JACK AND THE GIANT KILLER

by Christopher Greyson

  “No, thanks. Maybe she’ll help.”

  Jack headed upstairs while Mrs. Stevens watched him go. When he reached the apartment door, his hand stayed on the doorknob so long Lady whined. He walked in only to find the living room empty. His bedroom door was open, but Replacement’s was closed. He hurried through the apartment to make sure she wasn’t in another room before he came back to stand outside her door.

  He knocked softly. “Alice? We’re back.”

  As he waited, he could feel his skin go cold.

  “I’m not feeling well. Please stay out.” Her voice was so soft he strained to hear it.

  “Alice? Can we talk?”

  Lady trotted over to her bowl and began to drink noisily. Anger flashed inside Jack, and he forced himself to let his head rest against the doorjamb. Lady doesn’t know. She’s just being a dog. Please, Alice, let me in.

  “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Please?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  Jack rubbed his neck. Don’t push it. Give her time. She’s not crying. Give her time.

  “Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”

  He took a half-hour shower. When he came out, Replacement’s door was still closed. He spent the rest of the night looking over the reports while eyeing her closed door. Several times he intercepted Lady as she headed over to scratch it. He’d been tempted to let her, but he kept going back to one thought—just be there for her.

  At eleven thirty, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He didn’t really sleep the night before and it was taking its toll on him. He took Lady out and then hesitated for the umpteenth time outside Replacement’s door before he headed to bed. Lady flopped in the corner and Jack lay there, staring into the darkness. After fifteen minutes, he heard her door open. He froze.

  Should I go out there? Is she coming to talk to me?

  As he lay there motionless, he strained to hear any noise from the living room. He heard the squeak of the computer chair’s wheels and then the faint click of keys. He shut his eyes and focused on the sound but soon drifted off to sleep.

  Lady whined, and Jack’s eyes fluttered and closed again. He heard a beep and a click from the bathroom but before he thought about rolling over, he fell back asleep.

  The distinct click of the front door closing caused him to open his eyes. Lady barked. Jack threw the blankets back, jumped out of bed, and raced into the living room.

  Empty.

  Replacement’s bedroom door was open. He dashed over to it. Her bed was unmade, and she was gone. He exhaled when he saw the family picture on her bureau and her jacket on the hook.

  She’s coming back.

  He hurried over to the window and saw brake lights at the end of the road. In the light of the street lamp, he saw her little blue Bug drive away.

  Damn.

  Jack stood there holding the curtain back and looking at the empty street. Muttering, he flopped into the computer chair.

  Damn it. She keeps getting further and further away from me. Shutting me out. If she keeps building this wall, she’ll eventually never let me in.

  Jack put his elbows on the desk and let his head fall into his hands. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and he looked up. He must have moved the mouse because the monitor flickered on. The screen was covered in windows. In one, there was a picture of a thin, smiling man in his fifties. Jack read the name—Spencer Griffin. It was the photograph Replacement was looking at before she punched him in the nose.

  In another window was a map of the west side of Darrington, just past the Pine Creek golf course. A circle with a star highlighted 7 Meadow Drive. The window to the left showed a street view of a split-level garrison house with the same address highlighted. Another window was filled with text. Jack’s throat tightened when he saw “STATUTE OF LIMITATION OF SEXUAL BATTERY OF A CHILD” highlighted.

  His hand shook as he reached for the mouse. Behind the tiled windows, he saw one more. He could only see the green eyes of the little girl in the picture, but he’d know Replacement’s emerald green eyes no matter how old she was. He clicked on the bar and the page shifted to the front.

  It’s her file.

  The words popped off the page as he stared at the picture of the girl with the tear-stained face: “not pursuing the case against Spencer Griffin due to the chain of evidence and the potential trauma to the victim.”

  She’s looking for him.

  Jack’s hand froze on the mouse when the computer beeped. He remembered a similar mechanical beep when he was half-asleep. That beep when Alice was in the bathroom.

  He spun around and through the open doorway to his room, he saw a folded piece of paper on his bureau. He rushed over and opened it: JACK. YOU’RE RIGHT. HE WON’T STOP HURTING CHILDREN. I’M SORRY. ALICE.

  In two strides, he slammed the bathroom door open, and he nearly ripped the bottom cabinet’s door off its hinges. His fingers flew across the buttons of the little safe tucked behind the towels. It beeped and opened with a click.

  She has my gun.

  Jack flew into the hallway, grabbed his keys and phone, and raced for the Charger. The stones dug into his bare feet as he sprinted across the gravel parking lot. The Charger bellowed in protest as Jack kept the gas pedal flat to the floor when he started the engine and slammed it into reverse. Gravel pinged off the underbelly as he shot out of the parking lot backward.

  He spun the steering wheel, rammed the transmission into drive, and stomped on the gas. Tires smoked. The Charger’s engine roared, and the car flew forward. He drove with one hand while he fumbled with the phone with the other. Replacement’s voicemail clicked in.

  “Alice, don’t. Don’t do it. Please.”

  7 Meadow Drive. It’s the other side of Pine Creek golf course.

  Car horns blared as he barreled through the intersections. He raced onto Main Street and the trees flew by him in a blur.

  “I’ll take care of him. Trust me, Alice. Don’t you do it. Don’t.”

  Click.

  Her voicemail shut off. Jack mentally mapped the fastest way there, but each route would take him the long way around the huge golf course. The Charger’s tires shrieked as he flew onto Old Oaken Bucket. It was a dead end, but he could picture the chain-link fence at the end as the road sped by beneath his headlights.

  I can’t go around the golf course. It’ll take too much time.

  The headlights illuminated the fence a second before the Charger smashed through it. The gate burst open. The passenger side of the windshield spiderwebbed as the metal cracked it and flew over the car. The small lane for golf carts was just wide enough for the Charger, but Jack only stayed on it for a moment. He’d worked security for a golf tournament there and he knew the ninth fairway led straight back to the clubhouse and Meadow Drive.

  He struggled to keep the Charger from skidding; driving on the damp grass was like racing on a frozen lake. Sand traps loomed ahead and he cut the wheel. Momentum carried the car forward despite his best efforts to turn. He locked up the brakes. He heard them kick on, but they did nothing to slow his speed.

  He straightened out the wheels and pinned the gas pedal to the floor. In the darkness, he felt the car’s tires leave the ground as he raced up and over the slope. He didn’t know the course well enough to even guess where he was about to land. He didn’t care. He just needed to get to Alice.

  As the nose dipped down, he saw grass and tar for a second before the tires hit. The impact didn’t set off the airbag, but his chest slammed into the seat belt and pain shot through his side. He screamed out, and he fought to turn the car as it barreled toward a huge oak.

  He yanked the wheel to the right. The tree passed by and vanished into the darkness. Exhaling, he slumped into the seat belt. His side burned. The fire from his recently healed muscles and tissues reignited, and he groaned.

  The darkened clubhouse loomed up on his right atop the large hill. He barreled down the little path toward another chain-link fence. More glass brok
e, but the gate blew open as the Charger rammed through.

  One right, then Meadow is the first left.

  The only headlight still working was kicked up at an angle and it illuminated the street sign right before he turned. At the end of the dead-end street, he saw the little blue Bug. He flew up behind it, skidded to a stop and hurried out.

  Replacement sat in the front seat. He slowly approached the open window. She didn’t look up. Her head was down. His gun was in her hand.

  “Alice,” he whispered as he reached in and took the gun. “I’m here.” He opened the door.

  She didn’t move. He picked her up and slid her over to the passenger seat. As he got in the car, he looked up at the dark house. “Did you go in?”

  Please, no.

  She nodded.

  Dear God…

  “Alice.” Jack closed his eyes. When he opened them, he knew what he’d do. “Alice, did you touch anything inside?”

  She shook her head.

  He shut the car door. “Are you sure?” He started the Bug. “Look, I did it. Do you understand? You need to tell them it was me. I found out what happened to you, and I flew into a rage.”

  “No.” Her voice cracked and tears fell onto the back of her hands.

  “Alice, you have to. I’m taking you home. I need to go fire my gun so I have trace powder on my hands. They already have my bullets in ballistics. If I confess—”

  “No.” Replacement turned to him and burst into tears. “I didn’t kill him. He’s not even there.”

  Jack pulled her close. She clutched his shirt and wept bitterly. He stroked her hair and leaned his head against hers. She gasped and pulled away.

  “Take me home,” she whispered.

  He turned the car around.

  “He wasn’t there.” Replacement shook. “He hasn’t been there for a while. There’s one of those stupid mail slots. I didn’t think they did that anymore…” She leaned her head against the window and didn’t say another word.

  Jack drove back to the apartment. He made a list of what he needed to do. He ran around the car and gently lifted Replacement out. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her up the stairs to his bed.

  After he wrapped her in the blankets, he went to the bathroom, put the gun in the safe, and switched the code.

  He heard his bed creak. When he turned back around, he saw Lady had jumped up on it and was now nuzzling up against Replacement. Replacement’s whole body shook as she wept. Jack sat on the edge of the bed for the next hour and stroked her hair. Finally, she fell asleep.

  Jack slowly got up, slipped out the door, and raced toward Mrs. Stevens’s apartment to beg her for a ride so he could go back and get the Charger.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Something Worse

  Jack leaned against the bureau and watched Replacement sleep. Her mouth twitched on occasion, as did her feet. Each time, Lady raised her head, watched her for a few moments, and then put her head back down with a satisfied huff.

  Be there for her.

  Jack hung his head. He felt helpless.

  She’s right—I can’t fix her, but everyone’s fixable. She’s strong. She can get through this. Please, God, help her.

  He opened his eyes and Replacement was staring at him. He started to move forward and she held up her hand.

  “Please.” Jack’s voice broke. “Please don’t shut me out.”

  Replacement closed her eyes. Lady nuzzled her back. Replacement pulled the blanket tightly around her and then nodded. She started to speak, but kept her eyes closed. “After my family died, they moved me around a lot. But one time it was a salesman and his wife. I was the only kid. They lived in this huge white house. It was like a castle. I had my own room. Everything was pink and purple. That woman would brush my hair.”

  Jack couldn’t help but cringe when she said that woman. He heard the bitterness in her voice. Replacement must have called her something else once, but now, that woman was all she could say.

  “They took me on trips and, after a while, I was really happy but…one night…” Her eyes squeezed even tighter closed. “He molested me. I just broke. I just died inside.” She buried her face in the sheets. After a minute, she spoke again. “It went on for a long time.”

  She opened her eyes. Jack pushed himself forward, and she shook her head. His fingers dug into his palms as he forced himself to stop.

  “I was so afraid. I would just lie there, and in the morning he pretended like everything was normal. Then one night…I started screaming. He tried to stop me, but I was just hysterical.” She looked at Jack. “The woman ran in. She made him leave the room, and then I told her everything.” Her lips trembled. “She called me a liar. She said I made it all up.” She broke down.

  Jack hung his head. It was torture for him to sit there helpless and listen to her cry.

  “That night I ran away and went to the first cop I could find. That’s how I ended up at Aunt Haddie’s.” Her mouth twisted in pain. “Do you remember when we stopped at the mini-market, and the orange juice broke? I saw him in the parking lot. I always thought he’d go to prison forever.” She coughed. “How stupid. I hear the news. I know better, but I just thought…”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t even go to prison. They said it was because of me. It would cause me too much trauma. What the hell does that mean?” She pointed at herself. “How much more trauma could it have caused me? And then when you said child molesters don’t stop, they’re like serial killers, and they just keep doing it, I knew I had to stop him. But the statute of limitations ran out. So I decided to…” Her shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Why?” The word escaped Jack’s lips.

  He strained to understand her words. “Because you’d kill him. I know you. You’d have taken the blame and gone to prison if I did kill him. You were going to in the car.” She covered her eyes. “Why do you love me?”

  Jack rushed to her side and swept her up in his arms. She lay there and wept. He held her until she could cry no more, and then he held onto her long past that. When her breathing finally deepened and he was sure she was asleep, he pulled the blanket back up around her, and he slipped out of the room.

  **********

  Jack dialed the phone number from the old business card.

  “Joy Perez.”

  Six years had passed, but when he heard her voice, he pictured her standing before the Army intelligence briefing. She sounded the same. Joy left the Army shortly before him. He heard she was still using her skills to intercept communications, but now she worked for the Department of Justice and their child pornography division.

  “Joy? I don’t know if you remember me, but I served with you in Iraq. My name—”

  “It’s been too long, Jack.”

  Jack sighed. “I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I need to ask you a favor.”

  He spent the next hour detailing Replacement’s story and Spencer Griffin. He read the data from the reports Replacement found. Besides an occasional question, the only sound from Joy’s end of the phone was her typing notes.

  When he finished, there was a long pause. “I consider any case concerning a child as personal,” Joy began, “and after what you did for me, Jack—” He heard her inhale and pictured her trying to regain her composure.

  “You’re the one who saved our lives, Joy. I really appreciate this.”

  “I’ll let you know whatever I find out.” There was another pause. “You said she’s Chandler’s foster sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  Jack hung up.

  Once she called in an AC-130 gunship and brought down hell on earth. I hope she can do it again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  My Mom Told Me

  He pulled on a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers and headed for the bathroom. He opened the lower cabinet, shoved the towels aside and punched the code on the safe. The handle didn’t budge. He entere
d it again, but it still wouldn’t open. His hands went to the side of his head.

  I changed the code because of Replacement. He tried every combination he could think of, but the handle refused to turn. Damn it. I was so freaked out last night I can’t remember the stupid password.

  He tried one more time and put the towels back. Jack walked out of the bathroom and Replacement rolled over in the bed to face him. Her green eyes were red-rimmed, but she wasn’t crying. She sat up, put her feet on the floor, and lowered her eyes.

  “Where do I even start apologizing?” she whispered.

  Jack walked over and squatted down in front of her. He put his hands on either side of her legs and peered up at her. “Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I didn’t tell you.”

  “You weren’t ready.” Jack smiled. And you thought I’d kill him.

  She closed her eyes. “If he had been home…”

  Jack didn’t say anything. She looked at him.

  “He wasn’t.” He brushed back her hair.

  She squeezed his arm. “I would have killed him.”

  He lifted her chin. “But you didn’t.”

  She lay back down and looked out the window. Jack stroked her hair. “I can’t let him hurt anyone else,” she said.

  Jack took her hand. “He won’t. I’m already working on it. I promise you he won’t.” He felt her tremble.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got to run some errands. Please just take it easy today. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Can I borrow your car?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  Jack kissed her forehead and stood up. “I thought I’d try a little softer approach. How threatening is a guy in a little blue Bug?”

  He quietly closed the door, took the keys to the Bug, and hurried down the stairs. On the way out, he stopped by Mrs. Stevens’s apartment, and she rushed to the door.

  Her red hair bobbed back and forth as she nervously wrung her hands. “How’s Alice?”

  “Much better. I really can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Stevens.”

  “Don’t be silly. She’s an angel and so are you, Mr. Stratton.” She grabbed him, pulled him close, and gave him a huge bear hug. He blushed when she kissed his cheek.