Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Read online

  “So she looked at me, and I’ll never forget her face. She was smiling, and she said, ‘You can keep it.’ I couldn’t believe it.” He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. The room rustled and little murmurs and gasps rose like birdsong.

  “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 cuz I didn’t have one. She said God gave her a mom and two brothers and a bike and wanted her to share. We were just kids, but I never forgot that. We were always friends after that… I mean, I hope I was a good friend to her.”

  Someone handed him a tissue. He blew his nose, turned, and walked back into the crowd.

  Two brothers. I love you too, Michelle.

  Jack could almost see Michelle riding down the driveway, after she got good at riding, waving to him and Chandler, laughing on her way to an innocent little-girl adventure… Aunt Haddie, composed for the moment, put her hand on his thigh for a second to stop its violent shaking.

  The minister rose, began to walk to the podium, then turned and came to Aunt Haddie. The large black man got down on one knee, covered her gnarled hands in his, and bowed his head.

  “Lord, we thank you for the time you’ve given all of us to know Michelle. We 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 whom He has called. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.” Aunt Haddie quickly repeated “Amen,” and then some others whispered, “Amen.” The ceremony was over.

  Jack kept his eyes closed while people got up and made their way out or gathered to talk to friends. In the front row, the three of them just sat for a while, breathing, thinking, silently screaming.

  Someone said his name and Jack reluctantly opened his eyes and turned toward the voice. It was Michelle’s teacher, the dignified man with a cane and a European accent.

  “Please accept my condolences for your loss.”

  The man had a firm handshake and a confident air.

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

  “Dr. Alexander Hahn. Psychology. In fact, she worked directly under me. Michelle’s contributions will be very much missed by the college and myself personally.”

  “Contributions?”

  “Michelle was instrumental in bringing our computer technology into the twenty-first century. I meant that. Her legacy will live on.”

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

  “If you have the time, stop by the center and I will give you a tour. You would be very proud of her work.”

  “Thank you, I will. You can count on it.”

  23

  The Void Beckons

  Jack opened one eye but then closed it again.

  The knocking continued. Replacement’s tuneless singing wafted from the shower.

  “Hold on!” he called, rolling himself out of bed. “One sec!” He hopped into a pair of sweatpants and grabbed a clean T-shirt.

  When Jack yanked open the door, he was surprised to see the potbelly and wrinkled, resigned face of Joe Davenport, the inches-away-from-retirement detective assigned to Michelle’s case.

  “Hey, Joe. Come on in. What brings you around?”

  Joe lifted off the tan hat he always wore, a cross between an old fedora and a fishing cap. “My condolences, Jack.” He shook Jack’s hand but only glanced at Jack’s face.

  Spill it, Joe.

  The detective followed Jack into the living room. “I got some good news about the phone. The tech guys were able to get into it with one of the codes you gave us.”

  Jack had given Joe a list of possible pins they should try. Of course, Jack knew which one would work, because Replacement had told him Michelle’s pin, but he put it second on the list to make it look good.

  “They got in? 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 tic.

  He handed Jack a manila envelope. “Toxicology.”

  Jack opened the envelope and read, “Presence of benzaldehyde, nitroethane, benzyl-methylnaphthalene.” Glass meth.

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

  Jack nodded, thinking, No way. Not Michelle.

  Joe said, “Ninety percent pure. They’ve had an increase in ODs, too.”

  “Not meth. That’s impossible. Michelle would never—”

  “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… even good kids go off the rails sometimes. 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—for better or worse—was the lead detective. He has to point these things out. But he’s wrong.

  “You’ve seen it firsthand, Jack. I was just reading about two kids in Wisconsin who took crystal one time and ran out in the middle of a snowstorm, thinking mobs of people were trying to kill them. They froze to death.”

  They both looked down at the floor.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. Everything points to an accident. I’ll keep it open, of course.”

  Jack searched his face, and he knew Joe thought he was doing the right thing.

  “Thanks for coming by, Joe.” He held out his hand.

  Joe shook it and then turned to go. But he 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 to listen. The shower wasn’t running anymore.

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

  “How much did you hear? 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. “We’ll talk when I get out, okay?”

  Replacement just nodded as she left.

  Jack missed Chandler all the time, of course, but right now he really missed him. He had lots of acquaintances, plenty of colleagues—some whom he respected—but no real friends. The only people who wanted to get close were women, and he couldn’t open up to them.

  He stayed in the shower for a long time. He wanted to think, but his thoughts flew all over like scared sparrows. He felt old and tired. Alone and… alone.

  When the hot water finally gave out, the blast of icy water revived him a little. He wasn’t alone, and Replacement was a great researcher. Joe’s call had really been just a courtesy call; Jack wasn’t on the case and he didn’t have a clue what to do next, but he had to do something.

  You don’t just let evil go. He didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to keep from blowing his brains out.

  He dressed and came out of the bedroom, still drying his hair. Replacement was standing at the front door with her bags packed.

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

  “Hold on. Why?” Jack’s emotions shifted right to hurt, like the hot water suddenly turned off.

  “It is what it is, Jack.” Her eyes glistened.

  “Don’t listen to Joe. I’m not. I was about to—”

  “It’s over, Jack. You heard him. Michelle did meth and drove off the road and killed herself.”

  “That’s stupid!” he yelled. “You knew her
!” He wasn’t sure where the anger was coming from.

  “I didn’t know her. I was just chasing after her. I didn’t know her.”

  “That’s not true.” Jack took a step toward her.

  Replacement’s green eyes were hard. “Did you know her?”

  “Yes,” he said, desperate to contradict her.

  “Really?” Her voice changed; grew colder. “What was her favorite book? Color? When did she get her first kiss? Who were her friends?”

  Jack burned, not with anger but shame, because he didn’t know these things; because Replacement thought of him this way.

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

  “What do you know? You don’t know crap. You think she wouldn’t leave Aunt Haddie? Why? You did. Michelle is like you in that. She got her chance to go, and she took it. That’s what I’m doing, too.”

  “Don’t—” He wasn’t sure how to finish, and she pounced on it.

  “Don’t what?” Her mouth was twisted. “Don’t tell you the truth?” She glared; the tears had vanished, along with any trace of warmth.

  Jack wanted to become as detached as she was. He could let her leave, and go back to the way things were. He could get a bottle and leap headfirst into the void. He closed his eyes. His mouth was dry, his throat was tight. They were on the edge of a cliff, and Replacement was about to jump off. Somehow she’d talked him down before; he had to pull her back now.

  “Say what you want to me. You’re right. I didn’t know her. You did. But you need to know this. You walk out that door, and you’ll bury Michelle in your head. You’ll bury her in your heart. You’ll lose all the times you had with her because you can’t look at them, because you won’t be able to look at yourself. I know that. That’s… that’s what I did with Chandler.”

  Replacement’s shoulders trembled, and her hands shook as she covered her face. Jack didn’t hesitate. He stepped over to her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her protectively. She pushed her face against his chest and sobbed.

  After a few minutes, Jack led her to the bed and felt her legs wobble. She curled into a ball. He reached around her, turned off the light, and rubbed her shoulders until she cried herself to sleep.

  Jack began a new list: Talk to Mark Reynolds, an undercover cop, who could help him find the meth dealers. Then go back out to the psychology center…

  Pain immobilizes people; locks them in place so they spend days, years, and lifetimes held captive.

  Jack knew pain. He and pain were old friends. And he knew from long experience, there’s only one way to deal with pain: Hunt it down and kill it.

  24

  Aluminum Foil and Other Kitchen Stuff

  Jack was dressed and in the kitchen by 8:30. He wanted to get going, but he waited for Replacement to get up for the day.

  He looked down at the two plates of food he’d laid out on the counter. Yesterday, to his surprise, he’d found that Mrs. Stevens had left four bags of food outside his door. He was no cook, but he was pretty proud of his scrambled eggs and toast—courtesy of Aunt Haddie.

  He opened and closed cabinets, but he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He checked beside the refrigerator and on top of it. Nothing. He pulled open the drawer under the stove and found a baking sheet. Though he couldn’t remember ever using it, the cookie sheet was rusted in places, and covered with black, charred splotches. He had an idea.

  He grabbed a roll of aluminum foil and covered the whole sheet. Then he found two red napkins that looked like they came from a Chinese restaurant, which they probably did, and carefully laid them over the tray, put Replacement’s plate on it, and arranged the fork and knife.

  He poured a glass of orange juice, added it to the tray, and stood back to survey his handiwork.

  Hopefully it’s the thought that counts.

  He picked up the tray and walked into the bedroom. Only a small mound indicated there might be a person underneath the flowery white-and-purple comforter.

  “Good morning,” Jack said.

  After a couple of seconds, Replacement pulled back a corner of the comforter, and one green eye peeked out. She sat bolt upright and burst out crying.

  Mystified, Jack set the tray on the bureau and sat down on the bed.

  Replacement grabbed him and pulled herself close, pressed her face into his neck, and sniffled and blubbered all over him as she attempted to speak. Jack could only make out every couple of words. Her nose was so stuffed up, she couldn’t breathe. He jumped up, grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom, and brought it back.

  “Thank you,” she said, more clearly now. “I’m so sorry. I…”

  Jack held out the breakfast tray, eager to get her to stop crying. “It will get cold.”

  Replacement took the tray and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she picked up the fork and started to eat.

  Jack watched her as if she were an IED that could go off at any second. After she’d taken several bites, Jack relaxed and leaned against the bureau.

  “Wait.” Replacement’s voice broke. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Replacement’s lip trembled, and she set her fork down.

  “I made one for me too. I’ll go get it.” He returned a few seconds later with his own plate. Satisfied, Replacement nodded and started to eat again.

  After a few mouthfuls, she lifted her head and gave a sad smile, swallowing a sob. “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.” Just don’t cry again! “I was thinking you could sleep in this morning. So after you’ve eaten, you can just watch TV or sleep. I’m going to run a couple of errands.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “We need some stuff. Aluminum foil, kitchen stuff.”

  “Okay.”

  They ate in silence, and Jack had to force himself to slow down so he would finish at the same time she did.

  “All right.” He put his plate on hers, took the tray, and set it down. “Back to bed with you.”

  Replacement scooted back under the covers and Jack pulled the comforter up.

  “Good?” he said awkwardly.

  She sat partway up and caught him before he could avoid the little kiss she planted on his cheek. “Good.” Then she smiled and rolled over.

  Jack hurried out of the room. He’d already put his holster in the hallway near the door. Some other time maybe he could decipher the strange bundle of contradictions known as Replacement—or Alice. Right now, he didn’t want her to know where he was going or why.

  Jack couldn’t have asked for a better excuse to get into the psychology center, but he still had to be careful, invite or not. If he asked too many questions, someone could call the sheriff, and calls from the university always went to critical mass on Collins’s radar. WRE paid the most taxes, and any issue there brought the most heat.

  He turned off White Spruce Road and onto General Alexander Davidson Circle. The Impala raced up the road and hugged the turns. Speed felt good. Too good. He was always tempted to go all out. Faster. Harder. Sometimes it got him in trouble, and he didn’t want to get in trouble today.

  He coasted into the small parking lot, got out, stretched, and scanned the dozen or so cars in the parking lot. Nothing out of the ordinary except the silver Audi parked at a slight angle, taking up two spaces.

  Jack was grateful for the brief walk to the front of the building that gave him a chance to burn off some of his nervous energy. He felt unpleasantly sweaty, and the winter blast was refreshing. When he opened the glass front door, a young, pretty girl with short black hair looked up from her seat behind a big desk and greeted him brightly. Way too perky.

  He gave his name and asked to see Dr. Hahn, adding that he didn’t have an appointment but had been personally invited for a tour by Dr. Hahn. The perky receptionist made a call, told Jack Dr. Hahn would be out in a minute, and showed him to the waiting area.

&n
bsp; Three couches were arranged in a horseshoe pattern in front of a large lecture hall. Students sat on all three, chatting and tapping on their phones. Jack decided to stand, but when Dr. Hahn did not in fact appear within a couple of minutes, he walked over to the glass wall that looked into the lecture hall. It was smaller than Jack expected. It would hold about fifty students, and about thirty or so were now listening to… he searched for the name of the professor he met when he visited before. Dr. Franklin. Jack hadn’t realized psychology could be so exciting, but the guy was pounding on the lectern, then spreading his arms theatrically, whipping his glasses on and off.

  Remind me not to grow a ponytail when I’m his age. Jack moved down to stand in the open doorway so he could hear the lecture.

  “Astrocytes, cluster, dopamine… the pleasure pathway.” Franklin smiled at a young girl in the front row. “Your assignment will be a pro and con, not a right or wrong. Short. Four pages.”

  A student in the back raised his hand. “We can pick anything on the list?”

  Franklin looked at the ceiling and sighed mockingly. “That’s why I’m providing the list.” A girl in the front giggled. “I want you to pick a subject and give a view on that subject and then select an opposing or differing view. For example, if you selected dopamine, you could write about its function in the pleasure pathway versus the view of its role with motivational or motor function. Or, if you choose nucleus accumbens, you could say…” He pointed to a young man in the front row who shifted in his seat.

  “Um… right lobe?” he stuttered.

  “Right lobe. And?” Franklin pressed.

  The student cleared his throat and settled back in his seat. He cast a glance at the girl seated next to him, and she nodded encouragingly.

  The young man’s Adam’s apple looked sharp enough to cut through the skin as it traveled up and down and settled back in the middle. “The connection between the nucleus accumbens and the right lobe and the theory that there’s a connection between the two as far as spirituality…”