Oblivion - Debt Collector 13 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t apprehensive about visiting Jack. It wasn’t as much the direct threat that came from making contact as it was the connection that could bring danger to his family. In the hours since he left, Karen had texted multiple times to say what she hadn’t in person. She was completely opposed to him going and asked him multiple times why he needed to get involved. He’d asked himself the same question. Jack hadn’t exactly made his life easy. Still, whether it was God, his association with Eddie or pity, he felt compelled to help him.

  Tail O’ The Pup was a roadside eatery offering BBQ chicken and ribs. When an Uber dropped Dalton off outside, he thought the place was closed as there were only two vehicles in the parking lot. Sure, the town had less than two thousand people but he expected it to be busier than this for a week day.

  Spotting him was easy enough. He was the only black man in the place. An older couple sat at the far back chomping on chicken wings while a disinterested waitress glanced at him as he entered. She looked as if she was about to say something before Pastor Boone raised a hand. Dalton smiled and threaded his way around a dozen tables to a booth on the far side. Boone was a large and imposing man, not in height but width. He extended a meaty paw and greeted him with a smile. “Glad you made it. How was your flight?”

  “Good.”

  He gestured for him to take a seat.

  Dalton glanced out the window and saw a flock of birds break away from a cluster of oaks that framed the parking lot. “Can I get you a drink?” a waitress said as she came over and handed him a menu.

  “Water with lemon is fine.”

  She looked unimpressed as she sauntered back behind the counter. Boone wore a jean shirt with a white V-neck T-shirt and khaki pants. His hair was short and tight, and had a few strands of silver at the temples.

  “Where are you staying?” Boone asked.

  “Just down the road. Moreno’s.”

  “Ah Moreno’s. Yeah, a nice place. You been up this way before?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Dalton replied as the waitress returned with an ice cold glass and set it in front of him. Drops of water trickled down the side. “The handful of vacations I’ve had the luxury of going on have all been on the West Coast. Though we did head to Colorado for a week a few years back.”

  “Colorado. Now that’s a place I’ve always wanted to go.”

  The small talk was awkward but he expected that. It soon shifted to Holbrook and the questions Boone had. “You know, in all the years of going into the hospital, never once have I heard from another pastor. Not many want to go in.”

  “How did you end up there?”

  “Got a call from the mother of a patient. She wanted me to visit her son. Said he wasn’t doing too well and felt that perhaps having a male figure, someone who could bring the Bible into the place, might help.”

  Dalton swallowed. “And did it?”

  “I’m running the chapel every Sunday. Have been in there for the past eight years. I’d say so.”

  “How responsive are they to the message?”

  “Initially? There were only a handful. Now it’s packed. Whether the message I bring makes sense to them is another thing entirely. But, it’s a foot in the door and the truth is most people have given up on them, that even goes for those who work there.”

  Dalton took another sip then rolled up his white shirtsleeves. “You ever get to speak with them one on one?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean outside of Sunday?”

  “Occasionally. It depends on the situation. Why, you know someone there?”

  “Yeah. Jack Winchester. Heard of him?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Always hear about the new ones. Quite the backstory. I was hoping he would be attending this Sunday but won’t know until then. What’s the connection?”

  “He used to work for the mission.”

  Boone smiled. “Ah. Right. That explains a lot.” He looked off towards the waitress who was scrubbing the counters. “So that whole story about wanting to donate and get into a hospital in California?”

  “That’s true.”

  Boone cocked his head. “Come on.”

  Dalton smiled and nodded slowly.

  “They won’t let anyone see him. Have you heard of that before?”

  Boone shrugged. Dalton was worried he would end the meeting. “It happens.” He nodded his head and looked down into his hands. “You just wanted to see him, right?”

  Dalton knew if he didn’t come clean right there and then, the window of opportunity might close. “You remember Christ said that it’s not the healthy that need a doctor but the sick. You ever met someone that you felt had been served a bad hand at the start of life?”

  “Where do I begin? I have a Rolodex full of them.”

  “You given up on any?” Dalton asked.

  “A few.”

  “Well, let’s put it this way. I’m here because I believe I can help him. I believe God wants me to help him. Now I understand if you want to get up and walk out and close the door but I’m just asking for a little help.”

  “I wouldn’t be much of a Christian if I did that, now would I?”

  He smiled. “I guess not.”

  Silence stretched between them while they placed their orders.

  “So why the hospital?” Dalton asked as he reached for cutlery, and the aroma of BBQ chicken filled his nostrils.

  “I was in one.”

  “A forensic hospital?”

  Boone nodded. “Yeah, back when I was eighteen I got caught up in drugs, like you do,” he said between bites of his food. “Anyway, I ended up going with a group of friends to New York for a weekend. Let’s say I don’t remember much about those three days except that when I came to from the drug-fueled haze I had broken someone’s arm, destroyed a house and held them captive until the cops broke in and tasered my ass.” He reached for a whole wheat bun and buttered it. “My lawyer said that I had a couple of options. Prison or do six months inside a mental hospital under the pretense that I wasn’t in my right state of mind, was having delusions about being someone else, and so on…”

  “Were you?”

  “Hell yeah,” he said. “I thought I was the reincarnation of Martin Luther King.”

  Dalton stifled a laugh.

  “No, go ahead. Laugh. I know I did after they got my levels right. Anyway I wound up in a unit. Six months turned into a year. I eventually got out and was able to pick up the pieces, make amends and turn my life around.”

  “So you now go in and help others.”

  “Ironic, right?”

  “Not exactly.” Dalton stopped eating. “Jack was a mobster. Grew up on the streets of New York. Abusive upbringing. Mother took off on him and his sister. He was surrounded by people who drew him into a way of life that few escape.” He reached for his drink and took a gulp. “He eventually wound up in jail, like most of them do. When he got out he was ready to put it behind him but you know how hard that can be.”

  Boone nodded.

  Dalton continued. “He did one last job for them, then met someone. A nice woman. A good woman. Helped him to see there was a chance to start again.”

  “And did he?”

  “For a while. Yeah. Then he was drawn back to New York by a man named Eddie Carmine. Not only was he Jack’s father but he’d had a relationship with my mother. It’s a long story but Eddie helped her escape an abusive relationship. I was sixteen at the time. Probably not that much older than Jack.”

  “Hence the connection.”

  “Yeah. After Eddie died, Jack came out looking for answers. The rest is history.”

  Boone scooped some more chicken into his mouth and chewed while his brow furrowed. “So how did he wind up in here?”

  “The woman I mentioned before. She went missing. He went searching for her and that’s all I know right now.”

  “He was accused of murdering a family.”

  “He didn’t do it.”


  “How can you be sure?”

  “Jack might have killed a lot of people in his time, some who may not have deserved it, but one thing he never did was harm a woman or child. It goes against who he is at the core. Whoever killed that family, is still out there; it wasn’t him.”

  “So you think someone set him up?”

  Dalton nodded. “I just don’t know who but I was hoping to speak to him.” He stopped eating. “Jack isn’t a saint, Mark, but he’s a lot like you and me. He wants to help. Just as we have our reasons to give our time to help others, he’s the same.”

  Boone took a deep breath. “The same? I dunno about that.”

  Dalton leaned back. “If it’s a problem just say it. I don’t want to put you in a tough spot.”

  “You already have. But… I know what it’s like to try to go to bat for someone. The first guy I went to see in the hospital asked if I would teach the Bible. I brought it to the powers that be and they refused. Back then there was no chapel and whoever was in charge was against any religious input. They felt it would only warp their minds.” He inhaled. “They said if I pursued it I could no longer visit that guy.”

  “So you pursued?”

  “Damn right I did.”

  They both smiled and continued eating their lunch. Once they were done and had paid the bill, Dalton stood outside expecting Boone to thank him for visiting but send him on his way. Instead, he directed him to his SUV. “Get in.”

  “Where we going?”

  “The hospital. You didn’t come all this way for nothing, did you?” He smiled and Dalton followed.

  Inside her room at the Evergreen Motel, Kelly finished up calling wreckers’ yards within a five-mile radius of Apalachin, New York. While minimal information had come out of the Lewis court case, one of the tidbits she’d picked up was that Winchester believed he’d been in an auto accident. In a town so small she didn’t think it would take long to confirm that. That was four months ago. She’d called every single wreckers’ yard in the area and none them had taken in a vehicle from an auto accident on the day of the Lewis murders. She’d even gone so far as to call towing companies but that gave her nothing.

  It also didn’t help that multiple calls to John Dalton were getting her nowhere. The secretary kept saying the same thing — he was out. She had a good mind to get Zach to travel up to the mission to see if he was around but that would mean having a conversation and right now he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

  Her frustration was getting the better of her when there was a knock at the door.

  She figured it was the owner of the motel as she’d complained that one of the air conditioning units wasn’t working and there was a pool of water soaking the carpet below it.

  It was far worse.

  Opening the door she was greeted by the sight of Zach grinning. He was wearing a navy suit with a black tie, and sunglasses. He’d shaved his mustache and smoothed back his unruly hair into a man bun. “Hello partner,” he said, brushing past her and looking around. “Geez Louise, Kelly. I know you’re cheap, darlin’, but you could have shelled out for something better than this.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked closing the door.

  “Vacation,” he said slumping down on the bed and bouncing up and down on it to check the springs.

  “But…?”

  He lifted a hand. “I couldn’t leave you here to figure this out all by yourself, now could I. After that email I got, I kind of figured you’d be wallowing in self-pity.” He leaned forward and pulled out two empty wine bottles from a garbage can. “And I was right.”

  She snatched them out of his hands. “Look. You can’t stay here.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it. I got a room next door.”

  “What?”

  “Well, the place isn’t busy.”

  “But you said you didn’t like it.”

  “The place, but the company…” He eyed her up and down. “Hard to resist.”

  “No. No. No! I’m calling Roger,” she said scooping up her phone.

  He kicked off his shoes and scrambled back on the bed and put his hands behind his head. “Go ahead, he approved my vacation time. Nothing he can do.”

  “Of course there is. You’re infringing upon my ability to do my job.”

  “What, like downing two bottles of pinot noir?”

  She scowled at him and put her phone down.

  “Ah, come on. You can’t deny our chemistry. Your brains, my brawn,” he said inching over to her with a wry expression.

  “You have got to be joking,” she said, heading for the door and opening it. “You want to vacation, be my guest, but I am not putting up with you.”

  “Why not? I can be useful.”

  “Useful. You’re about as useful as…” She stopped herself and then it dawned on her. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone. She closed the door and he smiled.

  “Ah. I see the look in your eye. I’m right, aren’t I?” he said beginning to unbutton his shirt.

  “Yeah. Yeah you are.”

  “I knew it. See, I knew you’d eventually come around to my way of thinking.”

  “You can be useful.”

  “Yep. You just wait until I show you what I can do with my—”

  She pressed a hand against his chest. “But you’re gonna need to keep the shirt on.”

  “What? Why?” he said, pausing and looking despondent.

  “Because you, buddy boy, are heading on a road trip, four hours southwest of here to the town of Apalachin.”

  “What?” His brow furrowed.

  “You wanted to be useful. I’ve got a job for you.”

  7

  After giving Dalton a tour of the chapel, Boone had asked to see Jack but was quickly shut down and told it wasn’t possible as there had been an incident, and Winchester had been temporarily transferred to Adirondack Health Hospital in Saranac Lake for evaluation.

  “Evaluation? For what?” Dalton asked with concern. “What happened to him?”

  “They didn’t say. Look, I wouldn’t worry, Dalton. These matters arise at times. They usually resolve themselves fairly quickly.”

  “So let’s go to Saranac Lake.”

  Boone groaned. “It’s not as easy as that. There is red tape. My leeway extends to Holbrook.”

  Dalton blew out his cheeks. “Well did they give you a timeline of when he might return?”

  “They didn’t say but if it’s serious it could be days, a couple of weeks, or longer.”

  “I don’t have a couple of weeks. I need to get back to L.A. soon,” Dalton said raising a hand to his head and sighing. Silence stretched between them and Dalton looked up at one of the stained-glass windows. The image of the cross and Christ stood out. Suffering. So many abandoned him in that time of fear. Jack wasn’t Christ but he had done a lot of good for others and was now suffering. As a friend, probably his only friend, this wasn’t the time to turn away. It certainly wasn’t something Jack would do. No, he rose to the occasion, came alive and thrived under stress and risk. Dalton needed to do the same.

  Boone took a few steps forward and lifted a hand. “Look, if you’re that worried, I can promise to check in on him and keep you updated.”

  “I appreciate that,” Dalton shot back. “But you don’t understand. Jack doesn’t open to just anyone. Guy is a closed book. No, I need to see him. Isn’t there something you can do?”

  “I’m not a miracle worker.”

  Dalton slumped into one of the chairs and continued looking at the colorful window. He hadn’t come this far to turn back now. There was more to this and he needed to hear it from Jack. Boone came over and sat beside him. “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything but I will look into it.” Both of them remained there saying nothing for a short time before Boone got up and walked out, telling him he would return soon.

  Although Dalton believed in God, and prayer was a regular part of his life, for the first time in a long while he f
ound himself at a loss for words.

  Ten minutes later, Boone returned with good news.

  “I’ve managed to arrange a meeting,” he said.

  Dalton turned. “How?”

  “I would like to say it was the Good Lord but…” he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. “Money talks.”

  Dalton scoffed as they headed for Saranac.

  Not long after arriving at the dreary three-story hospital, they learned why Jack was there. Everything about it sounded odd. He didn’t give specifics only that there had been an accident. While Holbrook wasn’t taking the blame for it, the security guard who had arranged for them to see Jack didn’t cherry coat it. He said in no uncertain terms that someone at the top of the chain had dropped the ball and if it was leaked to the media, there was a good chance heads would roll. He’d also told them they could see Jack on one condition, they were to tell no-one. The hospital cop liked his job, and didn’t want to lose it. Of course a couple of Benjamin Franklins had sealed the deal.

  Jack was in a room on the third floor, a secure location often used for those with mental illness. Two guards were outside his locked room. One was reading a newspaper while the other thumbed through his phone. “Just wait here,” Boone said. Dalton observed him approach them, they exchanged a few words. A security guard looked over at Dalton and nodded before Boone beckoned him over. Inside, Jack was lying in bed, the covers pulled up to his chest and his arms beside him. His eyes were open but he didn’t glance their way. “Five minutes. No longer,” Boone said.

  Dalton nodded and Boone stepped out, closing the door behind him. Pulling up a chair, he stared at him. “Jack. Hey. It’s me. Dalton.”

  Nothing. Jack stared ahead as if in a trance. Dalton noticed the sides of his temples were red as if someone had burned the skin. “What the hell did they do to you?” He placed a hand on Jack’s arm and gave it a squeeze. No acknowledgement. It was as if his brain was fried or he was doped up. They had him hooked up to an IV so there was a possibility they were pumping morphine or some mind numbing drug into his system that was making it hard for him to register. “Jack. Come on, man,” he said giving him a little shake. “What happened? How did you end up in here? What did they do to you?”