Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Read online

  “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” Jack’s jaw clenched.

  The heat in Marisa’s eyes cooled, along with her voice. “Really? That didn’t stop you before.”

  Jack’s chin lowered to his chest, and he sighed.

  “Marisa, any guy would kill to be with you, but right now… you don’t need me in your life.”

  Her look turned cold. She slid off the desk and went to the computer desk in the corner. “Right forearm, eagle with a sword? He got it here about a year ago.”

  She pressed a few keys, and a page printed out.

  Jack was confused.

  “I knew the tat right away. I just wanted to make you beg.”

  “Marisa.” He touched her shoulder, and she let her head rest against his hand. She had a new tattoo on her back, a heart with a golden lock wrapped around it.

  “Go.” She scribbled a quick note, folded it, and placed it in an envelope with the printout. He waited for her to say something else, but she just pushed the envelope to the edge of the desk and looked back at the computer.

  What was I thinking, coming here?

  Jack grabbed the envelope and didn’t look back. He wanted to, but it was wrong, what they did to each other. You couldn’t build anything on what they had—lust and fire and jealousy and fear—all things that consume rather than nourish. What they had felt wrong because, for some reason, it could never be right.

  Jack walked out front, all eyes on him. He focused on the door and kept walking, his jacket in hand. It was freezing out, but he let the cold wash over him.

  Never again, he vowed as he crossed to his car.

  He opened the envelope and looked down at the picture inside. A rat-faced guy was posing to show off his new tattoo. Kevin Arnold. He’d have to run his background when he got home.

  On the back of the picture Marisa had written, “I’ll wait.” Next to it, she’d written the number 2614 and had drawn a heart around it. He remembered the new tattoo on Marisa’s back: a heart with a gold combination lock. He hadn’t made the connection before, but he did now. The combination was 2614.

  His badge number.

  A driver had to stop short and laid on the horn, even opening his window to yell at Jack as he pulled out.

  Jack missed it all.

  10

  She Slimed Me

  On the way home, Jack remembered to stop by the supermarket and pick up a chocolate cake, an “I’m sorry” card, and a gigantic box of chocolates for Mrs. Stevens, but halfway to the car, he changed direction and headed to the liquor store.

  I’ll just have a little. Take the edge off. Nothing more.

  The bell on the door rang as he entered. Cappy, the old guy behind the counter, barely looked up. Jack headed for the rum. He grabbed a half pint, took two steps, then put it back. He picked up a pint, but hesitated, returning it to the shelf with a clink of the glass against the other bottles. Settling on a fifth, he headed for the front. Cappy got off his stool when Jack set the bottle down on the counter.

  “Hey, Jack, you want anything else?”

  Jack stopped cold, staring at the back of the cash register.

  Cappy set his hand on the counter and leaned in a little. “Hey. You want anything else?”

  Jack still didn’t speak. There was a flyer taped to the back of the register.

  Michelle’s picture. Replacement must have put it up.

  “You want anything or not?” Cappy grumbled.

  “No.” Jack turned and walked out the door empty-handed. In the parking lot, shared by the Big Al supermarket, an elderly woman in a worn brown coat paused in the middle of getting into an old sedan and called his name.

  Jack had met Mrs. Sawyer when she was convinced her home was being robbed after finding a broken window. Jack thought it was probably mischief by a tree branch and a bit of wind—which turned out to be the case—but he went by every day for a month to check on her, thus earning a lifelong friend and a guaranteed supply of baked goods.

  He went over to accept a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and rocked him back and forth. Once he gave in, it felt really good, though he couldn’t help thinking of how recently he had been crushing Marisa in an embrace with very different motivations.

  After the obligatory small talk and his promise to stop by soon for cocoa and pie, the little old woman gunned her car out of the parking lot.

  Jack could have gone back into the liquor store, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. Instead he was very proud of himself for remembering to get Mrs. Stevens some appeasement gifts at Big Al’s.

  Back at his apartment building, he stood outside his landlady’s door and tried to balance the cake, card, and chocolates as he knocked. He took a step back when she opened the door; it was obvious she’d been crying, and she looked scary.

  Then she let out a mournful wail and threw both arms around his neck.

  “Mr. Stratton, I’m so truly sorry.” He could hardly understand her through the sobs and sniffling. “What a nice man you are.”

  Jack, though mystified by her change of heart, raced to find an excuse so he could get out from her clutches without offending her. Or dropping the cake. He extricated himself as quickly as possible and held out his peace offerings. “It’s okay, Mrs. Stevens.”

  She patted the side of his face with her wet hand and then took the cake, card, and chocolates. “God bless you! You’re an angel for what you’ve done for that poor girl.” Another strange wail convulsed her and she ran into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

  Jack stood there and wiped the side of his face with his jacket.

  Gross. She slimed me. He shook his head. Replacement. What has she done?

  He turned and ran up the stairs three at a time.

  “What did you tell the landlady?” he demanded to the empty living room and kitchen.

  Maybe she went to get something to eat.

  He walked into the bedroom and sat down to kick off his shoes. Replacement walked out of the bathroom wearing her long nightshirt, her head down, her hair wet from the shower.

  Jack smiled mischievously. She doesn’t see me.

  “Boo!”

  Replacement shrieked. Jack saw her hand shoot out, and the next second she launched the nearest heavy-looking thing—a brass candlestick from his bureau—at his head, just missing him. She ran shrieking into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Jack sat there for a second and then fell over laughing.

  She ripped opened the door and yelled, “Jerk! What the hell is the matter with you?”

  He only laughed harder.

  She stormed over to him. He tried to stop laughing, but he just rolled over and laughed at the ceiling.

  “Seriously? Seriously?” She slapped his legs.

  “Stop. Stop. I can’t breathe.” Jack’s sides hurt.

  “Do you knock?”

  “Knock? It’s my apartment.” He was down to giggling now.

  “You’re a total jackass.” She stomped back into the bathroom.

  After a minute, Jack rose with a groan and went to the door. He shook his head and knocked softly. “Sorry.” He listened and waited. “I’m sorry,” he said again, louder.

  She opened the door a crack. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you announce yourself next time?”

  Announce myself? It’s my apartment. Jack exhaled. “Okay. Truce?”

  Replacement eyed him warily. “Truce.”

  “Don’t you have a shower at your place?” Jack asked, trying to control his laughter. Every time he came home, she was getting out of his shower.

  She deflected his question. “You have unlimited hot water. You’re not one of those save-the-water-and-conserve types, are you?” She got so close to him they were inches apart. “But I did hear they have a slogan: ‘Save the planet: shower with a buddy.’” Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Did you want me to wait for you?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Don�
�t go there.” Not after this morning. Too far. Jack walked over to the computer.

  “Okay, now I’m sorry.” She skipped over next to him. “Forgive me?”

  Jack tossed the envelope on the desk. “Got a picture of the guy with the tat.”

  Replacement tore it open and looked at the photo carefully. “Did you run this guy? Do you know where he lives?”

  “I just got here. I was going to log in and run him.”

  “I thought you went to the police lab. Why didn’t you run him there?” She turned the picture over, and her eyes narrowed when she saw Marisa’s note. “Gee… the guys down at the lab must think you’re pretty sweet.” She pointed to the heart and batted her eyes.

  “I said, knock it off. I’m not in the mood.” He grabbed for the envelope. “Hey, what did you say to Mrs. Stevens?” he asked as the memory of the crying landlady came back.

  “I bought her a pie.”

  I should have kept the cake.

  His stomach was growling and he sensed Replacement’s frustration with his typing speed, so he headed for the kitchen to scrounge for food. She immediately took his seat. In the refrigerator he found milk and a large apple pie on the top shelf.

  “Wow, this looks good. Can I have some of this, please?” He sounded like a little kid begging at the refrigerator.

  “I bought it for you,” Replacement called over her shoulder.

  “It had to be a lot more than pie to get Mrs. Stevens crying like that. What else did you say?” Jack poured a tall glass of milk to go with the huge hunk of pie he’d dished out.

  “I… I just… I kept in character.”

  Jack shook his head, dreading what that might mean, but he didn’t care; the pie was delicious.

  “Kevin Arnold.” Replacement pointed at the monitor. “This guy’s a piece of work,” she spat.

  Jack rushed over to the computer. She’s logged in to the police database. “How did you do that?”

  “I just ran his name. This is the same guy. Look at the pictures.” She pointed at the screen.

  “But how did you log in?” Jack was trying to control his growing exasperation, but he was losing that fight.

  “I used your login.” She shrugged.

  “How did you get it?”

  “I saw you type it. Chargers, just with a dollar sign instead of the letter s. I pick up on stuff like that.” Her smile seemed open and innocent.

  Jack’s irritation evaporated. It was his own stupidity for letting her see his password, and the look on her face showed she had no idea that she’d broken a whole string of laws.

  “Okay,” he mumbled around a bite of pie. “What’s it have on him?” He could see how this pie might have worked on the landlady. He was already enveloped in its warm, sugary glow.

  Replacement’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “He’s been arrested eight times: breaking and entering, drugs, and three assaults.” She continued to type. “No jail time. Two restraining orders out on him. Both expired. He has one outstanding warrant.” The typing stopped.

  “What were the assaults?”

  “One domestic. Looks like a girlfriend. That’s how the restraining order came up.”

  “What about the other assaults?”

  “First one was a girl in a bar.” Replacement scanned the page. “It doesn’t look like he knew her. Relationship says ‘None.’”

  “Second one?”

  “Oh, this is different. Girl outside a bar. He didn’t know her either.”

  “What’s the race of the women?”

  “Girlfriend is listed as white. The bar girls were”—she looked for the information—“both African American.”

  If this guy touched Michelle, I’m going to kill him.

  “You have an address? He has no jail time, so they’d have listed it under probation records. It should be in there.”

  “I’ll try.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard again.

  Jack was impressed. In spite of all his extra classes, he still knew next to nothing about their computer systems. He’d have to remedy that.

  “Nothing.”

  Jack closed his eyes to preserve the memory of the last bite of pie, laced his fingers behind his head, and exhaled. “Check who posted his bail.”

  After a minute, Replacement tilted her head and shook the mouse. “That doesn’t make sense. Nancy Mulligan bailed him out. That’s the girlfriend he assaulted.”

  Jack frowned. “It happens all the time. I don’t get it. Why would a girl stay with someone who treats her like that?”

  “She lives at 303B Hillside Downs Road.”

  Jack was familiar with Hillside Downs, an apartment complex with about a hundred units that looked like something from a third-world country. Going there was about as safe. Jack made a grim list of things he’d need to take. Gun. Taser. Vest. Mace for the dogs. He glanced at the clock.

  ‘“I can’t go out there now. I’ll need backup. I’ll go in the morning. You’ll stay here.”

  “Great. Sure.” Replacement smiled and moved to the couch.

  Jack frowned. I didn’t mean that you could sleep here. He wanted to say it aloud, but he wasn’t sure what he had meant. Instead he retreated to the bedroom for what he knew would be another restless night.

  11

  The Downs

  The next morning, Sunday, Jack drove out to Hillside Downs, followed by Kendra Darcey and Donald Pugh. They stopped before the entrance, and Jack walked back to greet them.

  Donald was Kendra’s partner. He’d once cajoled Jack into promising to take him to the police gun range for an afternoon, but he was still waiting for Jack to deliver. When it came to shooting practice, Jack went alone. Not because he was bad—quite the opposite. But the downside of being the fastest gun hadn’t changed since the Old West: the title put a mark on your head, and everyone wanted to try to take you down. Jack didn’t know whether Donald wanted tips on shooting or just wanted to take a shot at besting him.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem.” Donald gave a curt nod.

  “I normally enjoy watching you get into trouble, but not here.” Kendra took in their tawdry surroundings with a gesture, her eyes rounded in concern.

  Jack understood her meaning and spoke in a stern, military, no-nonsense tone. “We’re looking for Kevin Arnold.” Jack handed them a copy of Kevin’s mug shot. “He has an outstanding warrant for failure to appear from Lincoln County.”

  Kendra passed the paperwork to Donald.

  “He has no known address, but a resident here bailed him out on the most recent assault charge: Nancy Mulligan. If we’re lucky, the weasel won’t be far behind.”

  The two patrol cars rolled through the front gates of Hillside Downs, four three-story buildings with all the warmth and charm of 1950s’ Russian architecture—squat, square, and built with the cheapest materials possible. The peeled paint, rusted railings, and crumbling walls added to the desolation.

  As they drove to Building Three, there were only a couple of windows with shades, even fewer with curtains. Most just had a sheet or blanket that concealed the room from the outside world.

  When they parked at the side of the building, a dog tied to a railing tried to rush the car. It ran straight at them before it reached the end of its chain. The dog’s whole body twisted violently, and it fell into the dirt as the three officers looked on, aghast. A moment later, the unfortunate animal scrambled to its feet and began barking nonstop.

  In spite of the dog’s warning, all the windows in all the buildings remained blank.

  “Is this place deserted or what?” Kendra asked, clearly not needing a response, as there wasn’t a soul in sight.

  “It’s eight in the morning. Everyone’s still sleeping off the coke and booze from last night,” Donald sneered.

  “Kendra, you watch the back,” Jack said. “This guy’s assaults have all been on women, and he’s jumped them. If I was putting money on it, I’d lay four to one that he takes off. See how the
balconies connect the end apartments? He could try to go there. Plus, there are utility closets linking the apartments, and this guy may be skinny enough to slip through.”

  Kendra nodded. “I’ll cover them. If he bolts, I’ll nail him.”

  “Good.”

  Jack ran down his list: Gun. Taser. Vest. Mace. Cuffs. Baton.

  Donald looked over at his partner. “No unnecessary chances, okay?”

  Kendra nodded.

  Jack forced himself to walk slowly, and Donald followed behind. A pair of yellowed eyes peered out from a first-floor window and hastily disappeared.

  The stench of urine hit Jack’s nose when he got to the exterior staircase. Third floor. All of these apartments, same layout. Front door. Square living room. Kitchen in the back. Bathroom to the left and then the bedroom.

  The second floor had a couple of old lawn chairs next to the stairs and cigarette butts littered the cement. A chain held a mountain bike frame that was missing the tires, seat, and handlebars.

  Jack climbed to the third floor and flexed his shoulders. He leaned over the railing and saw Kendra. She was watching the back, and her head was in constant motion.

  Head on a swivel. Good girl.

  Jack reached the unit. He motioned, and Donald stood near the window to the side of the door. Jack knocked, but he didn’t pound on it like some cops did.

  A dog two apartments down started to bark, and then another joined in. Both sounded like big dogs. Jack instinctively put his hand on the Mace. He knocked again. The face of a little girl appeared in the corner of the window.

  Great. A little kid.

  A woman in her early twenties opened the door, dressed in baggy gray sweatpants and a loose top. The baby in her arms pulled on the top so much that her left breast was almost exposed. She yanked her shirt out of the baby’s hand while using her leg to try to hold back the little kid who’d been peering out the window.

  Jack categorized them as a non-threat and scanned the background. The living room was dark, but there was enough light to see.