Replacement surprised him, adjusting her grip and replying, “Me too. Punch it.”
Music to Jack’s ears. He stomped on the gas and raced the rest of the way there.
They stopped in front of the auto yard’s two large gates, which were secured by a thick chain and padlock. Jack gave three loud blasts on the car horn.
Replacement jumped out, grabbed the gates, and peered in.
Jack got out and walked along the ten-foot-tall, rusted barbed-wire fence, desperately searching for the blue Honda Civic like a mother frantically scanning faces of everyone as she looks for her lost child. And then…
Found it.
His stomach dropped.
The roof of the car was partly smashed in.
The car must have rolled over at least once.
Replacement followed his eyes to the car. Before he could stop her, she pulled the gates as far apart as the chain would allow and squeezed her slender frame through the gap.
He grabbed the fence. “No, no, no!” The warning burst out like a machine gun as he dashed back. His arm reached through the gate and he tried to grab her, but she was too fast and Jack was too bulky to fit through. “Stop!” He tried not to yell—it was more of a shouted whisper.
But it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d screamed; she was fixated on Michelle’s car.
Jack yelled to get her attention, but she just stood and stared at the car. Besides the roof, both the windows were down and the windshield was broken. The front end was damaged, and pieces of headlight and bumper were gone.
A sound grew closer. Bells jingling. Little bells on dog collars.
He pulled at the gates, but he couldn’t break the chain; nor could he fit through.
“RUN!” Jack could always yell loudly, even as a little kid. Now sheer panic amplified his voice and he finally broke through the dark cloud that Replacement was in.
She looked up.
He couldn’t even count the number of animals in the huge pack of dogs that raced toward her. Junkyard dogs—muscular, enormous beasts as mean as they come. Without a sound except the little bells around their collars, their panting breaths, and their pounding gallop.
Replacement’s body tensed for the run back to the gate. The dogs must have sensed the hunt was on because now they bayed and growled.
Even if she runs now, she’ll never make the gate.
Replacement froze with fear. The beasts drove forward, their mouths open.
“Get in the car!” Jack shouted. He took one look at the barbed wire at the top of the fence and knew he couldn’t climb over it in time. “Get in the car!”
Replacement tried to open the smashed car door. It creaked, but it didn’t budge. Jack could hear the dogs’ claws on the frozen ground now.
“In!” he ordered.
Replacement scrambled through the open window. Jack saw her legs vanish inside the car. He could only watch as the huge, snarling dogs chomped at the window where their prey had disappeared. Their open jaws snapped, and they barked and scratched at the car. Baying and yelping, they circled it.
The biggest dog Jack had ever seen put both its front paws on the open window and rammed its giant head in. Jack heard Replacement scream and saw her feet kick at the beast’s head, again and again, but it wouldn’t back away.
Jack pulled the gates open as far as he could, his chest muscles straining, and tried to ram himself between the gates. But his upper body went only partly through. He struggled, but the metal refused to move.
He roared louder than the dogs in a fusion of desperation and fear. The canines stopped circling the car and, as one, looked to the sound of the challenge. They snarled, and their claws raked the ground. Then the giant alpha dog howled, and the pack ran toward their new prey.
Jack smiled. He had succeeded in luring them away from Replacement. He pushed to move himself back through the gate, but found that he couldn’t budge; he was wedged fast. His legs strained, and he pressed at the gates, but his upper body stayed where it was. He tried to plant his feet, but they slipped on the frozen ground.
The dogs closed the distance. Jack’s shoulders burned as his back muscles went into overdrive. His shirt ripped open, and the metal slashed his skin. He growled, heaved, and tore himself free just as the dogs smashed into the fence. When they scrambled up, they howled in frustration.
“Donner! Blitzen!” An old man dressed in dark-blue overalls rushed into view. “Comet! Heel!” The dogs turned and raced toward the man. They nuzzled up against him, eager for praise because they had protected the junkyard.
Sully. Finally. Jack winced as he got up. All the buttons were gone from the front of his shirt, and his chest was scratched and bleeding, but he was glad not to be a chew toy right now.
“That you, Jackie?” He could never figure out why older people referred to him as Jackie.
“Yeah, it’s me, Sully. Let me in, please.” The old man walked over and unlocked the gate, and Jack darted through and headed for the Civic.
“What the hell were you thinking, boy? Heel,” the old man snapped at the growling dogs. To Jack he added, “Move slow, boy.”
“Listen, Sully.” Jack had to force himself to slow down and not run to get to Replacement. “I’m here about a car. My friend ran in to check it out.”
“What? Is your friend stupid, crazy, or both? You never go past the gate at Sullivan’s. Doesn’t everybody know that?” Sully shook his head, and his wild white hair bobbed back and forth. “Go check to see he ain’t bit. If he is, it’s his own darn fault.”
Jack jogged over to the car and found Replacement curled into a tight ball on the front seat. He grabbed the door and yanked it open. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
He touched her back, and her arms shot around his neck. She sobbed and buried her face in his shoulder. He lifted her from the car and cradled her in his arms.
“What kind of daisy is your friend, Jack? Is he bit or not? Either way, tell him to man up.”
Jack felt Replacement go rigid, and he smiled. She still has fight in her. Maybe she’s okay.
“Man up?” She wriggled her way out of Jack’s grasp. “You man up, you killer-dog-owning psycho.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. Jack noticed a small cut on her chin and another on her cheek.
“A girl? Oh—I’m so sorry, honey.” Sully went as white as his hair and looked as if he was about to faint. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?” he grumbled, and his legs wobbled.
“Me?”
Replacement rushed to the man’s side and took him by his hands, her face full of concern. How she could go from one extreme to another perplexed Jack. One second he thought she’d punch the old man in the face, and now she rushed to care for him. She shot an angry glance at Jack, but as he tried to approach, the pack growled as one.
“Easy, boys. Sit, sit!” Sully pulled one hand free from Replacement and waved at the dogs.
“Let me help you back inside,” she offered, taking her new friend by the arm. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”
The old man grinned like a schoolboy at the attention and let her lead him to the trailer. “You got cut up,” he said. “I have some bandages inside.”
Jack followed the unlikely pair at a slight distance, and the dogs followed him. He might as well have been under guard. If he got too close to Sully, they growled. If he lagged too far behind, they growled.
The office was what you’d expect for a junkyard trailer office. It smelled of mildew, cigarette smoke, and motor oil. There was a small counter and a desk covered in greasy papers. An old TV was turned on full blast across from a worn-out chair. A little space heater provided a surprising amount of heat, and Jack was grateful, considering he could no longer zip his broken jacket and was basically walking around bare-chested.
Sully had Replacement sit in the old armchair while he switched off the TV. “Sorry, I’m a bit deaf,” he apologized.
Probably from the TV.
“What brings you out, J
ackie?” Sully was asking Jack, but he was looking at Replacement. “You want a soda?” He moved over to the small brown refrigerator in the corner.
“Sully, I’m not here officially, just yet.” Jack noticed the old man’s puzzlement. “I’m looking for my missing foster sister.”
This latest bit of news caused him to pale even more. “Missing? I’m so sorry, Jackie. How can I help?” He handed a soda to Replacement and offered another to Jack, who mumbled a thank-you and put the soda in his coat pocket.
“The blue Honda Civic.” Jack cocked his head in the direction of the car. “What can you tell me about it?”
Sully reached into a drawer and took out a box of bandages. He offered them to Replacement, but she waved them off.
“That one? Found her on Reservoir Road. Totaled. Bent frame. Some kids must have rolled her.”
Jack tried not to linger on images of what had brought the Civic to its current state. “Kids? Who found it?”
“A hunter called it in. He was out on the reservoir looking for deer and said he saw a group of kids trying to start it. He thought they were stuck, but when he went to give them a hand, they all took off. Murphy said he figured we’d get the story when she showed up stolen. I haven’t heard anything, so I was going to check back with him.”
I knew it. Murphy, you moron.
Billy Murphy was only half a cop. And if he weren’t the county commissioner’s son-in-law, he wouldn’t even be that. He had his own carpentry business and worked part-time as a cop for extra money. He did mostly on-call stuff, like traffic details. Sheriff Collins couldn’t stand him, and neither could the other police officers. The work might be slow around here, but the other cops took it seriously at least.
Murphy working the car explained the error line in the police database. That jackass started to run a site inspection, screwed it up, and didn’t run it again.
Jack tried to mask his frustration. “Did Murphy search the car?”
“He gave it a once-over. We picked up some pieces of it off the road, and I brought it all back here. It was just some kids, right? They okay?” Jack could see the older man was concerned. It wasn’t his fault Murphy was lazy.
“Is it all right if I go take a look?”
Replacement jumped out of her chair and moved to the door.
“Sure, Jackie.”
Sully went first and shooed the dogs away as the three of them walked back to the car.
Jack took a deep breath and decided to start on the inside of the car. Besides little piles of broken glass, the car was clean. The keys were still in the ignition. In the glove compartment Jack found an owner’s manual, a pair of sunglasses, and some tissues.
There might be some prints left after off-and-on snow and getting towed, but no guarantees. Jack walked around to the trunk and stopped.
He closed his eyes and inhaled. He could smell the faint odor of gasoline. He looked over at Replacement, who was peering into the inside of the car.
His hand trembled.
Please, God, don’t let her be in here.
Jack opened the trunk.
It was empty.
He exhaled.
Jack pulled the trunk closed. “Were you there with Murphy when he first saw the car?”
“No. I arrived a little after he got there. It wasn’t real stuck. Oh—Ben Nichols!” Sully jumped as he suddenly remembered the name. “It was Ben, called the car in. He was bow hunting.”
“Where can I find him?” Jack reached for his notebook, normally in his uniform pocket, and frowned when he realized it was in his car.
Sully gave him detailed directions to the house.
“Thanks, Sully. Listen, can you do me one more favor?”
“Sure thing, Jackie.”
“Call Murphy and tell him the car’s still here. Tell him to check that it’s in the database. But don’t say I was here.”
Sully gave him a questioning look.
“I don’t want to embarrass him, since he must have forgotten.” I don’t want to embarrass him—I want to kill him. But this way Collins won’t know I’m looking into this.
Sully turned to Replacement. “Sorry about the dogs. Nice ta meet ya.”
“Thank you for the soda, sir.” Replacement’s eyes stayed on the mangled Civic for a moment and her shoulders slumped, sort of like the smashed-in roof of Michelle’s car. Then she and Jack trudged back to the Impala and he cranked up the heat as far as it would go, but they were both shivering and silent as they pulled back onto the road.
14
That’s Always Dangerous
“Where’s Reservoir Road?” Replacement asked.
Jack took a hard right. “Where the car was found?”
She gave him something between a nod and a shiver.
“The hunter’s place is on the way. We need to interview him and see what he knows first, then we’ll check out where they found the car.”
Jack lifted a knee against the steering wheel and breathed into his hands to heat them a bit, but it did nothing to warm the gaps in his torn jacket and shirt. He blew past a stop sign, and Replacement gave him a surprised look. He ignored it. They were running out of daylight.
The hunter said he saw kids run off, but why would kids have Michelle’s car? Did they steal it? Were they driving it, or did they find it like that?
His knuckles on the steering wheel turned white as they sped on. He slowed down when he saw the canoes Sully had told him would be there, and pulled into Nichols’s driveway. “Stay here.” He left no room for argument as he got out of the car. He left it running to keep her warm, but something bothered him about leaving Replacement in his car with the keys in it.
She scooted over to the driver’s seat before he shut his door.
“You’re not coming with me. It would look weird,” Jack tried to explain.
“You can say that again,” she answered. “You look like a Chippendales dancer.”
He frowned and didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was a compliment; he wasn’t sure. He popped the trunk and found a police sweatshirt in a gym bag. When he put it on, it was so cold he had to force himself to breathe for a few seconds.
He grabbed his notebook and pen, telegraphed to Replacement, Do not move, and jogged up to the house.
The door opened as he approached. A short, bald man with thick glasses stood in the doorway. “Can I help you?” the man asked. He had a blank stare on his face and his eyes looked odd.
Jack froze. He had forgotten he was a good ways out of town, and a different sort of people lived out here. Ben Nichols’s left hand was visible, but his right wasn’t. Jack noticed the muscles on the right side of Ben’s neck stood out.
A little guy meets me at the door with that face and the way he’s standing? He’s a hunter. Odds are there’s a shotgun in his other hand.
Jack angled his body so Ben could see the word POLICE printed across his sweater. “Mr. Nichols.” Jack forced himself not to move his hands. “I’m Officer Jack Stratton. Sully over at the auto yard said you called in the abandoned car report on Reservoir Road. I came out here to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Ben’s chest puffed up. “I’m just doing my duty, Officer.” Jack was surprised the man didn’t salute.
“I just left Sully’s, and I have a couple of questions.” Jack kept smiling, but stood very still.
“Yes, sir. Won’t you come in?” Ben opened the door wide, and Jack’s eyes went to the double-barreled shotgun in Ben’s right hand. Ben shrugged and grinned. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Certainly. Thank you.” Jack followed the man inside.
It was a pleasant home. Ben Nichols walked through a door to the left and into a large room with bookcases and a hefty, warm woodstove. Jack scuttled over to it as Ben settled onto a tan couch.
“Are you making an official report?” Ben asked. He appeared to be thrilled about the attention.
Jack coughed. “Yes. Can you please explain in your own words the events startin
g just before you found the car, Mr. Nichols?” Jack took out his notebook. People loved it when you wrote down what they said, and writing things down let Jack pay attention to the person. He could pore over the details later.
“I was out hunting near the Onopiquite Reservoir.” Ben’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, and he now sounded as if he were giving a televised report from some war zone. “I’d been out for a few hours when I first heard the kids. It was around three o’clock. There were five teens around a blue Honda Civic.”
“Do you remember where on Reservoir Road this was?”
“No, not exactly. They were due west of the reservoir.”
Jack continued to write.
“From a distance, I could see the teens were trying to start the car. I naturally assumed they’d just broken down, but as I approached to help, I could see the damage to the car. When they saw me, the perps fled the scene.”
People loved to use police jargon. Jack tried to let it go, but the word slipped out. “Perps?”
“Perpetrators,” Ben enlightened him, then continued with his narrative. “I realized afterward that the car must not have been theirs, seeing as how they ran.”
“Can you tell me anything about the teens?”
“There were five guys. They were on snowmobiles. Two rode double. Umm… one had a red coat, and another guy had a Roman thing on his head.”
“A Roman thing?” Jack stopped writing.
“Like a Mohawk? A gold one on his helmet.” Ben’s hands moved over his head. “Like a Roman soldier would wear.”
“On his helmet? Like a centurion?” Jack scribbled a quick picture of a Roman soldier’s helmet and turned the notebook around.
“That’s it.” Ben nodded.
“What about the one in the red coat? What else can you tell me about him?”
“It was a big red parka. The kid was very chunky. I think that’s why he rode alone. He was stocky. Fat.”
“Anything else about them? Jackets, hats…”
“Not really. They took off when I called out to them.”
“Have you ever seen any of them before?” Jack continued.
“I’ve seen kids snowmobiling out there a lot. I think I’ve seen the Roman kid, too.”
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 10