Jack
Knifed
A Detective Jack Stratton Novel
Christopher Greyson
Greyson Media
Novels featuring Jack Stratton in order:
GIRL JACKED
JACK KNIFED
JACKS ARE WILD
JACK AND THE GIANT KILLER
DATA JACK
and coming soon…
JACK OF HEARTS
Contents
Chapter 1 - Fork In The Head
Chapter 2 - Thanks For Scaring Me
Chapter 3 - Home
Chapter 4 - Be A Good One
Chapter 5 - They’re All Crazy
Chapter 6 - Hope Falls
Chapter 7 - Guard The Door, George
Chapter 8 - She Said “IT”
Chapter 9 - Acta Non Verba
Chapter 10 - Death Sucks
Chapter 11 - Traveling Circus
Chapter 12 - Another Favor
Chapter 13 - Tea And A Bath
Chapter 14 - Complimentary Laundry
Chapter 15 - He’s A Keeper
Chapter 16 - The Fiduciary
Chapter 17 - A Thing For Faces
Chapter 18 - Drown It
Chapter 19 - How Did I Get Out Of My Clothes?
Chapter 20 - Race You
Chapter 21 - Steak And Cheese, Baby!
Chapter 22 - The Widow’s Walk
Chapter 23 - CHAT
Chapter 24 - Patty’s Special Day
Chapter 25 - Ripples In The Pond
Chapter 26 - Heart Of Gold
Chapter 27 - Coffee And A Haircut
Chapter 28 - Some Best Friend
Chapter 29 - Christmas Roses
Chapter 30 - Big-Boy Badge
Chapter 31 - Oink Panties
Chapter 32 - Sort Of Pregnant
Chapter 33 - Stop Smiling
Chapter 34 - Warp Speed
Chapter 35 - Beg
Chapter 36 - Blinders
Chapter 37 - Sorry About The Shovel
Chapter 38 - He’s A Little Irregular
Chapter 39 - Atlas Auto
Chapter 40 - Gracie
Chapter 41 - Not Her Mother
Chapter 42 - Slow
Chapter 43 - Twenty-Five Minutes
Chapter 44 - Damaged Goods
Chapter 45 - Miss Ultra-Hypocritical
Chapter 46 - What’s My Name?
Chapter 47 - I Had A Book
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A Fork In The Head
Six-year-old Jack Stratton sat at his kitchen table and ate his standard dinner: milk and cereal. As his big, brown eyes scanned the maze game on the back of the cereal box, he used his finger to trace the route Tony the Tiger needed to go to find his way home.
A door creaked down the hallway of his rundown apartment. He turned to see his mom’s bedroom door open. His head rose as he looked with anticipation, but it wasn’t her; it was the creepy guy who had started to live with them a week ago. The guy lumbered out and scratched at his fat belly that hung below a dirty white tank top. The jerk—as Jack called him—strutted around as if he owned the place.
Jack swallowed and kept his head down, trying to focus on Tony the Tiger’s face. He liked Tony. Tall and strong, he was always smiling and giving a big thumbs-up. He was what Jack imagined a dad would be like.
“What the hell is this?” the guy snapped.
Jack slid the cereal box to the side and looked at the milk spots on the table. “I think I spilled some milk,” he admitted.
“You just left it like that?” As the guy’s arms flung wide, his belly bounced. “You think I want to live like a pig?”
Confused, Jack scanned the old rundown kitchen; it had crap everywhere. His mom was never much for keeping things clean. He ignored the guy’s rant and went back to his cereal box.
Jack was a tough little kid; adults rarely intimidated him. Growing up the way he did, he learned to be hard, because soft wasn’t an option.
The guy stepped closer and stood over him. “Did you hear me?”
When Jack didn’t answer, the guy smacked Jack across the side of the head. Half-chewed cereal flew out of his mouth, all over Tony the Tiger. Jack started to run, but the guy grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him to the ground.
“Punk.” The guy shoved the chair out of the way. “I’ll teach you some manners.” He took two strides and pushed Jack into the corner of the kitchen. He started to beat him.
“STOP!” Jack’s little voice screamed.
The guy reared back his hand and balled it into a fist. Each blow hurt like hell. Jack’s tiny arms tried to shield his stomach as the guy slammed his fist into his ribs. Jack struggled to use his legs to kick the jerk off, but it was like a toothpick smashing against a stone wall.
He heard his mother’s voice cry out, “Don’t touch my son!”
Grunting, the guy reached back and shoved her into the wall.
Jack closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he waited for the next blow to come—but it never did. Instead, he heard a strange “thunk.” The guy stumbled back and shrieked like a banshee.
Slowly, Jack opened one eye and looked up to see the oddest sight. The guy stood screaming in the middle of the kitchen, with a fork stuck in his head.
“Get the hell out of my house,” his mother yelled. She threw anything she could get her hands on.
As objects were hurled at him, the guy screamed and ran around in a circle with the fork still wobbling on top of his head. It looked so weird, Jack forgot about the beating he’d just taken and laughed. After a minute of being repeatedly pelted—and one direct hit in the face with a glass saltshaker—the man fled out the front door. Jack’s mother grabbed the jerk’s jacket and chucked it into the hallway. “Get lost, loser.” She slammed the door shut.
When she turned back around, she looked at Jack, her eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
He lifted himself up to a sitting position and nodded.
His mom walked over and knelt down. She reached out and stroked the side of his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jack nodded rapidly.
She helped him get up. She glanced at the cereal that had been dumped in the chaos. “Do you want me to make you some dinner?”
He looked up at her and smiled; she hadn’t made him dinner in months. As she opened the cabinets, her faint smile vanished—every cabinet was empty. She shut the last one, and stared at him for a minute. Jack shifted uncomfortably. Her head snapped up. She turned and went to the high cabinet above the refrigerator. She pushed some pots around and then pulled out a dark navy box. Her blue eyes sparkled. “What about some mac and cheese?”
“Yeah. That sounds great, Mommy.”
Jack ran to get the bowls while she filled a pot with water. He came over and stood beside her while they waited for it to boil.
She glanced at his swollen cheek; her shoulders slumped, and her lip trembled. Jack thought she was about to cry; he’d never seen her do that. She turned away and dumped the hard, dry pasta into the pot. Gently, he reached out and touched her arm. She looked back at him and smiled.
As the little cloud of steam from the boiling water rose, Jack got lost looking into the fog…
“Jack?”
He opened his eyes to see the fog rising high inside the shower.
“Jack?” Replacement called out again, as she knocked on the bathroom door. Her voice snapped him back to reality.
“Hold on.” He turned off the water and headed for the sink.
Jack stared at the bathroom mirror, still fogged up from his shower. He reached out and cleared a small circle. His dark-brown eyes were the same, but it wasn’t a little boy who stared
back at him anymore; it was the face of a twenty-six-year-old man. He shaved close, but needed a haircut badly. His eyes had dark semicircles underneath; he hadn’t been sleeping well because of the nightmares he kept having about his childhood.
He pushed back his dark-brown hair and rolled his broad shoulders. Most of the time when he looked in the mirror he saw a handsome guy, but not today. Right now, he almost scared himself. Jack rinsed his mouth out and glared back at his reflection one more time.
“Jack?” Replacement knocked again.
He rolled his eyes.
Is she ever gonna take no for an answer?
“Yeah.” He opened the bathroom door and walked past her. Grabbing his jacket, he headed for the front door.
“Please?” She jumped in front of him and clasped her hands together.
“No,” he said sternly. “I don’t want you along. Not on this.” Jack walked around her and opened the front door. She slipped under his arm and out in front of him. He had to stop short. Replacement’s five-foot-four petite frame stood square in the middle of the hallway as she blocked the way.
He fought back a grin. “You look about as threatening as a puppy,” he joked. He knew she could hold her own. She’d shown that in spades last month on their last adventure.
“Please?” Dressed in a T-shirt, blue jeans, and little fur-trimmed brown boots that matched her brunette ponytail, she smiled up at him. The outfit gave her a bit of a country look. She was a fit and attractive nineteen-year-old.
He exhaled. He looked down at her pouting face and those damn cute little dimples that melted his heart, and answered, “No.” He pulled the door closed, walked around her. As he stomped down the small hallway, the thin carpet did little to dampen the heavy pounding of his heels.
“Please? I’ll be good. Please?” She skipped after him.
“How many times do I have to say no? I don’t want to go. Why would I want you to be?”
Jack rushed down the stairs. The old rail shook as he thundered past. The old door swung open with a creak, and he lowered his head to shield his eyes from the midday sun. Dashing down the steps, he took two large strides, got out his car keys, and then stopped cold. The spot where he parked his big, blue, semi-refurbished 1978 Chevy Impala was empty.
“I parked it right here.” Perplexed, he scanned both sides of the street—but it was clearly gone. His hands turned into fists. “Who the hell stole my car?”
Replacement ran up next to him and smiled. “You have two choices: you can have a really long walk, or you can take me with you and I’ll show you where I hid the car.” She held up his backup set of keys and jingled them.
Jack looked up at the sky. She was a mix of infuriating and adorable. He huffed. “Fine, but I’m driving.” He snatched the keys just in case she decided to argue.
Her smile spread from ear to ear as she turned and bounded around the corner toward the back of the building. Jack shook his head and followed.
“Jack?” Someone called his name from up above.
He stopped and looked up to the second floor where his landlady, Mrs. Stevens, waved her handkerchief. She struggled to lean her hefty upper body out the open window.
“The Dixons finished moving out. I’ll have the downstairs apartment all clean in a day or two, but the painters can’t start until next Monday. They should be done a few days after that.” Her bright red mane of hair bobbed back and forth.
He smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Stevens. I appreciate it.”
“Give Alice my love.”
He nodded. When he had realized that Alice needed a place to live, he asked Mrs. Stevens about the larger two-bedroom apartment downstairs.
Jack watched Mrs. Stevens struggle back through the window. He waited a second to make sure she wasn’t going to need help getting her large frame back into the room. Once she was clear, he walked on.
When Jack turned the corner and saw Replacement leaning seductively against his old car, his eyes widened. She posed like a hostess on a game show who had the job of showing off the prize. Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Her posture was doing more to show off her features than the car’s. He inhaled deeply and a faint smile crossed his face. Although he and Replacement never really lived under the same roof before, they’d been raised in the same foster home—years apart, of course. He’d long since moved out and been adopted when she’d come on the scene and lived at Aunt Haddie’s foster home. When Jack went back to visit Aunt Haddie and his best friend Chandler, Replacement was always there, following him around like a lovesick puppy. She’d had a crush on him then when she was ten, and it hadn’t seemed to fade over time.
Now things were changing, and Jack wasn’t sure where all this was going. But the two of them sharing an apartment was easier than he’d thought it would be. He liked her. The only hard part was dealing with all the emotions she stirred up inside him.
“And the winner of the ‘Locate Your Own Car’ contest is…Jack Stratton!” She tossed her hands over her head and clapped.
“That’s the prize?” he said dryly. “I won my own car?”
She smiled.
As he walked forward, he scanned the back alley and fire escape.
Clear.
His years in the Army and as a police officer had changed him. Now something as mundane as walking into a new area generated instinctive responses. He could no longer simply go somewhere—now he was always on patrol.
Head on a swivel. Look for anything out of place. Identify possible threats. Drive yourself crazy.
“Not only did you win the car, but you also get the company of the beautiful hostess.”
“Great,” Jack grumbled. “Now get in.” The corner of his mouth curled up.
Replacement ran around, slid into the passenger seat, and flashed Jack a big smile. As he looked at her face, he realized how tough she was. The last traces of black and blue from her black eye were fading. There was still the slightest yellowish discoloration along her jawline, but that would disappear in another week or so.
Jack looked at his own reflection in the rearview mirror. The last month hadn’t been kind to him, either. He looked rough. He was glad to get away and try to forget what both of them had just been through. He let the engine warm up for a few seconds, and then slid the seat back to accommodate his large frame. The Impala purred deeply. He gave her a little gas and then backed out.
They rode along in silence until they pulled onto the highway. He liked that about Replacement. She loved to talk but, unlike most girls, she didn’t think it was the end of the world if he asked her to be quiet. Silence for them wasn’t usually a bad thing; however, today it felt off. It was going to be a three-hour drive, but that wasn’t the reason for the silence. Jack didn’t look at her; he knew that Replacement was devising a way to ask him for the umpteenth time if he really wanted to go through with this.
I don’t want to go. It’s the last place I want to go. I don’t want to see her.
That was another change in his life. Before, his anger and bitterness kept her out of his thoughts. Now he dreamed about her every night. It had been twenty years since he last saw her, but lately she haunted his dreams. Long blond hair, clear blue eyes—she was beautiful. In his mind, she remained unchanged by time. He wondered what she looked like now. He pressed on the gas.
Replacement pulled her legs up underneath herself. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Some. Maybe an hour. Sleep deprivation. Isn’t that how they torture people?” Jack knew he had to get her out of his head or he’d go crazy.
“I can drive. You can sleep on the way.” Replacement’s voice was slightly higher than normal.
“I’m good, kid.”
“We can always stop overnight someplace or—” Her voice cracked.
“Seriously, I’m fine.” He looked over at her and noticed the trees whizzing by her window. He turned back and looked down at the speedometer.
Ninety-five mph. He took his foot off the gas. Yeah…I’m
fine.
Replacement let go of her death grip on the door handle. “Just let me know if you want me to drive.” She made the offer with a strained smile. The awkward silence took over once again. It was the kind of uncomfortable void where both people wanted to talk but neither knew what to say or where to begin. It was the kind of quiet Jack hated, but the only way to stop it was for him to say something, and right now that option seemed less desirable.
Replacement sat up and folded her hands in her lap. “We’ll just go out there and see what happens. It’ll be okay.” She finished her pep talk with a quick nod of her head.
“Okay? We’re going to a mental hospital. How ‘okay’ is this going to be?” His lead foot kicked in again. Cars pulled over to get out of his way.
Replacement frowned, pulled her legs up on the seat, and put her chin on her knees. “What should I call her?” Replacement’s nose crinkled and she tilted her head. “Patricia? Ms. Cole? Patty?”
“Patty?” Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to call her, let alone what you should.” He took his foot off the gas and tried to slow down. “I can’t call her…”
“Mom?” Replacement lifted her head off her legs. “Why not?”
“Because she threw that title away.”
After a few minutes, Jack heard the wind between the Impala and the guardrail streaking by again. He looked down at the speedometer.
Ninety-eight. Damn. He took his foot off the gas and moved into the slow lane.
“I don’t have any clue what I’m going to say to her. I haven’t seen her since I was seven.” He shook his head. “I mean, what do you say to someone like that?”
Replacement’s mouth opened and closed in silent rage. One look at her narrowing eyes and snarling lip and Jack burst out laughing.
“What?” Replacement’s hands shot up.
“That look on your face. You look like you want to smack someone. Why would you be pissed at her?”
“Pfft. Oh, I don’t know, maybe because she left you in a bus station. How the hell can a woman do that to her baby?” She shook her head in disgust. “To you?”
“I wasn’t a baby.”
JACK KNIFED Page 1
