Targeted (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 9)

by Becky Durfee

  “What was that about?” Zack asked.

  “John. He failed his drug test, which isn’t surprising, but now I have to figure out how to confront him with this information. We made a deal that he would go back to rehab if one of his tests ever came back positive, but I never really thought about how I would make that happen if the time came.” She looked down at her feet. “I guess I was always just optimistic it would never happen.”

  “Don’t you think he knows he’s going to fail it?”

  “I would assume so…although, it had been a few days, apparently.” Lifting her gaze to her husband, she asked, “How long does crack stay in your system?”

  “You’re asking me as if I know the answer,” he replied with a smirk.

  Jenny only giggled.

  Zack pressed some buttons on his phone, saying, “How long had it been, exactly?”

  Exhaling as she thought, Jenny said, “I think it was two or three days.”

  “It looks like it could be questionable as to whether or not he would fail it. More sensitive tests could detect the crack, but it might have flown under the radar if they used a basic test.”

  “You know I ask for the most sensitive tests.”

  “I know that,” Zack said, looking up at her, “but he may not.”

  She sighed, lowering her shoulders. “Okay, so maybe he thought he could get away with it. How am I supposed to let him know he didn’t?”

  Zack sat next to Jenny on the bed. “This is just my opinion, but I think you should get his sister to gather up some buddies—or some of the rehab guys or something—to all show up at once and confront him. Enough people to convince him that putting up a fight would be a bad idea.” He leaned into her with a little nudge. “You remember what happened the last time you tried to get him to agree to go to rehab?”

  “He was a full-fledged addict then,” Jenny said, “and that was an intervention.”

  “Still,” Zack added, “if you didn’t have some big guys guarding the doors, John would have been out of there.”

  Jenny didn’t respond, silently contemplating what Zack was saying.

  “Even with all of the guys there, he managed to tear up his house pretty bad. Remember that? It took me forever to fix that place up.”

  With a half-hearted smile, she said, “I hoped that once we got him out of that house, he’d leave that lifestyle behind.”

  “It’s a strong pull, I’m sure,” Zack replied. “He’ll probably battle those demons forever. Sometimes it will get the best of him; other times he’ll be able to beat it. With a good support network, though, he can hopefully spend most of his time clean.”

  “I guess you’re right; thanks, hon.” She patted Zack’s leg. “I suppose I should give his sister a call—sooner rather than later, for more reasons than one. I want to get this over with.”

  “You’ve got this,” he said, standing up. “If anyone can handle that phone call with all the necessary tact, it’s you.”

  While she appreciated the support, for a fleeting moment she wished she was somebody else—somebody completely and utterly irresponsible, who nobody ever expected anything from. Those people never had to make phone calls like this. They could just skirt though life, acting selfishly, not even really disappointing anybody because no one expected anything more from them.

  But people like that never changed the world.

  With a reluctant sigh, Jenny made the call to John’s sister, Amanda, who agreed to gather up her husband and his brothers for a second time. Although she seemed disappointed, Amanda was clearly grateful for the information. Jenny was relieved by that reaction, making her realize that she had done the right thing by making the call—even if it had been painful to do.

  After hanging up the phone, she finished getting ready to head out to the park. “I hope our car is drivable,” she noted as she gathered up her purse to leave.

  “Well, I parked within sight of a security camera and next to a news van from Saint Louis; it was the safest place I could find.”

  “I think we should get a rental today and leave our car in the parking lot of the police station,” she suggested. “Maybe we can find one with Missouri plates and blend in a little better.”

  “That, my darling wife, is a fabulous idea.”

  Much to Jenny’s relief, they found their car intact in the parking lot, and it didn’t explode when the key turned in the ignition. After a quick stop at a rental agency and a drop-off at the police station, Zack and Jenny drove off in a white Acura with in-state tags and headed for Buford Park.

  The park was buzzing with morning joggers and dog walkers. Despite the open nature of the park, three different concrete walking paths cut through the grassy space, each with a wooden sign at the entrance marking a different length trail. “We should take this one,” Jenny noted, pointing at a sign with a red square etched into the wood; it advertised a three-mile loop. “That’s the path that at least one of the girls used to take.”

  “You don’t know which girl?”

  “Nope,” she replied, “I only know which path.”

  Seeing a woman walk by pushing a stroller, an ache burned within Jenny. In an instant, she realized how desperately she missed her baby. As much as he drove her crazy sometimes, she didn’t feel right without him. “I hope we can get this solved quickly and get back to Steve,” she said as they started to walk the red trail. “I don’t want to leave here until the killer is caught, but I’m dying to get home and squeeze my baby.”

  “I get that,” he said, grinning at her sideways. “You just saw that woman with the stroller, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” she confessed.

  “I’m feeling the same way when I see people with dogs. I miss Steve more, obviously, but I do miss Baxter, too. He was our first baby, after all.”

  Jenny wasn’t entirely convinced that Zack missed the baby more than the dog. His bond with the dog ran deeper than it did with his own son, a notion that had been plaguing Jenny since Steve had been born. Zack’s parenting role had slowly been increasing, and Jenny’s tolerance and love for the baby had exploded in recent months, so she had been more accepting of the imbalance. However, she did have a deep-rooted fear that Zack’s relationship with Steve would never be quite what it should be.

  “See, that dog even looks like Baxter,” Zack said, pointing at a black lab mix. “I miss my buddy.”

  Jenny found herself getting irritated that he missed the dog more than the baby, so she simply changed the subject. “I’m going to try to concentrate a little bit…see if I can get a reading.” After taking a few more steps, she added, “I do feel a little funny, actually, like someone’s trying to get through to me.”

  “That’s promising.”

  “It is promising,” Jenny replied, “although I have no idea what I’m supposed to be focusing on. I just know there’s something here that I should be paying attention to.”

  Once again, Jenny studied every male face that jogged by, feeling nervous, wondering each time if she was looking at the face of a killer. The supernatural buzz stirring inside her did nothing to help with her uneasiness. In her mind, every man was the culprit, and that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

  Without warning, her eyes found their way to a dense patch of clovers to the right of the path. She immediately honed in on one in particular, plucking it with her thumb and forefinger, examining it closely.

  Four leaves.

  As she was trying to determine the significance of this latest development, Zack commented, “Good find.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t a find. I was led to it.”

  “It means something?”

  “It must,” Jenny said, still trying to figure out the message.

  “Maybe it’s a good luck charm…an indication that we’re about to find the killer.”

  “That would be spectacular,” she said sincerely, tucking the clover into an outside pocket of her purse, “for more reasons than one.”

 
; They continued down the path, Jenny confessing, “I do feel awfully strange. Something is definitely up…I just wish I knew what it was.”

  “Well, keep your eyes open. Maybe you will see what you are meant to see.”

  A man jogged by in the opposite direction, making eye contact with Jenny, raising a hand and giving a slight smile in acknowledgement. Jenny wondered if she had just witnessed basic cordiality or if she was being taunted. A second man ran by with a nod, invoking the same fear. Another guy stood still and watched Jenny go by as his dog sniffed the base of a tree.

  This was maddening.

  With an upward glance, Jenny saw something off in the distance. Squinting, she asked Zack, “Is that a person?”

  “Where?”

  “Up ahead. To the right of the trail.”

  Zack searched around until his eyes landed on what Jenny wanted him to see. “It looks that way,” he agreed. “It looks like he’s just sitting there. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we may have just found our homeless man.”

  Chapter 10

  Zack and Jenny walked closer to the man, who sat in the sun on a dirty blanket. He was dressed for chilly weather in tattered clothes, wearing socks on his hands. His long hair and matted beard suggested he had been out on the streets for a while.

  This was the person Jenny had seen in her vision while visiting Lisa’s apartment.

  Unsure how to begin, Jenny simply said, “Hello, there. How are you today?”

  He glanced up at her, squinting one eye in the bright sunlight. “Oh, you know,” he replied. “Same old, same old.”

  Jenny guessed his age to be in his mid-forties; she wondered what his story was and what led him to be out there. For the moment, she didn’t feel anything frightening, so she operated under the assumption that he was innocent until proven guilty.

  “You doing okay?” she asked. “Do you need anything?”

  “Breakfast,” the man said plainly.

  “You need breakfast?”

  “It should be coming soon.”

  Jenny looked around in all directions, seeing only joggers and dog walkers. “Somebody brings you breakfast?”

  “Jeremy does. Some days he’s not real, but the breakfast is always real.” He looked at Jenny. “A biscuit with sausage and eggs. That’s what I like. One day he brought me a biscuit with ham and eggs. I didn’t care for that too much, but I ate it. If the Good Lord is willing to provide me with food, who am I to argue?”

  Jenny smiled at him, her curiosity about how this man ended up on the streets satisfied. “The man who brings you food isn’t real sometimes?”

  “Most days he isn’t. Sometimes he is. It all depends.”

  Jenny decided to drop it. “What is your name, friend?”

  “My name is Sir Walter James Southerland.” He pulled the sock off his hand and held up three fingers. “The third.” He wriggled the dirty sock back on.

  “What should I call you?” Jenny asked.

  “You should call me Sir Walter James Southerland the Third. That’s my name.” There was no hostility in his tone.

  “Okay, Sir Walter James Southerland the Third…How long have you lived out here?”

  “Oh, you know. A couple of days.”

  “Just a couple of days?”

  “That’s right.”

  Jenny glanced down at his feet. He was wearing two different shoes, both of them designed for the right foot. One shoe was substantially larger than the other, potentially as large as a size fourteen.

  “Ah,” he announced, “here comes my breakfast.”

  Jenny looked up, following the path of Sir Walter James Southerland the Third’s eyes, seeing what appeared to be a college student heading toward them. The young man’s smile was broad, and his hair was in long dreadlocks, pulled together behind his head with an elastic band. Indeed, he had two wrapped breakfast sandwiches in one hand and a gallon of water in the other.

  Once the man got close enough, he looked at Zack and Jenny, announcing, “I didn’t realize we’d have company this morning; otherwise I would have brought more food.”

  “Oh,” Jenny said with a smile, “don’t worry about us. We’re fine.”

  After handing off the sandwich to Sir Walter James Southerland the Third and setting the gallon of water down on the ground, the young man stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Jeremy Washington. Zack and Jenny introduced themselves as well.

  Turning to Sir Walter James Southerland the Third, Jeremy asked, “Why are you wearing socks on your hands?” He took a seat on the blanket, tucking his legs underneath him.

  “That’s how they wanted to be worn today.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jeremy replied with a grin. “They told you that?”

  “Yup. They sure did.”

  “So, what do you want to hear this morning?”

  Sir Walter James Southerland the Third looked up at the sky and said, “How about a little something about encouragement?”

  “Okay,” Jeremy said, “encouragement.” After thinking for a moment, he closed his eyes and bowed his head; the homeless man did the same. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

  “That’s a good one,” Sir Walter James Southerland the Third said. “What was it?”

  “Isaiah, forty-one ten,” Jeremy told him. Both men unwrapped their sandwiches and started to eat.

  Jenny watched this exchange with awe. “Do you two do this every morning?”

  Jeremy nodded, tucking the bite of food into his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  Jeremy looked over at his homeless friend, asking, “What’s it been, about a year now?”

  Sir Walter James Southerland the Third nodded, his eyebrows down, genuinely replying, “At least two or three days.”

  Fascinated by this, Jenny couldn’t help but ask more questions. “How did it start?”

  “Well, I’d seen him here a few times,” Jeremy began, “and then one Sunday my pastor said something in his sermon that really struck me. He quoted John three-seventeen and three-eighteen. ‘If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth.’ At that point I realized I had just walked by my brother, here, many times without offering a hand. That’s not the behavior of a Christian.”

  Jenny stood frozen as she listened.

  “So, one morning I brought him breakfast,” Jeremy continued. “At first, I just handed it to him, but after talking to him a few times, I realized he’s got some interesting things to say. Now I take a few minutes each morning to eat my breakfast with him.”

  “A biscuit with sausage and eggs,” Sir Walter James Southerland the Third said.

  “That’s right,” Jeremy replied with a smile directed toward his friend. “A biscuit with sausage and eggs.” He returned his attention to Zack and Jenny. “I mix mine up from time to time, but his is always the same.”

  “And some scripture,” Sir Walter James Southerland the Third added. “Can’t forget about that.”

  “That’s right. We always start with a little scripture. We always remember that we owe all our blessings to Him.” Jeremy looked inquisitively at Zack and Jenny. “So, what brings you two here today?”

  “Actually, I’d like to discuss that with you on your way out, if you don’t mind,” Jenny replied. “Perhaps a little more privately.”

  Jeremy’s face remained pleasant, although it reflected curiosity. “Sure, we can do that.” He turned back to Sir Walter James Southerland the Third and asked, “Isn’t it a little hard to eat with socks on your hands?”

  “It is, but it makes them happy.”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you. How’s your toothpaste supply? You running low yet?”


  Reaching into a bag, the homeless man pulled out some toiletries. “Still have half a tube. I am running low on this, though.” He held up a bottle of hand sanitizer.

  “I can bring you more of that tomorrow. Anything else you need?”

  “No, sir.” He packed up his belongings. “I saw the doe again this morning.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’m thinking she’s with child.”

  Jeremy smiled. “That sounds about right. ‘Tis the season.”

  “She isn’t scared of me,” Sir Walther James Southerland the Third announced proudly. “I think she’s used to me by now.”

  “Well, you’re harmless. She knows that.”

  “I’m not harmless if you’re a biscuit with sausage and eggs.” He took an exaggerated bite of his breakfast.

  With a loud laugh, Jeremy said, “That is true.”

  After a short time, the men finished up their meals and Jeremy stood up. Sir Walter James Southerland the Third handed him an empty water jug, and, with a handshake, they agreed to meet in the same place the next morning.

  As Jeremy, Zack and Jenny headed back toward the parking lot, Jenny felt a bizarre mixture of respect and inadequacy. She couldn’t have revered Jeremy any more than she did, but she felt ashamed of herself for not having behaved similarly at that age. “Wow,” she began, once they were out of earshot of the homeless man, “you really are an extraordinary person.”

  “Me? Nah,” Jeremy replied. “I’m just doing what the bible tells me to do.”

  “Not everybody does that,” she commented.

  “It’s not much,” he said sheepishly. “It’s a breakfast sandwich and a jug of water. I feel like I should be doing more.”

  “Well, if every person of privilege reached out to one disadvantaged person the way you have, we wouldn’t have any disadvantaged people.”

  “He still wouldn’t have a home,” Jeremy replied sadly.

  Jenny knew in her mind that was only temporary. Once this ordeal was over, Sir Walter James Southerland the Third would be housed somewhere. Whether that would be a mental facility or a jail cell remained to be seen. “Well, I’d like to ask you a few questions about him, if you don’t mind.”