“That’s our cover. You can’t be undercover unless you have a cover, and that’s our cover.”
“We can pick another one.” Jack frowned.
“No, we can’t. What? What would we pick? We’re really a traveling circus team?” Replacement pantomimed juggling.
“No.” Jack tried not to, but he smiled at her joke as they got into the car. “The best covers have truth to them; we say that you’re my sister.”
“I’m not your sister.”
“You’re my foster sister.” Jack’s grin had vanished.
“Jack.” Replacement shut her door, wrapped her arms around herself and leaned away from him. “You didn’t live at Aunt Haddie’s when I came to live there. You were already out.”
“Yeah? But I consider Michelle and Chandler my brother and sister.”
“That’s different. You lived with them. You didn’t live with me.”
“So, you’re saying that you don’t consider me…like a big brother?”
Replacement made a face as if she ate a bug. “No.”
Jack put the car in drive and pulled out.
Well, thanks a lot, kid.
Jack pushed his tape of Johnny Cash into the cassette deck and turned up the volume. The Impala roared as he sped onto the main road back to town, “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” blaring over the speakers.
Great. Just great. I take her in, and what? That’s how she thinks of me? I’m not like a big brother? Chandler is, and I’m not?
Jack could picture Chandler’s reaction to his jealousy. His large friend would have tried to calm Jack down but would have been laughing at the same time.
Why is it I feel like I can just call him? If I drive over, then Chandler will still be there? Death sucks.
Traveling Circus
Jack pulled over at the general store in the center of town. It was the largest building on the block, and employees were bringing in the miscellaneous items they’d set out for display earlier in the day. As he turned the car off, he watched a family walk down the sidewalk.
A young boy tugged at his father’s arm. The man had his other arm around his pregnant wife, who smiled and waved to a car that passed.
This would have been my hometown. It’s like Mayberry. I would have grown up here. No motels. What…
The leather on the steering wheel creaked as his grip tightened and Jack shut his eyes. He wanted to smash something. He flung open his door and jumped out of the car. He made so much noise the father turned to look at him. The man’s smile quickly disappeared, and he pulled his wife and son closer as he kept them moving.
Jack slammed the car door shut and headed for the store. He was at the entrance when he realized Replacement wasn’t with him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her lean against the car. She had her arms crossed and was scowling.
He kept going. He pulled the glass door open and a little bell rang overhead. Row upon row of neatly stocked shelves filled the right section. Racks of clothes were on the left. Jack frowned. The checkout was in the back of the store. It was a throwback to a more innocent age when people were trusted. The policeman in him cringed.
A few shoppers were scattered around the store, but he was looking for an employee. A young girl with a red apron stocked some shelves. She stopped as Jack approached.
“Can I help you?” She was maybe sixteen, with blond pigtails, braces, and a warm smile.
“I need an air mattress.”
“I know where one is.” The girl spun around and walked down the aisle. As she searched the shelves, she held her finger out in front of her like a pointer.
“Nope…no…it was…here,” she proclaimed as she located the one faded box. “Are you using it for sleeping?”
Jack blinked a couple of times and tried not to smirk.
“Actually, I’m with a traveling circus and we need it because our net broke.”
The girl’s eyes became saucers, and her neck lengthened. “Really?”
Jacked laughed. The girl kept smiling, waiting for him to elaborate.
He laughed again, louder. “I’m sorry; it’s a joke. I just—”
A loud pop was followed by the tinkle of broken glass. The girl screamed and jumped around. Just behind her, an old woman stood frozen in place. Her hands were out in front of her, and whatever she’d been holding lay in a million pieces at her feet. Jack glanced first at the shelf in front of her and then at the glass punch bowls, but her face drew his eyes back. He couldn’t place the emotions that raced across her eyes. Fear. Confusion. Warmth.
“Are you okay?” Jack moved the clerk to the side and slowly approached the woman. “You should back up a little because of the glass.”
The woman seemed to age even more before his eyes as she continued to grow paler. Her trembling, gnarled hand reached up to her mouth while the other pulled her jacket tighter to her chest. She stepped forward; her feet crunched the glass on the floor.
Jack angled his head and tried to smile as he reached out to steady her. She didn’t take his outstretched hand. Instead, her hand touched the side of his face as she moved even closer. The woman was in her seventies. She was very small and slightly hunched over. Her white hair was short and wispy, but her blue eyes were bright and now glistened with tears.
“I’m sorry, do I know your parents?” The woman’s voice was a whisper.
Jack swallowed. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
“Mrs. Ritter? Mrs. Ritter!” An older man with a red apron rushed down the aisle toward them.
She didn’t take her eyes from Jack’s face. She smiled at him, and a large tear ran down her wrinkled cheek.
“I think…” Jack straightened up. “I don’t think so. I’m not from around here.”
The old woman’s lip trembled, and her hand fell back to her side.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The clerk put his arm around her shoulder.
Jack grabbed the mattress box and spun around. Replacement stood behind him. As he stormed by, she reached for his arm, but he didn’t slow down; he marched to the checkout counter and quickly counted out the bills.
“Jack…”
“Don’t.”
He kept his eyes on the floor as he retreated to the car. Replacement’s door had barely closed when Jack whipped the car out of the space. His face was white, and his jaw was set.
“Jack…”
“I said don’t.”
“She’s your—”
“Nothing. You don’t know.” He smacked the steering wheel. “My mother was a whore. How do I know that he even was my father?”
“Jack.” Replacement sat up. Jack glared over at her; she closed her eyes and whispered, “Jack, you know he’s your fa—”
“You don’t know. I doubt Patricia knew who the real father was. He could have been a hundred different guys.”
“Look at that picture. He looks just like you.”
Jack’s teeth ground together. “Even if he was, so what? He was probably as crazy as her. He dated a whore. What kind of man—?”
“He was seventeen. Maybe he was nice.” Replacement looked down at her hands. “Maybe he was like you.”
“Like me?” Jack scoffed. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he was like. You don’t even know me.”
He stepped on the gas, and the Impala raced forward.
“I know you.” She spun on the seat to stare at him.
“No, you don’t.” He slammed on the brakes at the red light. “Be glad you don’t.”
“I do know you. Michelle talked about you all the time.”
“That’s different. That’s the outside. She told you about what I was doing, or stuff we did when we were little. She didn’t tell you about me. Stuff in here.” He pointed at his head.
Replacement’s voice lowered. “She told me about here.” She pointed to her heart.
Jack froze. He stared at the dashboard and the hairs on the back of his neck rose with his breathing.
“She wouldn’t h
ave told you. Not about…personal things.”
Damn it. Damn it. Michelle wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t break that trust.
“She was worried about you,” Replacement whispered.
“Did she…? Damn it,” he snarled.
“We were like sisters.” Replacement pulled her legs up and hugged them.
Jack’s anger swirled the silence into an uncomfortable void between them.
“That’s a reason for her to break my confidence? What did…?”
Jack’s mind raced. He had confided everything about himself to Michelle. To him, it was so odd. She was two years younger than he was, but ever since they were kids, she’d been his confidant and advisor.
“After Chandler…you didn’t come back, and she didn’t know what was going on with you. Michelle was hurting too, and I think talking about you helped her. She was worried so…we talked.”
I told Michelle everything. All of it. Did she tell Replacement…everything?
Jack stomped the accelerator as the light turned green. The Impala’s rear tires spun for a second before the car shot forward. Jack snarled. “That doesn’t mean you know me.”
Replacement looked out the window. After a moment, she spoke, and her voice was flat. “You know nothing about me, Jack.”
The realization that she was right hit him in the throat. He caught his breath, and his foot eased off the gas. Over the last couple of months, he could only remember a half-dozen moments when Replacement was at Aunt Haddie’s.
Aunt Haddie brought her home when she was, like, eleven. Her real name is Alice, but she doesn’t like it. Why? Her last name is Campbell, but that just means she took Aunt Haddie’s name. What’s her real last name? What happened to her parents?
The list of unanswered questions was long. He glanced over at her, and she was still pensively looking out the window. Was she thinking about the same things? Her parents? Her past? She didn’t look over in his direction, and he couldn’t blame her.
She’s right. Ever since she showed up in my living room, what have I learned about her? She saved my life and I treat her like everyone else. I keep her out. I don’t want her to know about me, and I don’t know anything about her.
Jack stopped at another light and watched the cars slowly pass.
I take her into my life but I keep her at a distance. Jack, you’re a piece of work.
“I’m sorry.” His words hung in the air, but she didn’t turn her head. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about you, either.”
He heard her exhale, and she put her feet on the floor. Her voice was soft but clear as she spoke. “I think you’re wrong, Jack. Steven Ritter was your father.”
Jack pulled over and shut the car off but kept looking straight ahead.
“I know. I knew it when I saw the photo.” He touched his chest. “Michelle didn’t know me, and neither can you because I don’t know me.” Jack looked out his window. “As long as I can remember, I’ve always wondered who my father was. I’d be somewhere, see some man who looks sort of like me, and think… It drove me crazy, but I couldn’t stop doing it. I mean, I’d be arresting some guy, and I’d be thinking: could this be my father?”
Jack ran his hands through his hair, and then shook his head. “Now I find him and…I want to deny it. I want to say it’s not him. It’s some other guy but not him. I’m screwed up.”
Rain fell on the windshield and dinged off the roof.
“Jack, that’s not screwed up—it’s normal.”
“Crazy is the new black?”
“No, but anyone can understand why you wouldn’t want it to be him. I’m sorry that he’s dead.”
“Me too.”
The light rain turned into a downpour. The gray cloud cover had changed to black. A storm was coming.
Another Favor
The parking lot was a short walk from the inn so they ran through the downpour for the porch. They were both soaked by the time they reached the top of the stairs. The cold rain seemed to invigorate Replacement, and she grinned broadly. It had the opposite effect on Jack. The chill felt as if it sucked the warmth and strength right out of him. He leaned against the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his skin turned pale.
“I’ll be one second.” He pulled out his cell phone and held it up.
“I’ll wait.” Replacement smiled and leaned against the wall next to him.
“You’re soaked. Why don’t you run up and take a bath?”
Replacement hummed a little tune and happily danced from foot to foot. She grabbed his jacket and pulled his face closer to hers. “Do you know how good that will feel?” Her whole body vibrated.
“Go. Enjoy yourself,” Jack encouraged her.
She squealed and rushed off upstairs. Jack smiled, but a cold gust of wind and an icy spray of rain quickly extinguished any of the warmth left from Replacement’s enthusiasm. He turned to the wall, pulled out his phone and called Cindy.
“Hello, Cindy Grant speaking.”
There was a moment’s pause. “Hey, it’s me, Jack. I need to ask a huge favor.”
There was an even longer pause, and then Cindy cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry, Cindy.” Jack rolled his eyes and began again. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Jack. Thank you so much for asking. Besides the media circus outside and Sheriff Collins’s daily eruptions inside, everything is just great.”
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s that bad. On top of all the media, the attorney general’s office has been going over everything with a fine-toothed comb.”
“The AG? Why would they…damn.”
“Let’s just leave it as bad. You want another favor?”
Jack ran his fingers through his dripping wet hair.
“I need you to run some background checks.”
Jack ran down all the information he had on the three men named Terry.
“Got it.” Cindy wrote so fast that he could hear her pen scratching. “How should I get it to you? Do you have email out in the sticks?”
“Yeah. I have my smart phone.” Jack leaned closer to the wall and tucked his head down into his jacket. “Can you run one more? Alice Campbell.”
“Alice? Our Alice?”
“Cindy, please?”
There was another long pause. “Jack, are you all right?”
Jack wanted to blurt out he wasn’t. He wanted to start blubbering into the phone and have her tell him everything would be fine. The rough wooden shingles scratched into the back of his hand as he pushed against the wall.
“Yeah. I’m good, Cindy.” He stood up. “I appreciate it.”
The rain was a torrential downpour now. Visibility was only a few feet, but everything around him sparkled as the lights from the inn reflected off the drops that shattered against the porch. Jack could picture the old woman’s face. He could still hear the breaking bowl and the glass chiming as it bounced along the floor.
She knew. I’m his son. My father was murdered. I have no control over that.
Jack looked up and stepped out. The rain ran down his upturned face, and he opened his eyes. He stared at the heavens and stood there, glaring up into the blackness.
I control the now. Now it’s my turn.
Tea And A Bath
Jack walked back into the inn and stopped. The water dripped off his face, and he watched it fall onto the red welcome mat.
“Mr. Stratton?” Behind the front counter, the tall woman called to him. “Mr. Stratton, you’re dripping on my floor.”
A wiseass grin spread across his face. He slowly lifted his chin and met her disapproving gaze. She raised one eyebrow and folded her hands in front of her. The light-brown period dress she wore was different from the others. Those dresses all had high necklines, but this was cut low. Jack’s eyes lingered on her breasts and, from the look on her face, this was not lost on her. Jack slowly stalked forward and walked partway behind the counter.
I’m sick of this lady being on my bac
k. Break her personal space and put her off guard.
“My apologies. I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” He kept his voice low.
She didn’t back up. Her chin lifted, and her lips pursed. A slight pink flushed her cheeks. “How may I help you, Mr. Stratton?”
Jack smiled and waited a moment before he answered. He enjoyed the pause. He relished the control. The muscles around her eyes and mouth twitched slightly, revealing her struggle to keep the mask of refinement on her face. Jack leaned in so he’d be uncomfortably close but, to her credit, she didn’t shrink back.
“Do you…have anything to drink?” he asked.
Now it was Jack’s turn to wait. Her expression didn’t change, but she breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. The faint smell of chamomile reached him, and he grinned roguishly.
“Mr. Stratton, there’s a bar down—”
Jack leaned back and feigned a look of shock. “Ms. Foster, on a cold night like this, I was only thinking of having a cup of tea to warm me.” He looked at her like a child rebuffed and took a step back.
“Tea?” she asked incredulously. “You just want a cup of tea?”
She took the bait. Wait. Let her run.
“I went for a long walk in the woods out back, and I got caught in that downpour. Now I’m chilled to the bone. I thought I might go back to my room, get a good book, and relax in the bath with a nice cup of tea.” He was laying it on thick. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and her pursed lips relaxed and then slowly opened. Jack resisted the urge to smile as her eyes traveled over him while she reappraised him. “I’ll have to remember to pick some up in town next time. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
Slump your shoulders. Small smile. Nod. Jack slowly moved for the staircase.
“Mr. Stratton, was there a particular tea that you wanted?”
Jack turned around with one foot on the stairs. She walked out from behind the counter, and her hands were now behind her back. He sheepishly walked back over.
“Well, it sounds a little silly but on a rainy night like this, I just love a cup of chamomile tea.”
JACK KNIFED Page 7
