GIRL JACKED (Crime and Punishment Mystery Thriller Series)

by Christopher Greyson

  Replacement, wrapped up in Jack’s arms, strained like a dog on a leash. It was clear she wanted another chance to pound Gina.

  “You want at her, girl?” Jack looked down at her. She gave one quick, fierce nod. “Go get her then.” He released Replacement from his arms.

  Gina shrieked and ran for the door. Replacement nearly caught her but Gina’s salvation came when Replacement slipped in the spilled soda. Replacement caught herself by grabbing the doorframe. Gina fled down the hallway. How Gina could run so fast in four-inch high heels was impressive.

  “Wench!” Replacement shouted at the top of her lungs as she prepared to continue the chase after her fleeing prey.

  Jack dashed over, yanked her back into the apartment, and shut the door.

  For a little thing, she sure was loud.

  “What’s wrong with you? Quiet down.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to look at her. “It’s nearly three in the morning. My landlady is going to take my head off. First, you sneak into my apartment—”

  “I didn’t sneak,” Replacement snapped as she tried to adjust her dress.

  Jack’s finely tuned BS detector went off. “Gina let you in?”

  “No…but…”

  “But what? Why would you break in to my apartment and take a shower?” Jack looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

  “The apartment was open. It wasn’t locked, and I’d waited for hours in your stupid stairwell. On the way here, I got caught in that downpour, and got soaked. I sat out there freezing. I didn’t think you’d mind,” she huffed.

  “Mind? I don’t even remember you.”

  Her expression was sad for a brief second. Then she shook her head and returned to glaring. “Well, thanks a lot, you friggin’ jerk.” She shoved him again.

  He’d hurt her and felt sorry. Jack tried to backpedal. “What I meant is that you’ve changed so much and…you were young and—”

  “Whatever.” She held up her hand.

  Jack continued to feel bad until he made a quick mental list: Gina’s furious and took off, my landlady blew a fat gasket, and a minute ago this girl was in my face.

  Jack waited for more, but she just stood there and stared at him.

  Damn.

  He looked away. On the floor, he noticed the spilled soda and bags of food. He picked up the bags and took out a loaf of bread and some sliced chicken. “Hungry?”

  She just stared at him.

  He shrugged, and then went to make sandwiches for both of them. He offered her one, and then went and sat on his old green couch. He looked over at the mess. I should clean up the soda before it turns into a goo-stain. Why didn’t Gina ever get bottles? She always got the paper cups. Jack smiled. She likes straws.

  Replacement chomped a massive bite from her sandwich as she spoke. “You’re not going after her?”

  He barely understood what she said. “She’ll go to her friend’s house. Whoever that is. I got a hunch that we’re done.”

  “Great.” Replacement moved to sit next to him. He didn’t argue; he just took another bite of his sandwich. “She flipped out when she came home and found me in the shower.”

  Jack nodded.

  “I tried to tell her who I was, but she went a little wacko.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Jack muttered.

  He watched Replacement from the corner of his eye. She acted young for a nineteen year old, but she still had the same impish grin. It had been so long since he’d last seen her, and he thought of how many things had changed since then.

  They ate in silence and then stared at the wall for a few minutes. It was funny that it didn’t feel awkward.

  Jack got up and suppressed a groan. His back was still a little sore from flipping the lumberjack. He threw the paper plates into the trash, looked at the clock—2:57 a.m.—and then glanced out the window.

  It’s snowing.

  “You got a ride home or do you want to crash here?” He yawned and stretched.

  Replacement’s face lit up as if she’d hit the lottery. “The couch is fine.” She bounced up and down with her hands spread out.

  “We’ll go out to the college in the morning.” Jack walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

  He lay in bed for almost an hour, unable to sleep. Worse still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Michelle.

  If she isn’t in California, this isn’t going to be good. The police would have checked the hospitals…morgue.

  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he tried to force those thoughts from his head.

  Think about something else. Think about something good about her.

  It wasn’t hard for Jack to remember. He thought about that memory often.

  Michelle had been twelve. While other kids were playing and having fun during summer break, she was hard at work babysitting, wiping up snot, and changing diapers. As each week passed, Chandler and Jack would guess what she was going to buy. The pile of money she had in her bureau had grown so large, the boys had gone from guessing a doll, to a dollhouse, to finally thinking that she had enough money to buy a pony.

  “I’m saving it for something special,” she’d said. “It’s something I’ve always wanted.”

  Near the end of summer, Jack had come back for a visit to Aunt Haddie’s for a sleepover. When he’d arrived, he noticed the house was dark except for a few candles lit here and there.

  “What’s going on?” Jack asked.

  Chandler pulled Jack outside. “Aunt Haddie’s work cut back on her hours this summer. They shut the electricity off and now she’s worried she doesn’t have enough money to pay the rent.”

  “Maybe we can help?” Jack suggested.

  “She’d never let us.” Chandler shrugged. “Anyways, I don’t have any money.”

  While the boys discussed ideas outside, they saw Michelle with a flashlight rummaging around Aunt Haddie’s bedroom closet. Jack wondered what she was doing.

  The next morning, Michelle woke them up. “I had a dream last night that we should look for extra change around the house.”

  Chandler yawned. “A little change isn’t going to pay the bills.”

  “Just do it.” Michelle pulled him out of bed.

  They started to search around the house, behind a desk, under the couch cushions—all over.

  “Aunt Haddie, you should check through your old pocketbooks in the closet,” Michelle suggested.

  A few minutes later, they heard her yell. “Hallelujah!”

  She ran out of the bedroom with a large wad of cash in her hands.

  Jack looked over at Michelle. She simply smiled. Jack never forgot the look on the old woman’s face as she leapt around the kitchen, holding up that money. All four of them had joined in dancing in a circle with Aunt Haddie calling out, “Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Jesus!”

  Jack asked Michelle about it later. “So where do you think that money came from?”

  “An angel put it there.”

  Jack couldn’t disagree.

  After he tossed and turned some more, he tried to concentrate and make a to-do list in his mind, but it was no use. He lay there feeling trapped at the gates of sleep. With a groan, he pulled the covers back, grabbed his sweatpants, and headed to the kitchen for some water. When he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped short. It was spotless. Replacement must have cleaned up the spilled soda, and cleaned the whole place up.

  He looked over at her curled up on the couch, asleep. She clutched the blanket tightly around herself. She looked cute. It bothered him he couldn’t remember her real name. What did Aunt Haddie call her?

  He looked back at the clean kitchen and smiled. He went into his bedroom and then returned with the comforter from his bed.

  He unrolled the thick comforter. Gina had thought his old army-green blanket was too scraggly, so she’d gone shopping one weekend and had picked this out for him as a present. It was super girly—purple and white with pink flowers. He shook his head. It looked utterly ridicu
lous, but it was incredibly warm.

  Gently, he laid it over Replacement. Her eyes fluttered open. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He watched her snuggle into its warmth. Jack started to walk away but he knew he’d never get any sleep unless he got it off his chest. “Seriously, kid, why are you so angry with me for not coming to visit?”

  She slowly opened her eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

  He’d regretted asking the question as soon as it left his mouth, but still he nodded.

  “When you and Chandler turned eighteen and went off to Iraq, everything changed at Aunt Haddie’s. Chandler was gone. I was ten. Michelle was sixteen. Before, if there was a problem, Chandler always fixed it. He was like Superman. If stuff broke or something went wrong, he was there. But if he couldn’t fix it, he’d call you.” Her eyes searched his face. “Do you get it?”

  Jack shrugged. “He’s Superman. I get that. But—”

  “If something happened that Chandler couldn’t handle, you’d show up and take care of it. Chandler would just pick up the phone, you’d come, and everything would be okay. To me, you were like Batman. When Chandler died, we didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking you’d come back. You’d come back and fix it.”

  What the hell did she want me to say? She doesn’t get it. Chandler really was Superman, but I’m no Batman. I was like stupid Jimmy Olson following him around.

  Jack’s shoulders slumped. He waited there silently, unable to defend his actions. He knew what happened in Iraq, but she didn’t.

  As she lay there, her eyes told the story. “You didn’t come back. You didn’t even try.” Her voice cracked. She rolled over and buried her head in the comforter.

  Jack swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  The comforter moved up and down when she nodded.

  Jack walked back into the bedroom, shut the door, and closed his eyes.

  She thinks I’m a superhero. She doesn’t understand. I’m no hero. I’m the guy who killed Superman.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Fish Out of Water Dance

  IRAQ

  Six Years Ago

  Jack adjusted his assault rifle and looked back across the dimly lit room to Chandler. Two other soldiers stood next to him. Chandler lifted the huge machine gun he carried and nodded. One of the other soldiers moved to stand behind Jack and to the left. Jack pushed the door open, and his gun snapped up. His eyes swept the room. The square interior had open cabinets against one wall and a table and chairs against the other. Rubbish littered the floor.

  Empty.

  In the middle of the back wall was another door. Jack held up his hand and made two quick gestures forward. He slipped silently into the room and carefully picked his way over the trash-strewn floor toward the other door.

  One more room.

  Jack reached the door and stood off to the side. He held up his hand and closed it into a fist. He looked back to Chandler. Chandler nodded. He pushed the door open.

  Jack’s eyes went wide. Canisters and gray sacks filled the room. They had all received a briefing on the possibility—phosphorus bombs.

  “MOVE!”

  The four soldiers sprinted back through the rooms they’d just cleared. Chandler shifted the massive gun in his arms. He knew that huge gun slowed Chandler down.

  “RUN!” Jack lost sight of the other two soldiers when he dropped instantly behind his friend. “CHANDLER, RUN.”

  “I AM.”

  “LOSE THE DAMN GUN.”

  Chandler tossed it aside.

  In under a minute, they made it to the front room where the other soldiers were frantically shoving against the now-closed door.

  “It’s jammed.” They pounded against the thick wood.

  “MOVE,” Jack commanded, and even Chandler got out of the way.

  Jack lowered his shoulder and hit the door as hard as he could. The door cracked, but didn’t open.

  Everyone started to yell.

  Do something, Jack, or we’re all gonna die.

  Chandler called out, “MOVE!”

  Jack turned to see Chandler charge across the room. He burst forward and rammed the door. The force of the impact moved the wall. The door held—but the frame didn’t. The wooden frame and chunks of concrete with the door still attached fell forward and landed in the dirt.

  The four soldiers scrambled out. They ran as the building behind them exploded.

  Jack looked back in terrified fascination. Flames shot out where the door had been. The flames looked like dragon’s breath. The fire was so hot it flicked blue and white before it wrapped together into red and yellow streams and floated skyward.

  Jack looked over at Chandler. He sat on the ground and watched in awe the building burn where they’d just been. Jack walked over and sat down next to him.

  “Thanks.” Jack’s voice was barely audible.

  Chandler nodded.

  Jack looked around and all of the other soldiers stared into the flames, mesmerized. They knew how close they had just come to a horrifying death.

  Jack stared straight ahead, as he spoke to Chandler. “You have to get faster.”

  “You have to get bigger.” He smiled. They laughed.

  Then Chandler pushed at Jack’s shoulder…

  Jack looked down, puzzled. Chandler’s hand had shrunk as he kept poking him in the shoulder. Slowly, Jack’s dreaming ended.

  Replacement pushed his shoulder again. “Are you getting up?”

  Half-dazed, Jack jumped back and almost fell off the bed. He sat upright. He couldn’t see clearly; he blinked and rubbed his eyes. “What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

  “Me? You’re the bum.” She hopped onto the bed and landed on her knees. She began to talk rapidly. “It’s seven o’clock. How late are you going to sleep? I thought you said you’d—”

  “Shut up.”

  “Help me. When are we going—”

  “Shut up.”

  “To do something about Michelle and not sleep all day. Do you always—”

  “SHUT UP,” he barked right in her face.

  The full blast roar would have made any soldier stand at attention. It didn’t seem to affect her. She just smiled. Jack shook his head.

  One thing’s for sure, she’s Chandler’s sister, all right.

  “Let me clean up, and then we can go,” he muttered.

  “We?” Her face lit up.

  He held up his hand. “Don’t say another word. Not a peep or we don’t go. Do you need a shower?”

  She shrugged and made a twisting motion in front of her lips as if she locked them.

  “Don’t be a punk. I’m taking a shower, then.” He headed for the bathroom.

  “You took a long shower last night, and now you need another? Do you sweat a lot in your sleep?” She made a face and wrinkled her nose.

  Jack stood there, blinking. This girl unquestionably could tick him off. “No,” he snapped back and swore under his breath as he headed for a quick shower.

  The warm water gave him the opportunity to clear his head, but he’d have loved a cup of coffee too. He doubted there was any in the house. It didn’t matter anyway because he hated it black and there was zero chance of there being any milk.

  Jack started to plan what he wanted to do first. He knew his first step normally would be to go to the investigator here in Darrington. He’d have been the one to check up on Michelle’s last known address at the college. Nevertheless, if he went to see Davenport, Sheriff Collins would have to be informed. That would lead to the inevitable disclosure that Michelle had been his foster sister. He knew department policy. Anything involving a family member was treated as a conflict of interest, and he wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near this end of the investigation. He knew the longer he stayed off the radar screen, the better. If he did get caught, he had a Get Out of Jail Free card he intended to play with by-the-book Collins. Michelle had been his foster sister, but technically, she was not a rel
ative—even if Jack viewed her that way.

  He also didn’t want Sheriff Collins to think he was grandstanding. The reason Jack transferred to Darrington County Sheriff Department was partly due to Sheriff Collins. He thought he’d worked well with the former Air Force captain. Instead, Collins had written Jack up before his first month on the job and then placed him on late-night traffic detail for ninety days. That was after Jack had stuck his nose in and solved a John Doe case.

  A hiker had found a partially decomposed body in the woods. Animals had eaten most of it and the John Doe’s head was missing, so dental records couldn’t be used in the investigation. It had been assigned to Detective Flynn, but he hadn’t followed through on the only real clue they had, which was the tattoo on the guy’s arm—crossed swords over a four-leaf clover. There had been nothing on it in the police database. Jack, on his own, had checked one local tattoo parlor after another until he’d come up with the name of the guy: Tommy O’Neil, a local with a drug problem.

  Instead of promoting him, Collins had blasted him up and down about grandstanding. The thing Collins hadn’t understood was Jack didn’t care about who got the credit—he had just wanted to help.

  Jack decided to start by checking at Michelle’s last address. She may have a roommate or a neighbor who she told where she was going. He hoped Michelle was safe and sound, lying on some beach in California.

  Because they were going to a college, he decided to dress the part. He shaved close and styled his hair. There were a few civilian shirts hanging in the closet, so he selected a navy blue casual collared pullover that was a little loose. Jack knew he was muscular and intimidating. He’d stayed in excellent shape since the Army. Still, he’d be dealing with young college girls and wanted to appear approachable. A nice pair of slacks and shoes completed the ensemble.

  While he appraised his appearance in the mirror, his smile faded. Is this what normal is? The man in the mirror appeared normal, and normal seemed so strange to Jack.

  Jack shook his head and returned to his mental checklist. It had holes.