Girl Jacked Read online

  He gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead. His voice was soft when he spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

  “You should be.” The words were softer than Jack expected, as was the hand that enclosed his, prying his fingers from the steering wheel. “But you’re here now. And we’re going to find who did this.”

  The certainty in her words calmed Jack, and he put the car in gear.

  “We will.”

  Chapter 21 ~

  Homecoming

  Jack shifted in his seat. He sat next to Replacement, and she was next to Aunt Haddie in the front row. He hated funeral homes. Subdued lighting and the scent of flowers hung in the air. The thick carpet and chairs were in neat rows. Men in suits, that you’d never met, had looks of empathy and pity carved onto their faces. He hated it all.

  People filled the funeral home. He couldn’t believe how many were there.

  How many really knew her? When someone young dies, every young kid turns out. It’s their first taste of death for someone like them, someone who shouldn’t have died. It makes them think, “It could have been me.” How many here were really her friends?

  Michelle had always been the quiet type. She was careful when she chose her friends. She wasn’t arrogant at all, but she had high standards. Friends had to be loyal, honest, and truthful. Aunt Haddie used to say if you made it out of this life with one good friend, that you were blessed. Michelle was blessed.

  Jack shifted. He forced a smile at Replacement, but she never stopped looking down at her hands. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.

  The minister had already begun the service. He was a large man with a deep voice. They sang Amazing Grace and scriptures were read. Aunt Haddie and Replacement cried.

  After they sang When the Roll is Called up Yonder, a young girl around sixteen went up to the podium. Her curly dark brown hair came down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a simple gray dress, and her eyes flittered around the room. She unfolded a page from a notebook.

  “Michelle was my mentor and my friend. I met her through the sisters . . . program where she . . . volunteered. She always tell . . . told me that I . . .” the girl said haltingly. It was obviously hard for her to read. She looked up and paused. She refolded the paper. “I’m going to start again.” She looked forward and tried to stand tall. “Michelle believed in me. She taught me to believe in myself. I loved her very much. I was shy like her, but she showed me an example of what I could be. My life is much better because of her.”

  The girl took her seat. Four more girls from all different backgrounds came up and spoke about Michelle. They talked about the Michelle Jack didn’t know. The Michelle who loved to learn and taught herself computers. The Michelle who helped her neighbors and underprivileged kids. A young woman filled with hope who passed that hope along to others.

  A tall man, over six feet, with broad shoulders and finely groomed silver hair leaned slightly on a cane as he walked forward to speak. He was in his mid-sixties, dressed in a dark blue suit, and had a bit of a belly.

  “Michelle was one of my brightest students. As evidenced by the words of the people here who knew her best, Michelle was an example for us all. She worked to create change. She was always willing to help her fellow students and workers. Her enthusiasm and spirit will be missed, but it won’t be forgotten. Her legacy will live on in her work and accomplishments.”

  The funeral director came over and looked at Replacement. Her eyes filled with fear, and she went white. Aunt Haddie patted her leg, rose, and the director and Replacement helped her make it up to the podium. She looked so old. She stood there, bent over, gripping the podium for support, and looked down for a long time.

  “Michelle,” she began, and her voice broke. Replacement squeezed Jack’s hand. “Michelle was one of my dear, dear babies. She was on loan from the Lord. She was such a precious girl. God abundantly blessed me by bringing her into my life. Michelle was truly special. The years she stayed in my home were so dear to me, but I don’t feel this is a time for sadness. Michelle is home with Jesus now.”

  Aunt Haddie paused and wiped her eyes. “I remember when Michelle and Chandler first came home to me. Michelle always looked at the positives. She was like a little ray of sunshine all bottled up. We didn’t have much, but Michelle was always looking at what we did have.”

  Everyone was trying not to break down.

  “They asked me to talk about some of my favorite memories of Michelle but how can I pick? I prayed about it. I tried to think, and then I remembered one—Michelle’s bike.

  “Michelle’s birthday was coming up, and that year we had very little. I knew Michelle had wanted a bike; she’d been saving up for it all summer.” Aunt Haddie was crying now. Replacement shifted.

  “On the morning of her birthday, Chandler and Jackie came inside, smiling ear to ear. Their hands were covered in pink paint. They’d found an old boy’s bike and they painted it bright pink. They put purple streamers on it. You’d think they both would pop the buttons off their shirts. They were so proud.”

  Jack rubbed his eyes.

  “Michelle cried and danced and cried some more. Jackie and Chandler taught her for a day, but she took to it like a fish to water. She rode that bike everywhere. I can still see her smiling face riding out in the driveway. Her little wave . . .”

  Aunt Haddie stopped, and Replacement’s hand went a little limp. Aunt Haddie looked around. “I don’t know what happened to the bike . . . she lost it . . . Michelle . . .” She stopped again.

  The funeral director looked at Replacement and then they went up to the podium and helped Aunt Haddie back to her seat. The stress of the situation had clearly gotten to her.

  Aunt Haddie turned to look at Jack and he held her gaze, but he could see the effects of Alzheimer’s. She looked at him, but he knew she didn’t really see him. Replacement stroked the back of the old woman’s hand.

  Jack looked down. That bike. Chandler and he had found it at the dump. It was a boy’s bike, and it had a flat tire. They’d stayed up all night painting it and trying to figure out the tassels. Michelle had teased them for two days because of the pink paint on their hands.

  There was a little disruption to his right as a man tried to move around people to come forward. It was so quiet any noise would have caught people’s attention. The man walked up to the podium.

  “Hello.” He coughed as he looked down and brushed back his hair with one hand. “My name is Robert, and I knew Michelle since we were kids.” He was a young man in his twenties. He had dark hair and eyes and wore a nice suit. His red eyes made it obvious he’d been crying. “It was hard hearing about Michelle’s bike.” He cleared his throat. “I know what happened to it.” He looked straight at Aunt Haddie. “I stole it.”

  The quiet room grew completely still. Jack could hear his heartbeat.

  “I was a kid, and the bike was outside the library, and I took it. I brought it home and painted it blue.” He paused to blow his nose and looked up, but no one was moving. “It didn’t matter that I painted it and pulled off the tassels. Michelle knew it was hers, and when she saw me riding it she followed me home. She came right to my front door. I thought she was going to punch me in the nose.

  “She asked me why I stole it. I said, ‘What does that matter? It’s mine now.’ She wanted to know why. She said, ‘You shouldn’t let evil things just go.’ That freaked me out. I was like, ‘I’m not evil,’ but she said, ‘Well, you’re a thief.’” The young man gripped the podium, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. “She asked me why again. I told her mine broke. The frame cracked. I couldn’t fix it, and it was just me and my mom. I begged her not to tell my mom or Chandler. I knew she was Chandler’s sister and he’d have stomped me. I told her she could have it back.

  “Then she looked at me, and I’ll never forget her face when she said, ‘You can keep it.’ I couldn’t believe it. I followed her halfway home trying to get her to take the bike back, but
she wouldn’t. She told me I should have it since I didn’t have one and since I wanted it that bad. She said God gave her a mom and two brothers and a bike. She said she should share. I was just a kid, but I never forgot that. She and I were always friends from then on.” Someone handed him a box of tissues. He blew his nose, turned, and walked back into the crowd.

  Jack’s leg started to shake. He could almost see when they were kids in the driveway, laughing with Chandler and waving to him.

  Two brothers. I love you, too, Michelle.

  The black minister rose and came forward. He began to walk to the podium and then turned and came to Aunt Haddie. The large man took the old woman’s hands in his, got down on one knee, and bowed his head. “Lord, I thank you for the time that you’ve given all of us to know Michelle. I thank you for her wonderful heart and the example she has been. Please, Father, be with us who are left here. Watch over us, guide us, and lead us to the rest that Your Son prepared for those who He has called. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.”

  Jack kept his eyes closed. The ceremony was over and people began getting up. He ran his hands through his hair, wiped his eyes, and exhaled.

  “Jack?” He turned. Michelle’s teacher in the dark blue suit held his hand out. The man had a firm handshake and a bright smile. “Please accept my condolences for your loss.”

  Slight European accent.

  “Thank you. You’re one of Michelle’s teachers at the college?”

  “Dr. Alexander Hahn. Psychology. I cannot express my sympathies strongly enough. Michelle’s contributions will be very much missed by the college and myself personally.”

  “Contributions?”

  “Michelle worked for me at the Psychology Center. She was instrumental in bringing our computer technology into the twenty-first century. I meant what I said. Her legacy will live on.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Jack shook the outstretched hand again.

  “If you have the time, you should stop by the center. You would be very proud of her work.”

  “I will. You can count on it.”

  Chapter 22 ~

  The Void Beckons

  Jack opened one eye when he heard the knock on the door but then closed it again.

  Knock. Knock.

  He started to call to Replacement but then he heard her in the shower.

  Ugh.

  He rolled himself out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor.

  “Hold on,” he called toward the apartment door as he hopped into the pants. “One sec.”

  Jack didn’t look to see who was there before he yanked open the door. He was surprised to see Joe Davenport standing there. Joe was nearing retirement, and it showed. He liked to fish more than anything, and his wrinkled face and pot belly were the result. He seemed like a good guy, and Jack liked him even though he didn’t have the best work ethic.

  “Hey, Joe. Come in.”

  Joe always wore a tan hat with a brown and white band, a cross between an old fedora and a fishing cap. “My condolences, Jack.” He shook his hand as he came in, but he only glanced at Jack’s face before turning away.

  Spill it, Joe.

  That was what he wanted to blurt out, but he decided to give the old detective some time. “What brings you around, Joe?”

  The detective put his hands in his pockets and followed Jack into the living room. “I got some good news about the phone. The tech guys got into it with that code you thought might work.”

  Jack had given Joe a possible list of numbers they should try. Of course, Jack knew which code would work, but he put it second on the list to make it look good.

  “They got in it? Great. Have they found anything?”

  “They said they’ll go over it with a fine tooth comb.” Joe had a habit of nodding his head a lot.

  Nervous tick.

  “That’s good news, Joe. Do you have anything else?”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah.” He was staring at his feet.

  This isn’t good.

  He handed Jack the manila envelope. “Toxicology.”

  Jack opened the envelope and began reading: Presence of benzaldehyde I, nitroethane, benzyl-methylnaphthalene.

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” Joe mumbled. “There’s been a huge increase in the county.”

  “An increase in what?” Jack’s frustration was turning into anger.

  “Glass meth,” Joe said the words with a shrug. “It’s ninety percent pure. They’ve even had a couple of ODs.”

  “They couldn’t have found meth. Michelle would never do it. That’s impossible.”

  “Not a lot but . . . Even a little of that stuff can make you crazy. You can get real disoriented, and if she was driving. I’ve seen—”

  “No way. Michelle would never do that crap.” Jack kept shaking his head.

  “Jack, I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t my place.”

  Jack’s head snapped up. He wanted to shout, it’s not your place. But it was.

  Joe is the lead detective. I’m the victim’s family. Joe is just doing his job. He has to point these things out. But, he’s wrong.

  “You’ve seen it first-hand, Jack. I was just reading about two kids in Nebraska who took crystal one time and ran out in the middle of a snowstorm thinking mobs of people were trying to kill them.” Joe looked back at the floor.

  Jack was numb. He wanted to explode, but his anger was nowhere to be found.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. Everything points to an accident.”

  Jack tried to think of some other argument.

  Aunt Haddie? If I say Michelle wouldn’t leave her, he’ll say she might. Would she? What do I say?

  Joe took one step forward. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll keep it open of course.” Joe looked up.

  Jack saw an old, tired cop who just wanted to make it to retirement with as little fuss as possible, but he looked sincere. Jack searched his face, but he knew Joe thought he was doing the right thing.

  “Thanks for coming by, Joe.” He leaned over and shook his hand.

  Joe walked out but paused at the door. “I just . . . I just want you to know that I did go back over everything, and I think . . . I think it is what it is.”

  Jack nodded.

  The door clicked shut, and Jack walked over and leaned on the counter. A wave of doubt crashed over him and swept his anger away.

  Meth?

  He went to get a glass of water but stopped himself. With his hand on the faucet, he listened.

  The water had stopped. The shower wasn’t running.

  He straightened bolt upright.

  He walked over to the bedroom and slowly opened the door. Replacement sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands, softly crying. He moved over and sat down next to her. She leaned against him, and he held her.

  “I don’t think . . .” he began, but she pressed her hand against his lips.

  “No, Jack. Shh, I’m just gonna think for a minute. Go take your shower.” She wiped her eyes and walked over to the door.

  Jack sat on the bed feeling stupid.

  What should I say?

  He brushed his hair back in frustration.

  “We’ll talk when I get out, okay?”

  Replacement just nodded and walked into the living room.

  For the first time in years, Jack wished he had a real guy friend. He missed Chandler all the time, but he wished Chandler were around right now. He had lots of acquaintances and colleagues but no real friends. The only people that got close to him were girls, but he never told them anything.

  Lifting his face into the water, he closed his eyes. He wanted to think, but his thoughts flew all over, scattering like scared sparrows. He felt old and tired like Joe.

  Alone.

  He stayed in the shower for a long time before he decided he should call his father. They hadn’t talked a lot recently. His father knew nothing about police work. He was a math teacher, but he could read people.

  After this was all over, he was
going down to Florida. He’d take two weeks and go visit his parents. The water was starting to run cold. Jack realized he must have been in there a while.

  He shut the water off, stood in the warm mist, and tried to calm down.

  Think of now. Screw tomorrow and yesterday, just think of now. What should you do next?

  Jack’s shoulders slumped.

  I don’t have a clue.

  “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to take such a. . .” Jack started to apologize as he came out of the bedroom, still drying his hair. He stopped. It was a familiar sight, just not with her. Replacement was standing at the front door with her bags packed.

  “Jack, I have to go.” She shrugged but didn’t look at him.

  “Hold on. Can we talk about this? Why?” Jack’s emotions shifted right to hurt.

  Slow down, Jack. She heard Joe. She’s just upset.

  “It is what it is, Jack.” She looked at him, and her eyes were glistening.

  “Don’t listen to Joe.” Jack remembered what the old detective had said on his way out. “I’m not. I was about to come out and start—”

  “It’s over, Jack. You heard him.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “No, it’s not. Michelle was just going to leave. That’s it. She did meth and drove off the road and killed herself.”

  “She didn’t. You know her.” Inside Jack felt like she was ripping him apart.

  Why? Why are you doing this?

  “I didn’t know her. I was just chasing after her. She never . . .” Her voice changed. It was getting colder. “Did you know her? Did you know her really? What was her favorite book? How about her favorite movie? Color? When did she get her first kiss? Who were her friends?”

  Jack burned now, not with anger but shame. Shame because he didn’t know these things. Shame because he never saw Replacement thought of him like this. She was hurt because he never returned, but they’d gone through so much together he thought that had changed.

  “I’m sorry.” Jack took another step forward, and she held up a hand. “Look, I’m so sorry. I know—”