She picked up the pile of bedding, but Jack stopped her in the doorway and held his hand up like a cop directing traffic. “Sleep on your side. We’ll put a pillow barrier between us.”
“Really?” She squeezed the pillow tightly to her chest and her dimples got even bigger.
“Yeah, really.”
While Jack was in the bathroom, Replacement divided the bed with a rolled-up blanket down the middle and turned off the lights. Jack slipped under the covers onto his side. As he lay on his back and stared into the darkness, he settled into the softness and let the warmth of the bed radiate into his body.
I have a grandmother. Weird.
On the other side of the blanket divider, Replacement wriggled and flopped, and the whole bed shook until she was comfortable. “Isn’t this bed awesome?” she whispered.
Jack’s eyelids were so heavy he could barely lift them. “Yeah. Can I ask you a question?” He opened one eye to find Replacement’s face right next to his. He pulled his face back. “I’m glad they have toothbrushes.”
“Me, too, and it’s a really good one. I was thinking, free? It’s gotta be one of those ones that fall apart and the bristles get stuck in your teeth, you know what I mean?”
Jack smiled even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “So, I have two questions.” She leaned closer. “Is there, like, a Grandmother’s Day?”
“Aww, you’re so sweet. I’m sure there is; I’ll look it up. What’s the second question?”
“How did you end up at Aunt Haddie’s?”
Replacement was quiet for a minute. “My parents died. My whole family. And that was it.” She closed her eyes. “One minute I was so happy: my mom, dad, and my two little brothers, Andrew and Alex. . . . There was a car accident. I don’t remember it. Someone coming the other way fell asleep.”
Jack gently placed his hand on top of hers.
She opened her eyes. “I woke up in the hospital alone. I wasn’t even badly hurt. I just wanted to go home. But they . . . they said I couldn’t.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Anyway. My grandparents died before I was born, and I had no aunts or uncles. So I became a ward of the state.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said.
She moved closer.
“It’s okay. My parents were really nice. They owned a flower shop before—. They did everything together. My dad treated me like a princess. He’d bring home a flower for me every day. We didn’t have a lot of money. At least that’s what I was told. No savings.”
“Didn’t anybody ever try to . . . you know . . . to adopt you?”
“Of course. I’m a prize.” She struck a funny pose, then her voice became serious. “I was nine when they died. I went . . . to a different place first . . . before Aunt Haddie’s.”
Jack rolled onto his back. “Where was that?”
There was a long pause, but Jack could hear the change in her breathing, a hitch and a strain.
“It was a bad place,” she said.
Jack didn’t need to look at her to know she was fighting back tears and rage.
She cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter. Afterward, they sent me to Aunt Haddie’s. She tried to get me adopted. A few times they had a couple come out. By that time, though, you and Chandler were in the Army, and, well, Aunt Haddie needed me. And I really loved her. So, whenever anybody came around to meet me, I . . . sorta acted a little weird so they wouldn’t take me. If you know what I mean.”
He turned on his side with his back to her so she couldn’t see how upset he was. “You’re a good person,” he finally said. His voice was low, and his throat was tight.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for asking.”
Jack closed his eyes hard and tried to breathe slowly.
Life is hard. Hard for a lot of people. Something happened to her at the first house. Something really bad. Alice has a heart of gold in spite of it. She doesn’t let it define her like I do. What am I doing?
23
The Widow’s Walk
Jack had already scanned the police files once more, and now, sitting at the desk in the inn’s small room, he was taking a look at the yearbooks Replacement had “borrowed.” She was still sleeping.
She let out a contented sigh that resonated deep within her chest. Jack cracked his neck and looked over at her. Her arm was draped over the rolled-up blanket that had served as their nighttime barrier. She pulled it closer, and her leg rose up as she purred.
Jack smiled, but as he turned back to the desk to work, his eyes caught a glimpse of her thigh. He closed his eyes and turned around, but another soft moan made him rethink.
Don’t go there, Jack . . .
He coughed. Loudly.
Replacement’s eyes flew open.
“Good morning,” Jack said.
“I, uh . . . I . . . you’re up.” She pulled the comforter around her as the color rose in her cheeks.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Great! Did you like sleeping with me?” She froze. “I meant, I liked sleeping with you. I mean, you . . . I enjoyed it . . . How’d you sleep?”
Jack grinned, but kept his eyes on his work. “I slept great.”
Replacement slipped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. Jack grabbed another yearbook. He’d already looked through it once, but he started at the beginning and carefully scanned each page.
What’re you missing, Jack?
He had learned long ago to trust that ‘check’ inside him. Call it what you want—intuition, Spidey-sense, or a gut instinct—he trusted it. Every time he even thought about the yearbook, he got that feeling. So now he studied each face in every photo and read every typed word. His hand stopped on page 15.
No way . . .
Jack glared down at the picture of a man in his late twenties, dressed in a dark suit and tie. His light-brown hair was on the long side, and he had a dashing smile. TERRENCE WATKINS, Guidance Counselor.
Replacement came out of the bathroom, already dressed but still drying her hair. “Find anything?”
“A guidance counselor named Terry. Patty was a kid in trouble. She may have gone to him.”
Replacement looked at the picture. “A teacher?” Her finger jabbed the yearbook. “He’s, like, way older. What a dirtbag.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions, but I’ll call Cindy.”
Replacement stamped her foot. “I can’t believe I didn’t bring my laptop.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Wait a minute. I want to go check something.” Replacement headed for the door.
“Hold up.” Jack grabbed his keys and hurried after her.
“Kristine must have a computer,” Replacement yelled as she raced down the staircase.
Jack thumped down the stairs after her and called out, “I don’t think the original colonists had the Internet, so that would be—”
He stopped when he saw Kristine at the front desk, talking to an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a handlebar mustache. He looked familiar, and he looked ticked off.
Jack clicked his tongue. “That was . . . just a little historical joke.”
Replacement smiled at Kristine. “Was Jack’s dad a wise guy too?”
Kristine laughed. “Sure was.”
The man with the mustache scowled at Jack, then looked back at Kristine. “Can we speak in private?”
Kristine led him into the room behind the counter, but Jack positioned himself so he could see. Jack could only hear the man’s low rumble, but he was obviously agitated. Kristine was unfazed, however. Her lips were pressed together in a suppressed smile, and she just nodded her head as if she were humoring a toddler having a tantrum. Finally the man put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for her response. To Jack’s surprise, she smiled and kissed the man’s cheek affectionately.
When they came back out, the man saw Jack staring. He left with a scowl.
“I’ve seen him before,” Jack said to
Kristine.
“I just heard all about it. He gave me an earful and told me to watch out for you. You met him the other night.”
Jack groaned. “The EMT.”
“His name’s Dale, and he’s my overprotective big brother. You didn’t make the best first impression.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t imagine I did.”
“So. Did you guys need something?” Kristine asked.
Replacement pressed her hands together. “I was wondering, do you have a computer?”
“There’s one back in the office.” Kristine looked playfully at Jack. “Next to the telegraph machine.”
Replacement laughed.
Kristine led them through the small room behind the desk, into an even smaller office. There was barely enough room for a desk, a chair, and a tiny filing cabinet in the corner. A window looked out on the backyard and the woods beyond. Kristine pointed Replacement to a rolltop desk fitted out with a computer.
Replacement’s lip curled up as she sat down. “I thought Jack was kidding about a Pilgrim owning this thing. This computer must be older than me!”
“That isn’t a high bar to overcome,” Kristine said with a smile.
While Replacement got started on the computer, Jack decided to see if Kristine could be of any help with his newest lead. “Did you know a Terrence Watkins?” he asked.
“The name isn’t familiar.”
“He was a guidance counselor.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Watkins.” Kristine’s nostrils flared. “I remember him now. He was a creep.”
“Did he do something to upset you?” Jack reached in vain for the notebook that was typically in his chest pocket and grabbed a pen and pad off the desk.
“He started there my senior year. I’ll never forget the way he ogled me. He had me sit in this low chair, and then he would sit on the edge of the desk.”
“So he could look down your shirt,” Replacement snapped as she continued to type, never taking her eyes off the screen.
“Seriously?” Jack asked.
Kristine patted Jack’s arm. “A lot of guys are scumbags.”
“Jack doesn’t get it, since he’s one of the good ones,” Replacement said.
Kristine smiled. “Yes, I know.”
“Is this him?” Replacement pointed at the monitor. Jack and Kristine stepped over to look.
“Yep, that’s him,” Kristine answered. “Looks like he has a bad toupee now. Matches his personality.”
“It says here he’s married. Doesn’t mention kids. He’s a real estate salesman now. Give me a few minutes and I’ll find out some more.”
Kristine touched Replacement’s shoulder affirmingly. “Take your time. I have no idea what you’re doing anyway. Jack, would you like to join me for a cup of tea?”
“Hmm, that depends. Got any chamomile?” Kristine laughed.
Jack leaned down beside Replacement. “What about you, computer geek girl? Do you want a cup?”
Replacement didn’t even look up. “Tea? No thanks.”
Kristine and Jack walked into the other room. As Kristine poured two cups of tea, she said, “I was hoping we could talk.”
It’s never a good thing when a female says that.
Jack moved over to the couch, but before he sat down, Kristine added, “Not here—upstairs. I want to show you something. Bring some tea.” She handed him a teacup and smiled invitingly.
“Okay . . .” Jack gestured toward the door. “After you. You’ve certainly piqued my interest.”
On the third floor, Kristine led Jack to a small alcove where a wooden staircase led up.
“I thought there were only three stories,” Jack said.
Kristine grinned. “Come on.”
The stairs led up through a trap door to the roof, and onto a widow’s walk enclosed on all sides by glass. Just inside the glass panels were ornate railings of wrought iron, fashioned to look like vines and flowers.
But that wasn’t what made Jack’s mouth fall open in awe. As he turned in a complete circle and looked around, he was met with a breathtaking view of Hope Falls. He gazed out over the forest, which stretched off into the distance behind the inn. “Wow . . . This is beautiful.”
“It was the reason I bought the inn,” Kristine said. “I’ve had to have a lot of work done, but almost none up here. It’s my favorite place on earth.”
“I can see why.” Jack turned to look in all directions. A long field sloped off to the north, rising hills sparkled in the south and, as he looked west, he could see Buckmaster Pond in the distance. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”
“It wasn’t the only reason I wanted to get you alone. I wanted to talk to you about Steven.” Kristine placed a hand on his elbow.
“I might need coffee if we’re going down that road.” Jack swirled the tea in the dainty cup.
“I think you need to know.” She walked over to face the forest. “I take it from what you’ve said that Patty didn’t talk about him, and . . . I know it sounds strange, but—it would be nice if part of him could be passed along.”
Tears are coming.
Jack took a step forward, but Kristine held out a hand to stop him.
“You’ll hear things about Steven from his mother, and that’s a part of him. She’ll talk about Steven, the son. And Terry Martinez or Dennis Wilson can talk about Steven, the friend. But . . . well, there’s no one else to talk about Steven, the man.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and he watched her try to compose herself. “Steven went to my school, but I didn’t really know him. He was a class under me, and I thought anyone younger than me was . . . less. What a snob I was. I’d been seeing Bryan Ross. He was a real jerk, but at the time I didn’t think I could do any better.
“Anyway, one Friday night, I was on a date at a little fast food place downtown. I brought the food back to our table and I dropped Bryan’s drink. It spilled all over the table—and Bryan. I was trying to clean up the mess—and doing my best not to cry at the same time—when Steven ran over. He grabbed some napkins and started helping me clean up the floor.
“The drink had gone all over Bryan’s pants. He called me a stupid heifer. And then . . . Steven stood up and punched him in the mouth.” Kristine shook her head. “Bryan ran out to his car and took off. I ran after him, but he was gone. I just stood there, crying in the parking lot. And then Steven came up and offered to give me a ride home. He ran around the corner and came back with his bike.”
She laughed. “Jack, you and he have the same smirk. He said, ‘I didn’t mean I’d drive you home, just that I’d give you a ride. Your chariot, my lady,’ and he gave a little bow. He jogged beside me all the way to my house. We talked while I rode. I never told him I took the long way because I didn’t want it to end. I fell in love with him that day.”
Her eyes glistened, but she was still smiling. “Steven sealed the deal when we got to my street. Bryan had come back looking for me, and he saw us. He was too scared of Steven to stop, but he drove by and teased him about not having a car. Steven didn’t seem to care. I asked him why. He looked me in the eye and said, ‘My dad used to say, “Never be embarrassed if you do your best.” My bike is the best I can offer you. Besides, Bryan was so stupid not to treat you like gold. Why would I care what he thinks?’”
The corner of Jack’s mouth ticked up. “That kinda sounds like how I’d handle it.”
As they stood there looking out over the forest, Kristine went on to tell Jack everything she knew about the man who was Jack’s father. The similarities in their personalities floored him. Many times he found himself fighting back his emotions, but much more often, the things he heard made him smile. She talked about times when they were alone and even some private things they’d said, but it didn’t feel wrong; Jack knew it was her way of passing on Steven’s memory. A week ago, Jack had had no idea who his birth father was; now he found himself gathering Kristine’s stories about him like the priceless gifts that they were.<
br />
“And then I went to college . . .” Kristine lowered her head.
“You broke up with him before you went?”
“No. We were going to have a long-distance relationship. Steven was confident. And trusting. But he was wrong.”
Jack waited patiently while the silence grew.
“I called him,” Kristine finally said, shifting her feet. “I couldn’t do it to his face. There wasn’t anyone else, but I thought . . . I thought I was so smart and so special.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her lip trembled. “My new friends at college said I could do better. So I broke up with him, but I never said why.”
“You never told him?” The words escaped Jack’s lips before he could stop them. He could see the impact immediately. Kristine hunched her shoulders and squeezed her arms tightly around herself.
“What could I say? That I was selfish? That I was a spoiled brat? He came to see me.” She turned her face from him, staring off after the memory. “He drove twelve hours straight to ask me, and I still didn’t tell him.” She shook her head. “He came back again two weeks after that. He said he just wanted to know why. I could tell how hurt he was, but I just turned my back. I walked away from the nicest man I have ever known . . . to a group of girls whose names I can’t even remember. Back then they were so important to me.” She leaned her head against the glass. “They were laughing, and I joined them. That was the last time I ever saw him.”
Jack stared at her reflection in the glass.
“I thought I was so special.” She looked up at him. “And do you know why? I thought I was so special because that’s how he treated me. That’s what he always told me. It was him—he made me special.” She started to cry. “You don’t know how much I regretted it. If I hadn’t done that, he never would have . . .”
Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “You told me a lot about my father. I feel like he and I are a lot alike.” She nodded, but her face was still wet with tears.
Jack turned her to face him. “Will you do me a favor?” he asked. “Close your eyes.” She looked puzzled, but she did as he asked.
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 40