Jack threw the other fifty on the floor. When he stood up and turned around, Replacement stood in the doorway. He grabbed the other box and walked out.
“Jack?” Replacement hurried to keep up with him.
He tried to breathe deeply and get the stench out of his mouth and nose.
“What?” He popped the trunk and tossed the boxes in.
“What you just did. Back there?”
Jack ripped open the door and slid behind the wheel. After she got in, they flew down the road.
“What did I do? Do you really think I’m going to come back and cut off a piece of him?”
“The way you just looked at him? Yes. That’s a definite possibility.”
“I won’t. But he doesn’t know that.”
“He could call the cops.”
“I am a cop.” Jack flashed a big smile that wasn’t returned. “Besides, he won’t. He’s a scumbag. Scumbags don’t call the cops when they get threatened. It will take awhile to take hold anyway.”
“What will?”
“What I said. Did you see the way he smiled when he thought his own daughter was dead but may have left him some money? I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to remember her.” Jack kept pushing the gas pedal down. “He didn’t even remember her name right away. He didn’t know anything about her. He won’t remember her special day. But he thinks that’s when I’m coming back. He’ll lie awake at night, trying to remember. He’ll go over every conversation that he ever had with Patty. I hope it drives him crazy, trying to figure out when it is. I hope it causes him to remember her. I hope it causes him lots of pain.”
Ripples In The Pond
Jack and Replacement munched on fresh sandwiches they picked up at a country store they came across along the side of the road. Now they were waiting outside Jeff Franklin’s apartment building. Jeff was the reporter who’d written the articles in the newspaper about his father’s death.
A small, blue, electric car finally rounded the bend and parked in front of the two-story building. Jack and Replacement hopped out of their car. The reporter shut the door and stared in their direction as they approached.
He was a small, thin man, almost the same size as Replacement. His head was bald on top and gray on the sides. Judging by his round glasses, white T-shirt, jeans, and open blue blazer, Jack would have guessed that he was a college professor.
“Can I help you?”
“I hope so. My name is Jack Stratton, and I need to ask you a few questions.”
He smiled. “I’m the one who usually says that.” Jeff laughed as he rushed over and shook their hands. “Your wife?”
Jack shook his head. “This is Alice. I was wondering—”
“Please, come on in. We might as well be comfortable.”
Jeff moved behind them so he could rush them down the brick walkway and inside the first apartment, which was his. The apartment was a brightly lit, extremely clean, open-plan layout. Light tan carpeting stretched everywhere, and a tiled kitchen was in the back.
“Please.” He held his hands out and gestured to the couch. “What do you want to know?”
“I’m doing some research about the Steven Ritter case.”
“Steven Ritter. The boy killed at Buckmaster? Are you a writer?”
“I’m interested in the case.”
Jeff walked into the kitchen and gathered glasses. “I wrote most of the main articles on that story. I’m mostly retired now. That case was never solved. Shame. Biggest story the town ever had.”
“Did you talk to the people involved?”
He returned, carrying three glasses and a pitcher.
“I interviewed everyone. Most twice. Iced tea?”
“Yes, please.” Replacement leaned forward. “Did anyone stand out?”
Jack smiled.
“No.” He shrugged and rolled his eyes. “There was extremely little information on that case. The kid was a Boy Scout. Literally. No dirt on him. No enemies. I searched for anything related to it. Zilch.”
“What about the call reporting it? The police report just said it was a female,” Replacement asked.
“That’s all they had. Emergency calls weren’t recorded back then. They didn’t even have 911. You saw the police report?”
Jack ignored the question. “Jeff,” Jack’s eyes locked with the old man’s, “did you find anything that you didn’t print?”
“Well,” he swirled his glass and stared down, “it was just a rumor of a rumor. I didn’t feel right printing it.”
He looked out the window.
“Everything about that kid was squeaky clean, but I did hear that Steven may have been ‘involved’ with a girl.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Patricia Cole. She had a reputation of being the town trollop.”
Replacement blurted out, “Patricia Cole is Jack’s mother.” But the warning came a second too late.
The reporter looked as though he’d suddenly messed his pants. His eyes went wide, and his hand trembled as he brushed his remaining gray hair.
“My apologies, sir. I had no idea…”
“Your articles stopped so suddenly. Why?”
Jack’s tone was ice cold.
“Um…I want to apologize again. I really—”
“Don’t. If you’re sorry, answer the question.”
“I wasn’t getting anywhere,” Jeff continued. “There wasn’t any new information. I’m sorry. I tried to keep the story going, but it just faded. After the chief died—”
“When did he die?”
“Oh, six months after the murder. He had a heart attack at home. Mable, his wife, thought that case killed him. I’d have to agree. It really changed him. He worked that case like it was his own son who had been killed.”
Jack sat back on the couch and sighed.
“Ripples in the pond,” Jack muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t think about the toll on other people.” Jack rubbed his hand on his leg. “One event, but far-reaching effects.”
“I did a piece on that. I followed everyone who was affected by one particular arson case. The families who had to move. Two ended up getting divorced. The arsonist went to prison. His wife committed suicide and—sorry.”
“Did you ever interview a Terry?” Replacement tapped her glass.
Jeff looked up and to the right and squinted.
“I think that was one of Steven’s friend’s names. Terry.”
“Martinez?”
“That’s it. Yes. I don’t think he was around then, though. Parents moved or something. Where did you get the Terry tip?”
“It’s not a tip.” Jack set down his glass.
“Are you looking into the case? Did something similar happen in another town? A copycat?”
“No. No.” Jack shook his head. “It’s just research. Is there anything else you can tell us? Anyone you know who might have some more information?”
“Henry Cooper. He’s still around. Lives right across from the library.”
“How does he know the case?”
“He was the first officer on the scene. He found Steven. He might not be talkative.” Jeff raised his eyebrows.
“Why would that be?”
“Henry Cooper? The Peterson drowning? Father and son on a snowmobile?”
Jack looked at Replacement and they both shook their heads that they weren’t familiar with it.
“Big news around here. Brian and Jarred Peterson were snowmobiling on Houtt’s Pond. A snowmobile went through the ice. Cooper was the first cop on the scene. He managed to save the boy, but Brian, the father, died. The problem was Cooper started talking to a TV reporter right afterward and she smelled the whiskey on his breath. Chief had to fire him.”
“Which chief?” Replacement put her head in her hand.
“Dennis Junior.”
“How long ago was this?”
“It was ten years ago this past winter. I did a ten-year anniversary piece
about it.”
“Well, thank you for your time, sir.”
“You didn’t mention why you’re looking into this. Can you elaborate?”
“It’s…”
“We’re doing some research for a family tree.” Replacement smiled.
Heart Of Gold
That night they had dinner in the inn, and quickly headed upstairs to go through the boxes from the Cole house. The first box was filled with mementos that must have belonged on shelves: old stuffed animals, a trophy from an elementary spelling bee, and another one from gymnastics. A picture frame surrounded by hearts held a picture of Patricia when she was only five or six, hugging a slender, smiling woman.
My other grandmother.
The woman looked a little like his mother, but she had a rounder face. Her smile was broad and they both looked quite happy. The glass in the frame was gone, but Jack could see small broken pieces that still clung to the wood. The other box had two high school math books on top. Underneath was a stack of teen magazines from thirty years ago. At the bottom was a yearbook. Replacement lifted it out, puzzled.
“It’s a yearbook from middle school? They do that?”
Jack returned the puzzled look.
“You went, right?”
“Aunt Haddie decided to homeschool me.”
“Why?” Jack sat on the edge of the bed.
“Middle school sucked.” Replacement stood up.
“Why?”
“You and Chandler were in the Army. Michelle tried, but… It doesn’t matter.”
“Hey, I’d like to know.”
“Really?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Are you kidding me? Please,” Jack encouraged her.
“Okay.” She leaned against the bureau. “There were these four girls: Beth, Karen, Jordan, and Stacy. They were mean. I had nothing to do with them, but they were picking on Fat Faith.” She touched her chest with her hand. “I never called her that, but they did. Anyway, they were picking on her, and I told them to stop.”
She put her foot on the bed. “Then it began. I became the new target. Being the new kid, and a foster kid, and a small, weird kid…it was bad. They wouldn’t stop. They’d chase me and I got my butt beat, like, three times. They wouldn’t leave me alone. Aunt Haddie didn’t know, and if I told Michelle, she’d have kicked their asses, but the next time…” Her shoulders popped up and down.
“What did you do?”
Jack lay sideways on the bed.
“I went to Beth’s house. She was like the leader. I figured I could take her, one on one. I thought if I could shut her up, the rest would leave me alone.”
“Makes sense.”
She smiled and stood straight. “So, I knocked on the door, and Beth opened it. I punched her in the face.”
“In her doorway?”
“Yeah. So she screamed and fell down. I jumped on top of her and pinned her hands down. I just wanted her to promise she’d stop. She was screaming, and then her mother came running.”
“You took off?”
“I tried to, but she jumped in front of the door. I told her to move, and she pushed me. So I hit her—”
“Her mother?”
“She hit me first.”
“You said she pushed you.”
“It was a pushy hit. You know? And she was big. So she went screaming into the kitchen, and I ran home.”
“And?”
“And, she was a member of some school board. So it was all police and principals, and Aunt Haddie went nuts until I told her they were the ones who kept beating me up. Beth’s mother said she’d make my life hell in school, and Aunt Haddie said, ‘No you won’t.’ So…homeschooling. I liked it.”
“Sorry, kid. You’re right. That did suck. Can I ask you something?”
“Only if I can ask you something back.” Her head wobbled back and forth.
“Fine. What do you want to ask me?”
“Did you ever get in fights in school?”
“Tons of them. You heard what everyone is saying about Patty? I made the mistake of telling a ‘friend’ that Patty was a prostitute. He told the whole school. That’s when my dad signed me up for karate.”
“But your dad let you fight?”
“He didn’t want me to fight; he wanted me to walk away. But you know, sometimes they don’t let you walk away. If that was the case, he wanted me to win.”
Jack smiled, and Replacement laughed.
“Did you ever lose?”
“Anyone can get beat in a fight. One lucky punch can change everything.”
“You never got picked on.”
Jack saw the hurt in her eyes.
“I did. Marvin Mulldoon, the biggest creep you’ll ever meet. He was a foot taller than me, and he hated me.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
“But Chandler was around then.”
Jack paused.
“Like you said, you can’t let someone else fight your battles. Chandler wanted to kill him, but I wouldn’t let him.”
“What did you do?”
Jack lay on his back. “I’m not proud of this. It was wrong.”
“What?” Replacement jumped on the bed and leaned over him.
“Marvin was big, but there’s always someone bigger. There was this family in town. The Silenskis. There were like ten boys. They were all crazy. They lived on a farm on the edge of town. Some of the younger ones rode their bikes to school. A bike then was like your car. It was a big thing. So…”
“You stole one of their bikes and framed Marvin?” Replacement grinned.
“Nope. I thought of that, but Marvin had just gotten a new bike, so I stole Marvin’s bike seat, and I put it on Jeremy Silenski’s bike.
“Marvin came out like we always did and ran over to his bike. There was no seat. I was close by so he grabbed me. When he did, I looked over to Jeremy’s bike. Marvin ran over and started taking his seat back. Jeremy saw Marvin messing with his bike, and when he ran over, Marvin punched Jeremy in the face.”
“And Jeremy’s brothers?”
“It was the weirdest thing. Jeremy started doing this wacky call. Like a hunter calling birds. It must have been the danger signal for his family tribe or something. Silenskis came running from everywhere. It took ten teachers to pull them off Marvin.”
“Was he okay?”
“Not for a while. I told you, it was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Did he leave you alone?”
“For a little while but…no.”
“Did someone tell him you did it?”
“I bet he figured it out. But when he started up again, Chandler had enough. Marvin told everyone he was going to beat me up after school. He only made it to gym class. Chandler smashed him into a wall and told him if he ever looked at me again he’d never be found.”
“I thought you said you can’t let someone else fight your battles.”
“I didn’t say they wouldn’t.”
Jack reached out and messed up her hair.
“Hey.” She scooted off the bed. “You’ll never grow up.”
“Nope. Can I take a look?” He reached out for the yearbook.
“After me.”
She lay back down next to him and opened the old yearbook. It was small and yellowed with age. The front had water spots, and it smelled of mildew as she opened it.
Replacement’s nose crinkled. “How about we look at this…not on my bed?”
She scooted off and went to the desk. Jack moved to look over her shoulder. They found twelve pictures of Patricia and two of Steven. In every picture, she was beaming.
“Looks like a happy kid,” Jack muttered.
“I feel bad for her.” Replacement didn’t look at Jack.
Jack’s chest tightened.
She was a happy kid before her mother died and her father…
Replacement flipped to the back and, pressed between the pages, was a homemade card.
She carefully
lifted out the red construction paper valentine. It was in the shape of a heart with three arrows going through it from left to right.
“Three arrows—that’s a lot of love.” Replacement giggled. “PC & DJ. That’s sweet.”
“She kept it. It was special to her. DJ? Do you have the other yearbook?”
“This is from middle school, Jack.”
“We’ll rule it out then.”
“Okay, Spock.”
Jack grabbed a high school yearbook and flipped to the Js.
“You, too.” He waved his hand at her yearbook.
After a few minutes, they both closed their books.
“Zip.”
“Nada. No DJ.”
“Time for bed.” Replacement fell back and rolled around. “I love this bed.”
“It’s awesome.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, but…”
“What?” Replacement looked at him, concerned.
“Your snoring kept me—”
Replacement sat bolt upright in the bed and burst into tears.
“What?” Jack rushed to her.
“Do I?”
“What?”
“Snore?”
Jack doubled over, laughing.
“You’re kidding? You’re kidding. You suck. You suck, Jack Stratton.”
She jumped off the bed and stormed into the bathroom.
“Hey!” Jack followed her to the closed door. “I’m sorry. Come on.”
She yanked the door open and stomped by.
“Ha-ha,” she snapped.
“Lighten up.”
“I don’t know if I do, and no one ever said anything. Girls wonder about that stuff.” She climbed under the covers and pulled them up tight under her chin.
“It’s just a joke. You don’t snore…much.” Jack laughed. She punched him. “I’m kidding. I’ll stop. Promise.”
He went to change into his pajamas, but when he came back, she still looked perturbed. “You still owe me my question.” Jack slid into bed.
“What?”
“What happened? How did you end up at Aunt Haddie’s?”
Replacement rolled over so she could look at Jack. She stared at his face for several minutes.
JACK KNIFED Page 15
