and wrapped her arm around Mrs. Martin’s shoulders. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
An impatient-looking guard opened the door for the three of them, and they headed back the way they came. Jack felt like a diver who’d stayed underwater too long and his oxygen was running out. He wanted to sprint for the exit. But he kept the slow and steady pace set by the women.
When the fresh air outside finally hit his face, Jack drank his fill. He flexed his hands and stretched. Just the atmosphere of the prison had felt crushing, and now he was free. But he could see that the change brought no comfort to Mrs. Martin. In fact, it seemed to have had the opposite effect. She was breathing so heavily, Jack worried she was going to hyperventilate.
Aunt Haddie stopped. “It’s all right, Charlotte. Everything will be all right.”
Mrs. Martin covered her face with her hands. “Did you hear him? Why would Jay say that? Did you hear what he said?”
“What, Charlotte?”
“Not to look for Tommy. That’s not like him.” She shook her head. “Where is Tommy? I’m so worried about him, Haddie. Maybe he’s thinking of doing something foolish? He’d do anything for Jay.”
Aunt Haddie rubbed her friend’s back. “I’m sure Tommy will show up.”
“But I don’t know where else to look.” Mrs. Martin’s hand shot out and grabbed Jack’s wrist. “You’re his friend, Jackie. You grew up with my boys.” Her grip was tight. Her eyes pleaded. “Please, Jackie. Please find Tommy.”
“I’d like to, Mrs. Martin, but I don’t know where he would go.”
“You know his friends. You can find him.”
“I don’t even know where to start looking.”
Mrs. Martin stared up at him. “You’re smart. You’ll think of something.”
Jack looked at Aunt Haddie and then into Mrs. Martin’s big brown eyes, filled with tears. “I’ll try,” he said.
8
The Game
After dropping off Aunt Haddie and Mrs. Martin, Jack drove straight to Kelly’s. There were so many expensive cars lining her long driveway, he had to park right down at the end. It looked more like the opening of a swanky, upscale restaurant than a family barbecue. As he walked up the driveway, Jack glanced back over his shoulder at his Impala. All the other vehicles— BMWs, Audis, and Mercedes sparkling in the afternoon sun—looked like they had just come off a dealership’s lot. Jack’s car was as out of place as a football player in a ballet.
Remembering one of Aunt Haddie’s lessons, Jack stiffened his backbone. Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are.
Kelly and a girl with sandy hair walked down the driveway to Jack. Kelly stopped only inches away. She clasped both hands behind her back and rose up on her toes. “Hey.” Her cherry-red lips spread into a warm smile.
Jack grinned back. “Sorry I’m late.” He offered his hand to Kelly’s friend. “Jack Stratton.”
Kelly introduced her. “This is Courtney.”
Courtney eyed Jack up and down. “You’re a brave man.”
Kelly shot her a look, then turned to Jack. “I tried to call and warn you.”
“I wasn’t home. I had to visit someone in prison.”
Courtney’s eyes widened. Kelly’s expression was a mix of shock and excitement. Courtney mouthed, Bad boy, but Jack pretended not to notice.
“I should have known something was up when my father gave in too easily,” Kelly said. “My dad had my older brother invite some of his friends.”
“That’s fine. Let’s go say hi,” Jack suggested.
Kelly hesitated.
“Is there something else?”
Kelly twisted back and forth. “My ex is here too. He’s friends with my brother.”
This just keeps getting better.
Jack hid his apprehension with a smile. He leaned closer and whispered, “You’re the only one I care about seeing.”
“We don’t have to go,” Kelly said.
A crooked grin crossed Jack’s face. “It’ll be fun.”
The three of them walked up the driveway and around the side of the house. Jack held open the gate to the back yard and let Kelly and Courtney through. Kelly took his hand.
The back yard was huge—and beautiful. It appeared as if a ground crew had spent days working on it. The grass was green, lush, and meticulously edged, bushes were shaped and trimmed, and the flowers were in full bloom in carefully arranged beds of fresh wood chips. A tall gazebo sat nestled under twin Japanese maples. In the center, a large white marquee sheltered rows of tables with folding chairs. Behind that, an in-ground pool that was twice the size of a standard one glistened an aquamarine blue. A few dozen people milled about.
Mrs. Dawson noticed them and hurried over. She smiled warmly, but there was a tightness around her eyes. “Jack. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you very much for inviting me. It’s a beautiful day for a barbecue.”
“It is. Have you been enjoying it?”
“No, I just got here. I was…” Jack cleared his throat. “I was sort of trapped inside all morning.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. “It’s such a beautiful day, you feel like a prisoner being inside on a day like this.”
“You can say that again. Is your husband here?” Jack asked. “I’d like to thank him for the invitation.”
Mrs. Dawson considered for a moment. Jack had the distinct impression she was deciding whether she should try to talk him out of that co
urse of action.
Jack waited confidently.
Mrs. Dawson waved her hand toward the house. “He’s up there.” The tight smile on her lips conveyed to Jack that this was a meeting she really didn’t want to happen.
Mr. Dawson stood on the top step of a slate-covered patio like a king in command of his court. He had a cocktail in one hand and gestured expressively with the other at eight men on the steps below him, all listening attentively. When he joked, they all laughed at once, as if on cue. When he paused, they nodded with introspection. And when he started to speak again, they smiled and looked on with rapt attention. It was a puppet court, and Mr. Dawson was the one pulling the strings.
Jack’s back tightened as he strode across the grass. As he came close, the conversation on the steps abruptly stopped. Clearly there was some invisible barrier between these men and everyone else—and Jack had just shattered it. Silence descended on the group. Even a nearby dog stopped running around and watched.
Jack marched up to Mr. Dawson, smiled, and held out his hand. “Thank you for the invitation, sir.”
The ice cubes in Mr. Dawson’s drink clinked against the glass. Jack hadn’t waited for the king to call, a clear breach of etiquette that had caught Mr. Dawson off guard. A forced smile spread across the man’s face. He gripped Jack’s hand. “Glad you could make it.” He turned toward the other men. “This is an acquaintance of my daughter. Jack…?”
“Stratton. Jack Stratton.” Jack briefly met the men’s vacant stares. “Thanks again.” He nodded at Mr. Dawson, and then, while still in charge, he turned to go.
Mr. Dawson’s lips twitched. Jack wondered how much the loss of control bothered him. Mr. Dawson was used to running companies and manipulating people. He called, they came—and they stayed until he said that they were allowed to go. That was how everyone in his world operated.
But not Jack.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed the side glances of the other men as he walked at a controlled pace back across the yard. The brief greeting had gone just how Jack had wanted. In, “thank you,” and out. Nice, quick, and polite.
Jack felt like a pirate king as he strode under the white marquee where Kelly was waiting for him. Courtney, next to Kelly, whispered something to her, and Kelly’s eyes widened. Then they both broke into a giggle.
“I’d sure like to know what you just said,” Jack said to Courtney.
“I was just thinking aloud.” Courtney crossed her arms. “You must have—”
“Courtney!” Kelly gasped.
“I was kidding!” Courtney grinned impishly.
Kelly took Jack’s hand. “Let’s get a drink.”
Jack headed over to a table covered with assorted bottles and drinks and poured himself a glass of iced tea.
“That was impressive.” Kelly fixed herself a drink. “My father’s about as approachable as a porcupine. Thank you for doing it.” She swirled the soda in her glass and looked up at him through her lashes. “Do you have plans for Friday night?”
“What’s the matter with tonight?”
She lit up, then huffed. “I have to go out with my mom.”
“Then Friday night it is.” Jack lowered his voice and his glass. “Now that we have the uncomfortable part behind us, how about we head over to…” Jack trailed off when Kelly’s startled gaze shifted to something behind him.
Jack turned to face three guys walking up. Tall, blond, fit, and well groomed, they looked like clones, all made from the same mold.
“Preston,” said the one in the red polo shirt. He stuck out his hand. “So you’re my baby sister’s new boyfriend?” He squeezed Jack’s hand, hard.
Jack just grinned.
Preston tilted his head toward his companions. “These are my friends, Warner and Archer.”
Jack had to fight off a smirk when he looked down at Warner’s and Archer’s distressed jeans. Both pairs were identical in their factory-made imperfections. Jack chuckled to himself. It says a lot about a guy if he has to pay to have someone break in his pants for him.
Warner’s eyes shifted between Jack and Kelly. His thin lips were pressed into a slight sneer as he ogled Kelly.
Jack stepped forward. “Nice to meet you.”
Warner tipped his head back slightly, and his small blue eyes stared down his angular nose at Jack. “Jack, huh?” He tried to crush Jack’s hand as he shook it.
Jack took an immediate dislike to the guy. “That’s me.” Jack tightened his grip.
Warner winced and let go.
Archer, the shortest of the group, just nodded casually at Jack. He appeared a little uninterested in the entire interaction.
Preston eyed Jack as he put his drink down on a table. “We’re having a little touch football game in a minute, in the field across the street. We’re one guy short. Care to help us out?”
“We were just about to take off,” Kelly said.
“No, you’re not,” Preston said. “You’re going out with Mom after.”
“It’s only light contact,” Warner said. “If you’re worried, we can go easy.”
Jack looked at Kelly. “Do you mind?”
Kelly gave him a you-don’t-know-what-you’re-getting-yourself-into look, but reluctantly she nodded.
“Then I’m up for a game,” Jack said.
Warner stepped on Archer’s foot.
“You can be on my side, Jack,” Archer offered quickly.
As the boys and Kelly walked down the driveway, a group of five of Kelly’s girlfriends followed behind. Jack could only catch bits and pieces of their conversation, but it all focused on one thing: him. They seemed to have come to a universal consensus that he was making a mistake by even playing the game.
When they reached the large grassy field across the street from her house, Jack handed Kelly his wallet and keys. “So, which one’s your old boyfriend?”
Kelly looked a little embarrassed. “Warner.”
Jack winked and then turned back to the field. In addition to the three guys he’d met, a few other boys had gathered—not all of them blond, Jack noted, but all carrying themselves with the same air of well-bred superiority. Archer waved him over. As Jack jogged across the grass, Preston and Warner exchanged a look that Jack was sure they didn’t think he picked up on.
“As you can see, it’s four on four. Light contact,” Archer explained, once they had broken into teams. “I’m usually quarterback, but if you want to…?” He held a hand out to Jack.
Jack shook his head. “No, thanks.”
They lined up, and for the next hour, Jack had to put up with being tackled, bashed, elbowed, and stepped on. Jack couldn’t fail to notice that his teammates were setting him up to take a beating—they stopped or even stepped aside when they should have blocked for him, leaving Jack an easy target. Warner hit the hardest. They tried to make their cheap shots look accidental, and of course they went out of their way to be polite in front of the genteel onlookers by helping Jack off the ground each time they knocked him down.
Getting sick of the harassment, Jack gave as good as he got. On one play Preston elbowed him in the face, and on the next play Jack “accidentally” kneed him in the thigh. Warner stomped on Jack’s ankle, and Jack just happened to hit him in the solar plexus.
A couple of plays later, Jack was just getting up from a hard tackle from Preston when Warner blindsided him and slammed into Jack’s back. Jack crashed to the dirt. Preston immediately offered him a hand up and a smug smile.
Jack’s hands balled into fists.
A shrill whistle cut through the air. Kelly ran forward, a bright-pink whistle between her teeth and a big glass of lemonade in her hand. “Refreshment timeout!” she called, bringing the glass to Jack.
“We’re in the middle of a game,” Preston whined.
“You can take a break.” Kelly took Jack by the hand and led him off the field. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks for the drink. And the timeout.”
Ke
lly held up the whistle. “Cheerleading.” She flicked some dirt off Jack’s shoulder. “Sorry. Those guys are jerks. You can stop.”
Courtney ran up with her phone in her hand. “Move together.”
“Will you stop taking pictures?” Kelly said.
Courtney pouted. “I have nothing on my Facebook wall. You got all dressed up and you two are adorable.”
Kelly slid close to Jack.
Three photos later, Courtney winked and put her phone away in her back pocket with the fluid motion of a samurai sheathing his sword.
“Come on, Kelly!” Preston yelled. “Let him get back to the game.”
Jack finished the lemonade in one gulp. “Thank you.” As he handed Kelly the glass, he stared at Courtney. “Where are you posting that?”
“Facebook. I put everything on my page.”
“Wait a minute,” Jack muttered. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” Kelly asked, confused.
“Come on, Stratton!” Warner called. “Or are you wimping out?”
Jack ignored him and spoke to Kelly. “I just thought of something. I have to go.”
“Now?”
Jack looked back to Preston. He hated to leave in the middle of a fight. “I gotta take off,” he yelled.
The guys on the field jeered. Warner was the loudest.
Kelly took Jack’s hand as he headed for the Impala. “Are you okay?” Her blue eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed.
“I’m good. A friend of mine needs help. You’re cool with that?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry about those guys.”
“It has nothing to do with them. I don’t care what they think.”
“Neither do I.” Kelly handed Jack his wallet and keys.
He tossed the keys up in the air, then caught them again with a loud jingle. “Are we on for Friday night?”
“Yes.” She kissed him. It was a quick kiss, but long enough for her fingertips to brush down his forearm as lightly as a snowflake.
“Wow.”
She smiled.
As Jack climbed into the driver’s seat, he had to grind his teeth together to keep from groaning in pain in front of Kelly.
The group of guys came jogging over together in a pack. “Hey, Jack,” Preston called out. “Now that you know how we play, next game we can go a little harder.”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 9
