Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 22

  “Instantly.”

  Jack held the phone away from his head. “Really? You can get accepted to a college instantly?”

  “Well, we’re a sister college and she was just transferring credits. She can take any classes here that she wants.”

  “So you’re saying she just signed up for classes? She didn’t really transfer in?”

  “We’re a sister college, so, technically, yes.”

  Technically, I might have to strangle you.

  “When did she apply?”

  “December twentieth.”

  “And where does it say that?”

  There was a pause. “It’s the date that’s written on the form.”

  “Lady…” Jack’s frustration was getting the better of him. “Is there a way you can tell when they electronically submitted the form?”

  “Hold, please.”

  “No, don’t—”

  Jack waited on hold for another fifteen minutes.

  What’s it… four forty-two on the West Coast? I need this information today.

  By the time the hold music stopped, he didn’t know whether he’d be able to speak without swearing.

  “Hey. You still there?” It was now a young man on the other end of the line.

  “I’m on hold for…” Oh, great... I don’t have her name.

  “Are you the guy looking for the date on the form?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m from the computer help desk. How can I help?”

  “Can you get a date… can you please tell me the date that Michelle Carter signed up for those classes? Electronically. Not the date written on the form.”

  “Sure, dude. Hold on.”

  Jack heard typing in the background.

  “The time stamp on the doc is December twentieth at ten-oh-three p.m.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. The computer records it. I’m looking right at the electronic time stamp.”

  She could have signed up herself while she was still at the school. Dead end…

  Wait.

  “You’re talking Pacific Standard Time. Eastern would make it December twenty-first, one-oh-three a.m. here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll need a copy of that report.”

  35

  The Pit

  Early the following morning, Jack walked through the doors of the police station with a large folder in his hands. Even though his first shift back wasn’t until later that afternoon, he had Replacement drop him off early. He had stayed up half the night getting everything prepared to give to Collins. As he forced his leg to take him steadily down the corridor, other police officers came over and patted him on the back or shook his hand. He hated the attention.

  He was just about to break free of the latest welcoming committee when he heard a woman call his name, and turned just in time to brace himself as Kendra crashed into him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his.

  After a couple of seconds, he joked, “This is getting awkward.”

  She stepped back, still beaming. “Everyone was worried about you. Did you get my flowers?”

  “I did.” I think. “Thank you.” He nodded down the hallway. “I have to go check in.”

  “Welcome back.” Kendra started to open her arms and move in again, but caught herself. She gave him a quick shot in the arm instead.

  On to Sheriff Collins’s office. A new police secretary looked up at him and shook her head. “Sheriff Collins is away at a conference.”

  He hadn’t seen this coming. It never goes the way you plan. “I had no idea he’d be gone,” he groused.

  She smiled sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware you were on the list of people to be informed of his scheduling.”

  Jack exhaled and pressed his lips together. “Is Judy around?”

  “I’m covering for her while she and Sheriff Collins are away at the National Sheriffs’ Association Conference in Charlotte.” She swiveled back to her keyboard.

  “When will he be back?”

  “It’s a four-day conference; he’ll be back on Monday. He can be reached if it’s an emergency.” Her look was a dare: Go ahead, make my day.

  “Do you know when Joe Davenport will be in?”

  She went back to typing. “Nine a.m. When he gets back from vacation.”

  “What?” Jack snapped.

  “Detective Davenport is on a fishing trip in Canada.” She continued to type, striking the keys with more force now. “If you want a copy of the schedule, it’s posted near the water cooler.”

  “When will he be back?”

  The secretary stopped typing and swiveled back to glare at him. “It’s posted on the schedule”—she leaned forward and read his badge—“Officer Stratton. Detective Davenport will return on Saturday. If you—” She stopped and her eyes went wide. “Jack Stratton?”

  Jack nodded.

  “You should have said something. I’m so sorry. How are you?”

  Said something? Like, hey, I’m the guy who got hit by the car. Can you be nice and answer a simple question for me?

  “Much better, thank you. I just need to speak to Collins or to Joe as soon as possible.”

  The woman’s hands went up and out as she now spewed forth useless information. “Sheriff Collins checks his messages between meetings, or you can text 911 if it’s an emergency. Undersheriff Morrison is available, and Detective Flynn is covering for Detective Davenport. Can they help?”

  Jack tapped the folder against the edge of the desk. Collins doesn’t like Morrison so much. I can’t give it to Flynn after what happened, and Joe won’t be back for two days. I’m screwed.

  He shook his head, thanked her, and walked away. He tried Davenport and didn’t have to wait; the voice mail picked right up.

  Jack hung up and tried Sheriff Collins. His voice mail clicked on right away, too. “Sheriff Ethan Collins. I’ll be in and out of conferences all day. If this is an emergency, text me and I’ll call you back immediately. If not, Undersheriff Morrison is covering and can be reached…”

  Jack debated for a second and then hung up.

  He called Davenport again and left him a message that he wanted to talk about his sister’s case.

  He’d be better off at home with his leg in a sling.

  Later that afternoon, Jack stood in the police parking lot again. He was still on the night shift, four to midnight.

  At least getting hit by the car got me off traffic duty.

  Jack’s anger and frustration vanished for a moment when he saw that the Charger was all his. He slid behind the wheel, and the engine purred as if it was glad to see him again.

  Since he had the freedom to patrol where he wanted, within boundaries, he let those boundaries bring him out of town and close to White Rocks.

  He drummed the steering wheel as he waited to reach the back roads and open the Charger up. He needed to clear his head. He needed speed.

  “Ten-ten in progress at WRE,” the dispatcher’s voice said over the radio.

  Perfect. Jack heard the location and jumped for the radio.

  “This is car sixty-eight. I’m north on Piedmont crossing Bridge Street.”

  “Ten-four, car sixty-eight. The location is Two Jefferson Avenue.”

  Sweet. Right in the pocket. The address was for The Pit, a bar in the basement of an old converted administration building at White Rocks. Jack hit the lights and sirens and punched it.

  He settled back in his seat as adrenaline flowed along with the gas. He kept his foot down, and the Charger roared its approval.

  Two campus police cars were parked outside The Pit, and a large crowd was forming outside, where a sort of temporary triage had been set up at a picnic table. A couple of guys held bloody towels to their heads, and about twenty kids were gathered around them, shouting and talking.

  He recognized the two campus cops on the scene. Chad Tucker was busy trying to hold back Milton Anderson, off to the side. Milt’s nose was bloo
dy, and he also held a towel to his face.

  “Chad, Milt, what’s going on?”

  “Inside.” Chad motioned with his head. “We got two guys with cuts and another one who may never have kids, if you know what I mean.” He adjusted himself.

  Chad led the way into the building.

  “What happened to you, Milt?” The tall, thin man was trying to hold his head back to stop the bleeding from his nose.

  “That psycho down there hit me in the face when I went to break up the fight.” The towel muffled his voice.

  Jack could only assume things would become clearer once he was at the scene. He motioned to them to follow him down the stairs, but Milt declined to join them.

  “Careful, Jack. She doesn’t look tough, but she’s dangerous,” Chad said quietly.

  “She?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The door was ajar, and Jack pushed it open cautiously. The Pit was never much on looks, but you could tell a good fight had taken place. Tables were overturned, and in one corner, glass littered the floor.

  “A girl did this?”

  “Shh.” Chad’s eyes went wide, and he pointed as he moved behind Jack.

  I’m so glad they don’t give these guys guns.

  Jack now saw a girl sitting at the end of the bar, facing away from them. Around five feet tall, a hundred pounds soaking wet, she looked about as dangerous as a puppy.

  “Excuse me, miss?” Jack held his hands out, palms up.

  The girl swung around on the stool. Jack gasped and stepped back on Chad’s foot.

  “Yes, sir?” Replacement said.

  Jack just stood there with his mouth open.

  Jack could tell that Replacement was trying to convey something to him with her expression, but his brain was struggling to respond. His courses at the academy had never covered anything remotely like this situation.

  “Ah… Chad, I’ve got this. Go check on Milton,” Jack ordered without turning around.

  “You sure?”

  Jack turned to glare at Chad, who was already almost out the door.

  “Don’t say anything,” Replacement whispered. “I’m undercover.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jack stammered, just as Chad came back with Milton.

  “How come she’s not in cuffs?” Milton demanded. Poor guy’s voice sounded like his nose was completely blocked up.

  “Once I ascertain… what happened to this poor girl—”

  “Poor girl?” Milton said. “I think she broke my nose.”

  Replacement let out a wail and covered her face, sobbing. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of them… one of the men who attacked me,” she bawled.

  “Attacked you?” Replacement was hamming it up, but something had happened to her.

  “Ken put something in my drink. Him and his friends.” There was genuine anger and disgust on her face.

  She’d never make that up about someone to get out of a bad situation.

  “Bring them in, and keep them quiet,” Jack ordered Milton and Chad. “I’m speaking with the girl first.” He took Replacement by the arm and led her across the large dance floor into a back room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered.

  “I told you, I’m undercover.”

  “Well, your cover is blown. What happened?”

  “It’s not blown.” She crossed her arms and huffed. “They don’t know who I am.”

  Yeah, join the club. “Talk. You got a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Okay, I went to go talk to this guy, Ken, and he put something in my drink. It freaked me out.”

  “How do you know? Did you drink it?”

  “I saw him do it, and he told me.” She stamped her foot.

  “What do you mean he told you?”

  “We were over in that corner. I came back from the bathroom, and I saw Ken put something in my drink, and when I confronted him, he had the nerve to say, ‘I just put in a little something to help you relax.’ Then he put his hand on my thigh. High up on my thigh.” Her hands turned into fists. “So I punched him in the face. Then his friends came up and tried to grab me, and I had the glass in my hand, so I whacked one guy with it.”

  Replacement acted it out. “The guy behind me had both my arms, and he pushed me into the table, and there was a beer bottle on it, so I got one hand free and I grabbed it and hit him, like this.” She mimed smashing a guy in the head with the bottle. Relishing it all over again. “It didn’t break, but he sure did scream.”

  Jack cringed. “What happened to Milton?”

  “Who?”

  “The campus police officer whose nose you probably broke.”

  “It’s his fault! He snuck up behind me, grabbed me. He didn’t say he was a cop.” She shrugged.

  “Replacement—”

  “Alexis,” she corrected him with a deadly serious look.

  “What?”

  “That’s me. My undercover name. Alexis Holmes.”

  “Will you forget about that for now? You’re not undercover!”

  Jack pulled her by the arm back into the bar area and sat her at a table as far away as possible from the trio of miscreants Chad and Milton had assembled for him to question.

  “Please. Alexis. Stay here. Do not move. Do not talk to these people or engage with them in any way, or you will jeopardize my ability to help you. Do you understand, Alexis?”

  Alexis smiled demurely and batted her eyes. Remind me never to get a puppy.

  He motioned for one of the guys. A tall man with a bloody towel pressed to his head, stepped forward. Jack led him into the back room. His face was hard as he shoved the man into a chair.

  “ID?” Jack waited for the man to hand it to him.

  Dillon Cole, 21.

  “Were you the guy who grabbed her from behind or the guy who came at her from the front?” Jack took out his notepad.

  “What? She punched Ken in the face.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “It was more like a slap. I didn’t mean to hit her.”

  “You hit her?” Jack fought to stay professional.

  “No, I… She punched Ken and I tried to grab her… It was an accident.”

  “Listen, Dillon. What we have here is an underage girl who says you were part of a group of guys who tried to drug her.”

  Dillon’s eyes went wide and his mouth flopped open. “I didn’t know she was underage, and I had no idea Ken was going to do something like that. Honest.”

  “Will you empty your pockets for me, please?”

  He stood up and turned out his pockets. “I don’t got nothing.”

  “Did you see any of the other guys with drugs?”

  Dillon nodded. “Ken said he got some Ecstasy or something to impress Alexis. She asked me if I had some drugs, but I don’t do drugs. I don’t even know where to get—”

  Jack turned and called, “Chad?”

  A disheveled head appeared.

  “Stick this guy in the corner and send the next one in.”

  Another student walked in and slumped forward in the chair. Paul Denning, 22. Jack could see the bump on his head even through the towel.

  It might have been better for him if the bottle had broken and he didn’t get clubbed.

  Paul’s story matched the other loser’s. He had run over and tried to grab Replacement, and she’d decked him with a bottle. Jack shook his head, pointed to the door, and waited for the final kid.

  After a couple of minutes, Chad and Milton appeared, supporting and helping a guy in obvious pain.

  “Sit him down,” Jack ordered. “Everyone else, clear out.”

  Jack looked at the license.

  Ken Fenton, 21.

  “What’s your version of the events, Ken?” he asked smoothly, keeping himself in check.

  “I met that crazy bi—” Ken stopped as soon as he saw the look on Jack’s face. “I was having a drink with Alexis, and she, um, sort of freaked out.”

  “Was t
his before or after you put drugs in her drink?” Jack’s voice was as cold as his darkening eyes.

  “What? I— I don’t know—”

  Jack put his face inches away from Ken’s and didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just smoldered.

  “It was Ecstasy,” Ken said quietly. “I asked her. I mean, I told her.” He leaned away from Jack.

  “You asked her?”

  “I swear. I did. I told her it was in there. She wanted it.”

  “What did you say? You’re saying she wanted you to drug her?” Jack grabbed the arms of the chair and shook it hard. Ken’s face contorted in pain.

  “Crystal,” he whined. “She kept asking for meth. I didn’t know where to get any, but she was real insistent. I asked around, and this guy had some Ecstasy. I wanted to impress her. Before she went to the bathroom, she asked me if I could find some drugs. I just wanted to surprise her, so I put it in her drink. She must have seen me do it and misunderstood. I just wanted her to have fun and relax.” Ken was on the verge of breaking down now.

  Jack just glowered. “Who sold you the Ecstasy?”

  “I don’t really know him. I’ve seen him around campus. I think his name is Lennie.”

  “Lennie Jacobsen?”

  Ken shrugged.

  “When did you see him before?”

  “Just around the school. He was in one of my computer classes. He’s a little weird.”

  “What do you mean weird?”

  “He’s real goth and has long black hair.”

  “Can you point him out to me?” Jack gestured toward the door.

  “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s gone. When I was outside and heard everyone start moaning that the cops were here, I saw him hop in a car and take off.”

  “What did the car look like?”

  “Um, silver.”

  “Do you know what kind of car it was?”

  “No, no clue.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “Black. A hooded sweatshirt, I think, and black jeans.” Ken shifted in the chair.

  “When did you get hit in the groin?” Jack tried to think of how to control this.

  “After she hit Paul with the bottle.”

  “Did you grab her?”

  He shook his head but didn’t look at Jack.

  “Did you grab her?” Jack repeated.