Detective Jack Stratton Box Set

by Christopher Greyson

  “Yes, sir.”

  As Kenny and McCann walked away, the chief turned to Jack. “Dennis Wilson. I was a friend of your dad’s, long time ago.”

  Jack shook the man’s hand, but wobbled. “Jack Stratton.”

  “What the devil are you doing, son?” The chief put his arm around Jack’s shoulders and led him over to the passenger side of the cruiser.

  “I’m drunk.”

  “And stupid. Frank wanted me to take you in. He said he already pulled you over—”

  “That’s crap. She stopped. What’s his problem?”

  “Oh, Frank’s got a chip on his shoulder. But don’t worry about him—he works for me. Now, why’d you pick a fight with Terry?”

  “I was just trying to fall asleep,” Jack mumbled as he got in the cruiser.

  “Stay with me, Jack. Now, I got Terry Bradford not to press charges, but . . .” Dennis walked over to the driver’s side, pulled the bubble light off the roof, and stuck it back on the dashboard.

  Jack tapped the light. “That’s awesome. I have to get one for my car.”

  “Good luck. They don’t make ’em anymore. That one was my dad’s.” He grinned. “Just like Starsky and Hutch.”

  Jack pressed the button. Lights flashed and the siren filled the inside of the car. The chief fumbled with the switch and shut it off.

  “Sit your butt back. You’ve caused enough problems tonight.”

  “Everything all right?” McCann called over.

  “It’s fine, Frank,” Dennis yelled back.

  “Frank’s got an attitude,” Jack said, fumbling with his seat belt as the chief started the car and pulled out of the lot.

  Dennis grunted. “He’s a good cop, and he’s been on the force longer than you’ve been alive. Show some respect.”

  “Sorry,” Jack mumbled.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Hope Falls Inn.”

  “That’s close.”

  “Maybe I should go someplace else. She’s going to be all mad.”

  “Who’s going to be mad?”

  “I tried to find out about her, but now she’s pissed.”

  “Her who?”

  “Replacement. She’s all . . .” Jack held up his hands like claws and let out a fake roar. “She cried. I hate that . . .”

  “What in the world are you talking about, son?”

  “Alice. I ran a background check . . .” Jack’s hands went up and out. “Now she’s totally nuts.”

  “You ran a background check on the girl you’re here with? And you don’t get why she’s ticked off? Maybe you did fall a little far from the tree.”

  “She didn’t want me to come here . . . but I’m gonna do this.”

  “Son, why are you in Hope Falls?”

  “I’m looking.”

  “For what?”

  “For the guy who killed my father.”

  Dennis sighed. “Is that why you went after Terry?”

  “No. He said something about . . .” Jack shrugged. “I just felt like hitting him.”

  “Everyone wants to hit Terry sometimes. But being a cop, you should know better.”

  “I don’t know jack.” Jack’s head thumped against the window, and he laughed. “Get it?”

  The older man frowned. “You’re not going to find yourself at the bottom of a bottle.”

  “I’m going to find the guy who killed Steven. It’s up to me. Cops have nothing. Cops did nothing.”

  Dennis slammed on the brakes, and Jack caught himself on the dashboard.

  “My father worked that case, Mr. Stratton. He worked it like it was his own son who got killed, so don’t you dare say he didn’t do all he could.”

  Jack leaned back against the window and turned his head to look at Dennis. “Your father? That’s right. He was chief then. Sorry. All I know is what I read in the stupid paper.”

  “Well, you need the facts and not what you read in the papers.” Dennis shook his head. “The paper here? Birds don’t even want to crap on it.”

  “Facts? How do I get the facts? You said . . . Hey! You can get me stuff. Facts.” Jack tapped Dennis’s chest.

  “If you really want to know about it, I’ll bring you up to speed. We never closed the case.”

  “Then let’s go.” Jack pointed straight ahead but then looked around, confused. “Where’s the police station?”

  “I’m not going to talk with you about it when you’re three sheets to the wind.” Dennis resumed driving and headed to the inn. Jack was surprised to see they were already almost there.

  When Dennis turned into the parking lot, Jack had to hold on to the dashboard. “Well, I got nothing, so I need help. Nothing. Nada. Zilcho.”

  Dennis put the cruiser in park and frowned at Jack. “Sleep it off. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

  Jack got out of the cruiser and held tightly to the door to maintain his balance. “Thank you,” he slurred.

  “Get some sleep.”

  The room door squeaked as Jack staggered through. Replacement rushed up to him, but she quickly made a face as though she’d smelled a skunk and stepped back.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Drinking? No. I drank. I drink . . . drunk.”

  “Jack, I . . . Can you stand right here?” She tapped her foot on the floor next to the bed. Jack walked in a curvy line to the spot and stopped.

  Replacement closed the door, then returned. “Look at me.”

  Jack pivoted around, his upper body swinging in a wide arc. He grinned lopsidedly as he straightened up to face her; the backs of his legs almost touched the bed.

  Replacement slammed both hands into his chest, which knocked him onto the bed. Jack groaned from the impact and landed with his arms outstretched. He struggled to sit up, but before he could, she had grabbed his foot and peeled off his shoe.

  “Shut up,” she snapped as she yanked off the other shoe.

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “Yes, you are.” She walked around to the top of the bed. “Sit up.”

  Jack struggled to maintain a sitting position while Replacement grabbed him and peeled off his shirt. She made a face and tossed it in the corner.

  Her hands on his belt made him gasp. “Hold—”

  She smacked his hand away. “I said shut up.” She yanked his belt open and undid the button on his pants. “Roll over.” She groaned as she pulled him onto his stomach.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled into the soft sheets.

  “I have a feeling you will be.” She pulled off his jeans.

  Jack tried to say something else, but the bed was so soft and he was so tired, all that came out was a light snore.

  20

  How Did I Get Out of My Clothes?

  Jack opened one eye and groaned. His head hurt so badly he didn’t want to move. He tried to remember the details from the night before.

  Stupid background check. Bar. Lots of drinks. Terry Bradford. Damn. Cops. McCann. I’m so screwed.

  He sat up and rubbed his face. His mouth tasted like mothballs. I need a shower.

  He groaned as he rolled off the bed, swaying unsteadily when he stood. His stomach turned. He looked down at his pants on the floor and frowned.

  How did I get out of my clothes? He held on to the furniture as he stumbled to the bathroom, where he found Replacement in the tub, surrounded by blankets and pillows.

  She rubbed her eyes. “I hoped you’d sleep longer,” she said groggily.

  “Did you sleep in the tub?”

  “Not too well.”

  “I’m sorry. I was an ass.” Jack held out his hand. “Let me help you.”

  “Look at your hand.”

  “Ah . . .” Jack looked down at his swollen hand, noting the dried blood he was sure didn’t belong to him.

  She glared at him. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t start it.”

  “Didn’t start what? With who?”

  “Terry Bradford. He came into the bar and got in my
face.”

  “How is he?”

  “Breathing.”

  Her eyes widened. “Hospital?”

  Jack shook his head. “The cops came.”

  “Cops? You got arrested?”

  Jack winced. “No. Chief Wilson came, the guy Terry Martinez told us about.”

  “Did you ask him about the case?”

  “I don’t know.” Jack rubbed his face.

  “What? Did he ask you anything?”

  “I screwed up.” He leaned against the sink. “I can’t remember. I’m an idiot.”

  “Yeah. You said that, and I still agree. Go soak your head.” She removed the bedding from the tub and carried it out.

  Jack took his time in the shower, lingering until the last of the hot water ran out, and he still didn’t want to get out. But finally the cold water forced him to retreat from his sanctuary. As he turned off the water, he heard voices in the room and dressed quickly.

  Chief Dennis Wilson was sitting in the chair, and Replacement was on the loveseat.

  Dennis stood and stared at Jack. “I can’t believe my eyes, boy. You really do look just like your old man.” He and Jack shook hands. “I was talking to your girl here, and she told me you ain’t been sleeping. You’ve been having nightmares and such, so you decided to go looking for your father.”

  Jack resisted the urge to look at Replacement. “Sorry about last night, sir.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I heard what he said about Patty. Sounds like he deserved a punch in the jaw.”

  Jack just nodded.

  “I was Steve’s friend. If you need help, just ask. He would’ve done anything for me. So what can I do for you, Jack?”

  Replacement cleared her throat.

  Jack held up a hand. “I’ve been flying blind. Do you know the case?”

  “I’m the chief—of course I know the case. Never been solved, unfortunately. You got something new?”

  Jack shook his head. This time he looked at Replacement, who gave a small, understanding nod.

  “No. It’s like Alice said. I’ve just been thinking about it, and decided to come and check into it.”

  Dennis sighed. “Well, I’m glad to help, then. I don’t know if you remember last night, but you said you had nothing to go on except what you read in the papers. So I had my secretary copy the case files. They’re on the desk right there.” The pile of manila folders was eight inches high. Jack thanked him.

  “But before I give them to you, I need you to be straight with me, and I’ll be straight with you. You’re a cop and Steve’s son, so I’m giving you some leeway—but before you do anything, you talk to me, understand? If you go off again, there’ll be consequences.”

  “I get it.”

  “Do you? I know your boss, Sheriff Collins. That guy is so by the book, I think he has it shoved—” He looked at Replacement and cleared his throat. “Well, from what you’ve said, this is a lot for anyone to handle all at once. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

  “I got it.” Jack rubbed the sides of his head.

  “Maybe we should just take it easy. Treat this like a real vacation,” Replacement said.

  Jack leaned against the bathroom doorway. “Vacation? What am I supposed to do on vacation?”

  “You fish?” Dennis asked.

  “Not since high school.”

  “Well, we’ve got some of the best fishing around. A little advice. Go get a fishing rod and take a break.”

  “Where?”

  “You drove over Mill Brook River when you got off the highway,” Dennis said. “Head back that way and take a right before the bridge. There’s a little pond. Your dad and I used to go there all the time. There’s a path that goes all the way around. On the right are two large rocks, and right there is the deep spot. Catfish big as your arm.”

  “Got it.”

  “A little before the bridge is a bait and tackle shop, can’t miss it. You can get some gear there. After you go fishing, if you still want to, we’ll talk.”

  “Okay.”

  Dennis waved to Replacement. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Jack walked Dennis to the door and held out his hand. “Thanks again. I appreciate you smoothing things over with Terry.”

  Dennis shook his hand, then winked at Replacement. “Keep an eye on him, sweetie.”

  “So,” Replacement said, “do you want something to eat before we go fishing?”

  Jack didn’t think his stomach was ready for food just yet. “I’m good.” He moved over to the desk and switched on the lamp.

  “Well, I’m not going to miss out on that delicious breakfast just because you’re hungover. I’ll go down and see if I’m allowed to bring something up to the room. Be right back.”

  When the door closed behind her, Jack just sat and stared at the stack the chief had brought. He wanted to find his father’s killer, but he wasn’t eager to know what was in those files. Finally, he took a deep breath and pulled over the first file.

  He opened it and was glad he hadn’t eaten anything yet. In the crime scene photo, Steven lay on his back. His eyes were closed, bruises covered his face, and his shirt and his pants were soaked in blood. Jack’s stomach churned; he snapped the file closed.

  God . . . Please help me.

  He’d looked at a thousand different crime scene photos before. All of them had left their mark, but these weren’t of some stranger—they were of his father. Jack wasn’t ready for this. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands, trying to pull himself together.

  When Replacement returned with a tray of food, he was still sitting in the same position.

  “We’ll eat something, and then— Jack, what’s wrong?” She rushed over and knelt beside his chair. “Oh, Jack . . .”

  Jack straightened up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve seen three different pictures of my father. Only three.” He flipped open the folder. “This is the third.”

  Replacement quickly closed the folder. “Jack, I’m so sorry.” She picked up the stack of folders and quickly moved it over to the bed, out of reach.

  “I need to get through this,” Jack said. “I should see the photos.”

  She rubbed his shoulders. “You can look at all that tomorrow.”

  “I want to see the police reports.” His shoulders tensed, and she stopped for a minute.

  Replacement sighed, and her massage resumed, gentle but firm. “But no photos. And only if you promise to take a break this afternoon and do something else.”

  Jack nodded. I can do this.

  For the next couple of hours, they went through the files. Replacement carefully sifted through each folder before passing it to Jack, to make sure there were no photos. Then Jack would read the paperwork, calling out what he felt were important details, and Replacement would jot them down in the purple notebook. Jack’s head pounded, but he forced himself to keep going.

  But when they’d gone through everything, they still had almost as little information as they’d had before. Jack paced the floor. “No suspects. No enemies. No motives. Nothing, after all these years. And nothing similar, before or since.”

  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  “Don’t be. This has still been good. It’s helped us to rule out a lot.” He cracked his neck. “They couldn’t figure it out, but we will.”

  21

  Can They Get Out?

  Ron’s Bait, Tackle, and Sports was easy to find with Chief Wilson’s excellent directions. They headed straight for the fishing section.

  “Look at this thing,” Replacement said, holding up a big, floppy hat with mosquito netting. “The bugs must have teeth out here.”

  Jack chuckled. “There won’t be any out now.” He picked up a fishing kit made to fit in a car trunk. It came with a collapsible rod and all the tackle he’d need. “Do you want your own rod?”

  Replacement made a face as if he’d just offered her a flu shot. “No thanks.�
�� She pointed to a female mannequin in a pink wetsuit. “That’s really cute.”

  “Where would you use that around here?” Jack wondered.

  “Big Bear Run.” They turned toward the voice and saw a short man with a large smile. “It’s just ten miles down the interstate. Deepest lake in the state. Welcome to Ron’s, by the way. I’m Ron.”

  “A little too cold for swimming.” Jack followed Ron to the back counter. “I’ll just take this and a dozen worms.” He looked over, and sure enough, Replacement’s face was scrunching up at just the idea of worms.

  Ron reached into a small refrigerator behind the counter, pulled out a Styrofoam cup, and handed it to Jack. “I got a great starter kit, if you want a setup for your girlfriend.” He pointed to a purple rod.

  Replacement quickly and emphatically shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t fish.”

  Jack paid for everything and they headed for the car. He put the tackle box and rod in the back, and when they were both settled in, he held out the cup to Replacement. “Do you mind holding them?”

  “Them?”

  “The worms.”

  Replacement whacked his shoulder and scooted over against the door. “Gross!”

  Seeing a chance for some mischief, Jack peered into the container. “I just didn’t want it to tip over. Hmm, they’re only wriggling a little.” He set them on the seat next to them, and she squeezed herself next to the door, waving her hands as if the car was swarming with killer bees. “Not there! In the trunk! Get them out of here!”

  “Come on. Don’t be so dramatic. This is why men usually like to go fishing alone, by the way.”

  She was so upset, she could only restate the obvious: “They’re worms!” Jack got out and wedged the worm cup beside the gear in the trunk.

  Ten minutes later, the Impala was bumping down a narrow road through thick pines toward the water. After a few twists and turns, they stopped in a gravel parking lot. Across a grassy, sun-dappled field dotted with picnic tables, the small lake glistened, and Jack suddenly couldn’t wait to get down to the water.

  He grabbed the gear and wriggling worms from the trunk. As he slammed the trunk shut, he heard the crunch of gravel down the road—the sound of a car stopping. He looked toward the sound, but couldn’t see through the trees. The unseen car turned around and sped off.