Hard Time - Debt Collector 8 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  Not much had changed.

  Skid Row was still the hellish nightmare he remembered. An endless array of psych patients, crack addicts, heroin users, gang members, artists and vets shielding themselves from the elements and the world’s eyes in tents and cardboard boxes pressed up against walls. Despised by society, overlooked by the government, they were the throwaways. And yet right now, he felt more at home among them than ever before.

  When he entered the doors of the Unified Rescue Mission he smiled. Across the room, among the many faces of the addicted, homeless and hungry was Dalton. A short, stocky man with light hair and dark eyes, he still looked the same. He was having a heated exchange with a dark-skinned man and a woman disgruntled about something. Both of them looked like vagrants. Shabby clothes, matted hair and dust-covered skin. Jack observed for a few minutes wondering at what point Dalton would notice him.

  “Raymond, do you remember what I told you?”

  “Oh come on, he provoked me.”

  “This is not the place to unleash your anger.”

  “She said he touched her.”

  “And you have my word, I will look into it.”

  “I’m not leaving until you do.”

  He shook his head. “Look, take a seat and I will go speak with him now but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Well if you can’t, I can.”

  The wide, heavyset man went to push past him and Dalton put his hand out. Obviously the wrong thing to do as this guy was in a foul mood. He slapped Dalton’s hand out of the way and shoved him back into a set of folding chairs. They crumpled beneath him. He was just about to throw a punch when Jack grabbed his wrist.

  “What the fuck?”

  Before he knew what was happening, Jack twisted it around and shoved it up hard. Meanwhile the woman had got in on the action and had jumped on top of Jack’s back. After a short scuffle, some string bean hired security guard came over to lend a hand and they were soon tossed out and told not to come back until they could behave.

  Jack stood at the main entrance with the guard.

  “Thanks for helping.”

  “Not a problem,” Jack replied.

  Behind him he could hear John Dalton muttering something to two women about how things would be okay, and not to worry. As soon as Jack turned, a smile spread across his face.

  Dalton exhaled hard. “I should have figured. Every time the shit hits the fan, you seem to be in the general vicinity. You’re like a magnet for trouble.”

  He came over and they both hugged it out.

  “Good to see you, Jack.”

  “Likewise. I see you haven’t lost your charm with the locals.”

  Dalton looked out the window, wiped a hand across his sweaty brow and sighed. “Yeah, these folks just don’t seem to get the gist of how things function around here.”

  “And I see you have a new guard.”

  He rolled his eyes and motioned for Jack to follow him out back.

  “He does a fine job of guarding the coffee machine but a poor job of dealing with high-strung addicts. You don’t need a job, do you?”

  He chuckled as he led him down the corridor to his office.

  “So what was that all about?”

  “Raymond checked in with his girlfriend a month ago. He thinks one of our volunteers got a little too friendly but it’s just a misunderstanding. Whenever we are dealing with a woman, there is always a male and a female volunteer present. We nipped those sexual accusation issues in the bud a long time ago. No, he was just looking for a way to blow off steam because he'd been caught trying to sell crack to a few guys inside who were trying to kick the habit.”

  “Helpful.”

  “Exactly,” Dalton said motioning for him to enter his office.

  “Been a while since I was here.”

  “That it has. What’s up with the beard? You going all Grizzly Adams on me?”

  Jack ran a hand across his face. He’d let himself go. Motivation wasn’t exactly at the top of his list. “Thinking of trying a new look.”

  “And a new smell?”

  Jack sniffed his armpits.

  “I had a shower this morning,” Jack protested.

  Dalton smiled as he went around to his coffee machine and filled a filter with coffee grounds.

  “I wasn’t meaning your body odor. How long have you been drinking?”

  Jack leaned back in a seat. “I didn’t come all this way to be psychoanalyzed, John.”

  Dalton looked at him and raised his eyebrows but said nothing for a short while. He returned with two cups of coffee. “You still take it black?”

  “Yeah.”

  He eased into his chair.

  “You can’t bullshit an ex-alcoholic, Jack.”

  “I don’t have—”

  “A problem with drink?” Dalton chuckled and sipped at his coffee. “That was my favorite line.” He put his coffee down and studied Jack. “So how long has it been?”

  “No offense, John, but I really don’t want to get into it. You said you had a message for me?”

  Dalton regarded him the way he did with anyone that sat across from him. There was kindness in his eyes and yet he wasn’t the kind of man you could hide addiction from. Jack didn’t think he had an addiction to alcohol. Sure, he had been drunk a little more since losing Isabel but that was normal. Wasn’t it? At first he did it to numb the pain at night. Nights were the hardest. When he was lying on his bed, his mind wandered all over the place. A nice glass of bourbon quieted it. Nights soon turned into days and before he knew it he was feeling lost if he didn’t have his steel flask inside his jacket.

  Dalton reached into his desk and pulled out a scrap of paper. He made a quick phone call.

  “Yeah, he’s here. Ten minutes? Sure. You want to speak to him?”

  He nodded and then hung up.

  “I hope that wasn’t the cops.”

  Dalton chuckled. “Honestly, Jack, you’d think you would know me by now.”

  He cocked his head to one side. The truth was he trusted no one. Perhaps it was the alcohol making him paranoid, or just the lingering thought in the back of his mind that one day the FBI would come knocking again. He still didn’t know why they had let him go, though Agent Cooper seemed adamant that they would not be looking for him.

  “How come you couldn’t just give me the message over the phone?”

  “Because she wanted to speak to you in person.”

  Jack frowned. “She?”

  “You’ll see. She’ll be here soon. In the meantime, what’s going on with yourself? No phone call for months. It’s not like you, Jack.”

  Jack hadn’t told him what had taken place in Florida or how close he had got to Isabel or how much her death had affected him. He wasn’t one for bringing others down, especially not Dalton. He had enough on his plate. Every day the mission was dealing with situations that were far worse than his. It felt absurd to even mention his troubles. No, he kept them close to his chest. The only time he let them slip past his lips was after several drinks. And the only ones that heard them were bartenders. People who would forget the second they clocked out from their shift.

  Trying to duck out of the conversation, Jack picked up a photo of Dalton and his family.

  “How’s Karen doing? I see the baby is getting big.”

  Dalton leaned over and took it from him.

  “Answer the question.”

  Jack smirked before he pursed his lips. “What do you want to hear, John? That everything has turned out the way I hoped it would? That you were right? That maybe I should have listened to what Eddie said about staying clear of anyone I cared about? Cause I’ve gone both ways and it doesn’t matter what I do, people end up dead because of me.” He paused. “But I guess that’s the stuff you thrive on, isn’t it? The hard cases? The ones that don’t think they can be reached?”

  Dalton sipped at his coffee. “Why do you keep looking back?”

  “Because I see nothing up ahead.”
>
  Dalton rocked back and forth slowly in his chair. “So what? You going to lose yourself in a bottle now?”

  “I lost myself a long time ago, John, and it wasn’t in a bottle.”

  “Eddie told me about your upbringing.” He sucked air between his teeth. “Not much you can do about what happened but you can choose how to move forward.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Why don’t you stick around here? You know I could use someone like you.”

  “Use?”

  Dalton shook his head. “Always thinking about how others are trying to take advantage of you.” He breathed in deeply. “Ah, it’s to be expected. No, I didn’t mean it like that. No man’s an island, Jack. Humanity might not agree on how they ended up on this ball of dirt, but one thing for sure is we aren’t meant to live alone.”

  “I hope that’s not what you pitch to those folks lining the streets outside because I think their lives tell a different story.”

  “You’re right. The fact is, Jack, we are a product of our upbringing. We don’t get to choose what family we enter, or who raises us, and those early years will shape who we become but that doesn’t mean who we become is set in stone.”

  Jack waved his hand. “Please. Save it for the needy, Dalton.”

  Dalton leaned forward. “Everyone needs. The question is, what do you need, Jack?”

  “A drink, and perhaps a warm female. You think you can hook me up?”

  He stared at him. “What are you scared of?”

  Jack shrugged and downed his coffee. There was a long pause as Dalton waited for his answer. Jack wasn’t delaying answering, he just hadn’t taken the time to think about it.

  “If you must know. Everything I have loved, or has ever meant anything is gone.”

  “Not everyone,” a female voice piped up from behind them. The door cracked open a little wider and Jack swiveled in his chair. As his eyes fell upon the aged woman, he squinted. She had to have been in her late sixties, early seventies. Graying hair, pulled back tight. A hard complexion as if weathered by time. She wore a pair of blue jeans, flip flops and a white V-neck shirt. There was something about her that was familiar and yet he couldn’t determine what.

  Dalton got up from his chair and made a waving motion, “Jack, this is—”

  “Liz. Your mother.”

  Two Confession

  Jack rose from his seat and stared at the woman before his eyes darted to Dalton’s. None of this was making sense. John Dalton wasn’t the kind of man to mess with his head. He knew everything he’d been through. He knew he was already teetering on the edge of an abyss, one which he might not recover from. What the hell was this all about?

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Jack asked.

  The woman claiming to be his mother stepped forward, her eyes soaking him in.

  “You really have Eddie’s eyes.”

  Jack took a few steps back as Liz put out a hand as if trying to explore his face.

  “Right, this must be very confusing.”

  “Confusing? Dalton, you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  Liz looked at Dalton as if waiting to see whether he would clarify.

  “Um, best you take a seat, Jack.”

  “I’ll stand.”

  He spoke in a low tone and made his way back around to his desk, as if that would protect him from Jack’s anger. “Okay, well—”

  “John, let me explain,” Liz said. “Here’s the thing.”

  Jack shook his head. “No. No, you were meant to have died after giving birth to my sister.”

  “I know what people told you.”

  He frowned trying to grasp what was happening. “But the hospital, they said you went missing, while others said my father, well… not Eddie but you know… that he killed you.”

  She nodded. “I know this won’t be easy to understand, Jack.”

  Jack had heard enough, his head was spinning. He moved towards the door and flung it open and headed out.

  “Jack!” Dalton shouted out. Jack was already halfway down the corridor when he caught up with him. He grabbed a hold of his bicep.

  “Wait up. You need to hear her out.”

  Jack turned, glancing back towards Dalton’s office where Liz was looking out.

  “I don’t need to listen to any of this. You knew about my past. Why on earth would you believe this woman?”

  “I didn’t, Jack. She showed me your birth certificate. Besides, you must recognize her from old photos?”

  “I’ve only ever seen one photo of her and it was when she was young.”

  “Your father never kept any?”

  “Which one?”

  It was confusing. On one hand, he’d grown up believing the man he lived with was his father, and then on the other he had the confession from Eddie Carmine in the form of a letter. So many secrets. So many lies. At this age, he no longer cared.

  “You know what I mean,” Dalton said.

  Jack chuckled and shook his head.

  “Give her a chance to explain.”

  Jack shot a sideways glance up the corridor. While he found the whole thing absurd, he couldn’t help be curious. Though he’d been told that she’d died in childbirth, rumor was his father had killed her. When Jack asked around, others in the neighborhood said she went missing. Even Eddie confirmed that.

  “Listen, I’ll knock off early and we can all go back to my place. I’ll have Karen put together a lunch and you can hear what she has to say. If you still think it’s bullshit, then I apologize but—”

  “When did she show up?” Jack asked, cutting him off.

  Dalton swallowed hard and looked down at his feet.

  “When?” Jack asked in a more demanding tone.

  “Three weeks ago. I tried phoning but you weren’t answering your messages.”

  “Why is she here?”

  “I think it’s best she explains that.”

  Jack ground his teeth. This was the last thing he wanted. His life was complex enough as it was without this bombshell. Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the next and scratched his beard. He looked back at the woman claiming to be his mother. He’d never bonded with her. He felt nothing. He could have walked out the door and continued on his way without giving it a second thought but he was curious. If it was her, why was she showing up now? Jack gave a reluctant nod and Dalton patted him on the arm.

  “Just give me five minutes to sort out things with my staff and we’ll head out. Okay?”

  He dashed off looking flustered leaving Jack standing at one end of the corridor while his mother was at the other end. To say it was awkward would be an understatement. He had a million and one questions and yet asking even one would have meant accepting her claim and right now he wasn’t buying it. Instead his mind was going through a list of names. People who might have been trying to lure him out into the open. The Mafia. The FBI. Disgruntled clients. The families of those he had killed. He lived his life with his guard up. It had to be that way.

  “John said you’ve turned your life around. Got away from the Mafia.”

  An eyebrow shot up. Was she expecting him to enter deep conversation about his life? When he didn’t reply, she continued.

  “Anyway, it’s a good thing. I never thought Jersey was a good place to raise a family.”

  “Is that why you left us behind?”

  She took a few steps forward and then her brow knit together. “I know this can’t be easy, Jack. But I…”

  Thankfully, before she could finish, Dalton reemerged and motioned for them to follow him out to the parking lot. They entered a black SUV; Jack hopped in the passenger side while Liz was in the back. Throughout the entire journey, he could feel her eyes boring into him. Dalton tried to keep the mood light by starting a dialogue with Liz but Jack could tell that it wasn’t working. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife.

  When they arrived at Dalton’s home, Karen looked as if she
had already been prepped for what was liable to become a very heated discussion. She greeted Jack with open arms though he could tell she wasn’t comfortable having him there. The last time he’d been in his home, Dalton was treating him for bullet and knife wounds.

  Karen led them into a dining area. She had already set out the table with some sushi, a few ham sandwiches and different finger foods. She excused herself and said she had a prior appointment. A likely story but Jack didn’t mind. The fewer eyes on him the better.

  “Please, take a seat,” Dalton said, pulling out a chair. Liz eyed Jack and he waited until she had decided where she would sit before he sat across from her. After a few minutes of awkward silence, they helped themselves to food and then the questions rolled.

  Three - Bombshell

  He wanted answers and she would give them. He squinted at her from across the table as he piled vegetables onto his plate. Jack was looking for any similarities. Something that might indicate that she was his mother. But he couldn’t see it. The photo he’d seen when he was a kid belonged to Eddie, he didn’t keep it on him because like most things in his past, he preferred to forget.

  “Do you have questions?” Liz kicked it off.

  “Why should I believe you’re my mother?”

  She rifled through her purse and pulled out paperwork. From a small package she retrieved a birth certificate, and several photos. One inside the hospital after she had given birth, another outside as Jack could see a sign for the New Jersey hospital. The last was of her face black-and-blue from a beating. She then handed him a few pieces of her ID with her signature. They matched the one on the birth certificate. Her name, however, was no longer Liz Winchester, she now went under the name Liz Matthews.

  He nodded. All of it could have been forged. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worked with skilled individuals that could forge certificates and create fake IDs. Hell, after what he went through in New York, he’d considered having plastic surgery to make it easier to vanish but he never did.

  He continued chewing.

  “Questions?”

  Jack snorted as he loaded his mouth with food. “Sure. Here’s a question for you. Actually, here are three. If you are my mother, where were you when that asshole was beating on me? Or where were you when your daughter was abused and ended up in the East Star Behavioral Treatment Center? And where were you when Eddie was trying to figure out how to explain that he was my father?”