Two Point reached behind some old paint cans and pulled out a green milk crate filled with an assortment of loot: a car stereo, cell phones, CDs, some expensive-looking sunglasses. On top of it all was a GPS.
“No way,” Jack said. “It looks like this day isn’t that cursed after all.”
Two Point handed Jack the GPS. It tipped forward and a stream of water poured into Jack’s palm. Two Point looked up at the basketball-size hole in the roof. “Crap. Rain got in it.”
The GPS looked new, except for the water, which was still leaking out. There was a sticker on the back.
LIBERTY CAR RENTAL. SCHENECTADY, NEW YORK.
A sharp current surged through Jack’s body, and he turned to Two Point. “Off to the cops we go.”
“Right now?”
Jack grinned as he took hold of Tommy’s skinny arm and half dragged him to the Impala. “Right now is the best time in the world to do the right thing.”
30
You Do Think I’m Stupid
Jack strode through the doors of the police station—Two Point in one hand and the GPS in the other, like a treasure hunter with his prize—and marched up to the front desk.
“Detective Clark, please. Jack Stratton.”
The desk sergeant called the detective, and after a few minutes, Detective Clark pushed through a door, a storm cloud over his head that looked about to dispense lightning and thunder.
“Before you yell at me, just listen for one minute,” Jack said firmly. “This is Tommy Martin. Jay’s brother, the one with the APB. He stole this GPS”—Jack placed it on the desk—“from a car in Hamilton Park the night Stacy was killed. There’s a sticker on the back—it’s from Liberty Car Rental in Schenectady. I believe Michael Shaw rented that car.”
Clark’s eyebrows were raised so high, Jack thought they might disappear into his receding hairline. He couldn’t tell whether this was a good or bad sign. He took a deep breath.
“I think he rented a car and came back and killed his wife.”
Detective Clark looked down at the GPS as though it were a pipe bomb. When he looked up at Jack, the pleased smile Jack expected was not to be seen.
“Wait here.” Clark walked over to a man in a suit. Jack thought he recognized him from the night Jay was arrested. The two spoke briefly, then Clark handed him the GPS and said to Jack, “Come with me.” Motioning for two uniformed officers to follow him, he led Jack and Two Point down the hall toward the interrogation rooms.
Jack wasn’t eager to go back there. “Can we talk in your office?” he asked.
“You.” Clark pointed at Two Point. “In there.” He motioned for one of the cops to accompany Two Point into a room. “Make sure you pat him down,” he added.
Two Point looked at Jack, eyes wide and full of fear. Jack tried to offer a reassuring look back, but the officer pulled the door shut.
Clark walked to the next interrogation room and held the door open for Jack.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Jack mumbled as he entered the room.
“Up against the wall,” Clark said calmly.
“What for?”
“Just do it.”
Jack assumed the position. Clark patted him down, then gestured for Jack to sit in the chair.
“Start right after you left me.” Clark’s words popped with clarity.
Jack was confused and tired. Detective Clark’s face was crimson, and the vein at his temple throbbed. Jack had thought the detective was going to be so happy he’d solved the case…maybe Clark would suggest the town hold an official Jack Stratton Day. The last thing he’d expected was for Clark to look as if he was about to explode.
“I got home. My dad picked me up after you called him, and he gave me a long lecture. Then Tommy called. He’d heard Jay was in the hospital and he wanted to confess.”
“And he offered you the GPS as proof?”
“No. I was asking how he found Stacy’s wallet—”
“Jay Martin stole Stacy’s wallet.”
“No, he didn’t. Tommy found it. Right near where I found her body. The thirteenth bench. It was in the handbag. Tommy took the wallet and threw the handbag into the woods. Robyn, the homeless lady, found it there.”
“How’d Tommy get the GPS?”
“Tommy’s been stealing from cars around Hamilton Park, and he stole from a green car that night. The way I figure it, Michael Shaw rented a car in Schenectady and drove back to Fairfield. He only used the hotel as an alibi. So he parks and waits in the woods to kill his wife. Tommy comes along and boosts the GPS from the rental car.”
Jack leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and legs, and attempted a grin. “Proof.”
Clark’s vein continued to throb. “Wait here,” he said. He and the policeman left.
It took Jack a second to realize why the cop didn’t wait with him this time. He was eighteen and no longer a minor.
Jack waited.
And waited.
After at least half an hour of waiting, he tried the door. Locked.
Jack pounded on the door until a policeman opened it up.
“Where’s Detective Clark?”
“He’ll be back when he gets back. Keep it down or we’ll have to come in and restrain you.”
“Restrain me?”
“Yes.”
“You said, ‘when he gets back’? Did he leave? Like leave the station?”
“Just wait here,” the cop said gruffly. He shut and relocked the door.
Jack went back to the table and sat down. He didn’t know what Clark was up to, but he did trust him. He folded his arms on the table and laid his head down.
The door to the interview room opened. Jack sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Vargas strutted in with a look of disgust on his face. A uniformed policeman followed him. The policeman stood against the door while Vargas walked over to the table and set down the evidence bag with the GPS inside.
“Nice try, Stratton. It didn’t work.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, confused. “It was filled with water, but you can check the memory card or something, right?”
“I’m not talking about that,” Vargas snapped. “You do think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’m talking about your ruse.”
“My ruse?”
“You think slapping a fake sticker on this GPS and a false confession is going to screw up my case? It won’t.”
Now Jack was completely confused. “Fake sticker?”
“Clark believed you, you know. He drove all the way out to Schenectady. He checked with Liberty Car Rental and had them pull all the car rental records. Michael Shaw didn’t rent a car, and they’re not missing any GPSs.”
Jack stared blankly at the table. His heart went so cold his chest hurt. “I don’t understand.”
Vargas put one hand on the table and leaned down so he could put his face right near Jack’s.
“That can’t be right,” Jack stammered. “Did you check the travel records on the GPS? Did you pull the memory card?”
“The damn thing’s filled with water. Our IT guys said the memory card is ruined. No one’s getting any data off that thing, which I’m sure you know.”
“I don’t get it,” Jack muttered in disbelief.
“What? What was that?” Vargas laughed. This time it was real. He laughed hard. “Oh, you are priceless. I think Clark might be right. You may just be a gullible boob. The sticker’s fake.”
“There has to be another explanation.”
“Get real, Stratton. And what’s Shaw’s motive for killing his wife?”
Jack sat up. “Maybe he killed her for the money?”
“Money? If he planned to kill her for money, he did a lousy job. Do you know how much life insurance they had? None.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Maybe he… Maybe he just went crazy? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m with you there. Your theories are crazy. Michael Shaw was in Schenectady the whole night. You
know how I know that? Facts. Michael Shaw called Stacy from Schenectady on his cell phone. There’s a record of that call, and it bounced off the cell tower in Schenectady.”
Jack sat for a moment, racking his brain. “I think I can explain that. There’s this phone app. Shaw works for the company. It can call—”
Vargas kicked the chair across the room. “Shut up, Stratton!” he roared. “I just brought a grieving widower back in here today because of you!” His lip trembled—Jack thought it was from anger until he looked at Vargas’s face. The detective’s eyes were moist.
“And I leaned hard on him. I accused him,” Vargas continued. “Do you know what Shaw did? He cried. Real tears. Do you have any idea what that felt like for me? No, because Boy Wonder seems to think that his hunches are better than anything the police—highly trained professionals—could ever come up with. But I did it because it’s my job, so I had to re-interview him because of you and your damn fake evidence. You made that necessary. You’re trying to frame a man whose wife was murdered, you piece of garbage.”
“No.” Jack shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “The sticker’s not fake. It’s not. Shaw could have—”
“Shut up. There’s always an answer with you, but not anymore.”
“But why would someone put a fake sticker on a GPS? Listen—”
“You have the right to remain silent.” Vargas took out his handcuffs. “I suggest you use it, because I don’t want to hear anything else come out of your mouth.”
He held the handcuffs out to the policeman at the door. As Vargas continued to read Jack his rights, and the other cop put the cuffs on, he felt as if the whole world had shifted. His head spun and his breathing was labored.
Vargas picked up the chair he’d kicked over. “I’m charging you,” he said, “for impeding a police investigation.”
Jack’s breath hitched.
“You were warned to stay away from the investigation by a law enforcement official, yet you continued to impede my investigation.” He tapped his chest with his thumb. “I’m also charging you with being in possession of stolen property.”
Were J-Dog and Two Point playing me all along?
Jack’s mouth ran faster than his spinning head. He spoke before he thought it through. “If you think I faked the GPS and the sticker, how can you charge me with stealing it? Wouldn’t it be mine?”
Vargas’s chair scraped across the floor as he shoved it into the table. “Congratulations on flushing your life down the toilet. You could have gone into the Army like you said you wanted. But no. You chose the wrong path. Now no Private Stratton. No Detective Stratton. Now you are, and forever will be…just Jack.”
The door shut with the finality of a coffin lid.
31
Consequences
His father hadn’t spoken a word since picking Jack up at the police station. But as they drove home, Jack saw the strain in his face.
When they reached a red light, his dad finally broke the silence with a sigh. “You disobeyed me.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.” He was having trouble with his voice and had to clear his throat. “I’m really sorry.”
“Why? What was going through your head? Was there anything going through your head?”
Ted looked at his son, and Jack was shocked by how haggard, tired, and old his father looked. This was a disaster. How could he have been so off-base?
Jack ran down everything that had happened, as much for himself as for his father: the phone call from Tommy, the GPS, talking to Clark, getting arrested. “But I’m telling you that sticker’s not fake. It’s not, Dad. It has streaks on it from the water, too. I looked when Vargas brought it back in.”
“But the car rental place isn’t missing any GPSs. And there’s no record of Michael Shaw renting a car.”
Jack leaned his head against the window. “I can’t explain it. But Dad—”
“Right now, we need to let things cool down.” His father sighed again, but this time it was longer, sadder. “Even if we do manage to work things out, I think you need to rethink going into the Army.”
The words cut Jack to the core. “What? Why?”
“The Army is all about following orders, son.”
Jack’s shoulders slumped.
“It’s your decisions lately, Jack. Time and again you’re just rushing in. You act without thinking of the consequences.”
“I had to do something. What was I supposed to do?”
“You should have called the police, how many times do I have to tell you that? You put yourself in a dangerous position, and others as well.”
“I’m going into the Army. That kinda puts me in a dangerous position twenty-four seven.”
His father frowned. “Smart-ass comments won’t help.”
“I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter now anyway. With this on my record, the Army won’t take me now.”
“I spoke with Detective Clark. He thinks if we let things cool down, he might be able to get Vargas to drop the charges.”
Jack sat up. “Hold up. What did you just say?”
His dad leaned back. “Jack, I said they might drop the charges. I don’t know if you fully understand the gravity of the situation.”
“No. Wait.” Jack shook his head rapidly, as if trying to knock a thought into place. “You said smart-ass.”
“What?”
“Dad.” Jack’s face lit up. “That’s what the homeless guy said to me.”
“What?”
“The homeless guy who sleeps at that bench.” Jack’s palm smacked the dashboard. “He said some smart-ass broke the light.”
“I’m not following.”
“He’s a witness.”
“What are you talking about? A homeless man? Your mother said you spoke with Alex—”
“No. I talked to this other homeless guy in the park”—Jack flipped frantically through his notes in his mind—“Murray. He saw the killer.”
“He saw the murder?”
“No, he wasn’t there that night. But he saw the killer.”
“You’re not making any sense. If he didn’t see the murder, how did he see the killer?” His dad shook his head. “Jack, start at the beginning.”
“Dad, we need to go to the park.”
His father looked at him as though he’d just lost his mind. “Are you listening to yourself? Are you listening to me? To anyone?”
“Dad, if I figured out there’s a witness, then whoever the killer is may have figured it out too. If the killer realizes they left a witness behind, they’ll go after him. Murray’s life is in danger.”
“Then we call Clark.”
“No. He’s not going to send someone out to protect a homeless guy, certainly not on my word. Dad, I feel it in my gut. We have to go now.”
“Jack…please listen. There’s still a chance, a very slim one, that you can salvage your career. Your dreams. But if you do this, there’s no going back.”
“But Dad, that man’s a witness. I’m sure of it.”
His dad’s voice was stern. “No more going off half-cocked. Start by explaining it to me.”
Jack took a deep breath. “The light fixture. It didn’t dawn on me until just now. The light where Stacy was attacked was broken. The way the homeless guy said it—I think he meant somebody broke that light on purpose. This wasn’t a random act of vandalism. It was the murderer, Dad, planning his crime. He probably tampered with her car, too, so she’d be forced to walk home. He planned it all. And if Murray saw him break the light, he knows who the killer is—or at least what he looks like.”
“Jack, the last few days you’ve been ‘sure’ about a lot of things that turned out to be wrong.”
“Please believe me, Dad. I need someone to believe me.”
His father stopped at a red light. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I know you’re upset about today, and right now you may think that you’re right.” The words stung Jack. “But if you decide to do this, I won’t
be able to shield you from the consequences.”
“I’m not asking you to shield me. Are you saying this is my decision?”
“You’re eighteen now. You need to make your own choices, and face your own consequences. I can’t do that for you. But as your father I have to remind you: You could be giving up everything you’ve worked for. Everything.”
“I know. But I know I’m right.”
“Jack!” His father rarely raised his voice, but he did now. “There are still consequences.”
That brought Jack up short. “If I prove Jay didn’t kill Stacy, how can I get jammed up?”
“Let me put it another way. Suppose you prove that Detective Vargas is wrong in front of his boss and all his colleagues. Do you think he’ll congratulate you? Or will he pursue charges, if he thinks you still impeded his investigation?”
Jack looked out the window.
The way to Hamilton Park was to the right. The way home was to the left. Jack’s father looked both ways, and then turned to Jack. “Since you first came to us—eleven years ago today—you’ve wanted to be a policeman. Are you willing to risk losing that for Jay Martin?”
Jack paused, but he didn’t need time to think about his answer. “Wrong’s wrong. It isn’t just about Jay. Not anymore. I didn’t even know Stacy, but…the person who killed her left her in a pond like trash. Like I was.” Jack swallowed.
“Jack…”
“Yeah, I could close my eyes and go on with my life, and become a police officer, and everything I’ve ever wanted—but does that mean an innocent person rots in prison and a killer goes free? And if something happens to that homeless guy tonight, I’ll never forgive myself.”
The light turned green. Jack’s dad hesitated. He took a long time to decide, while various scenarios spun in Jack’s mind…his parents proud of him, graduating from police academy…and then, Vargas putting him in a cell…
Finally his father exhaled, straightened up in his seat, and turned toward Hamilton Park.
“Thanks for believing in me.”
His father sped up. “That’s what dads are for.”
Detective Jack Stratton Box Set Page 75