by Cheryl Wyatt
Jack sighed and tried to shift his thoughts out from underneath the melancholy cloud. “Carry on.”
After making phone calls, he checked to see if Darin needed help. “I’m guessing you’re wondering about Patrice. Did you hear any of it?” The walls were thin enough to allow for that, unfortunately.
“Some. Just that he cheated on her. If that’s what it took to get her to dump him, then maybe her walking in on that mess was a blessing in disguise.” Darin shook his head. “Although I hate that she had to endure it.”
“Maybe you can help her through. Hang out with her. Be a friend.”
“She’s above me, man.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Look at me? I’m a tatted-up ex-con from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“You did time for someone else’s crime and you were exonerated.”
“Yeah, but my incarceration still follows me like a black cloud. Plus, I did make some bad choices that got me in some bad places.”
“Your past doesn’t have the last word, Darin, God does. I challenge you to believe the best is yet to come.”
* * *
Olivia stood by the condiment cart listening in awe. When Jack stepped away, she resisted the urge to brush a hand along his broad back and tell him how proud of him she was. If she touched him, she’d cave in her resolve to let him make his own choice about leaving.
When Jack stepped into his office and closed the door, Olivia walked up to Darin. “Never thought I’d say this but Jack is right, you know.”
Darin looked at her. “You think so?”
She nodded. “I do. You’re not disqualified. I know you trust in Jesus, and I know He knows that. So there’s no way you’ll be put to shame.”
“Yeah, but she’s so classy and her ex-boyfriend is all cultured and stuff.”
Olivia snorted. “Sour milk is cultured, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for her.”
Darin nodded. “Noted.”
Just then, the door opened and Patrice’s boyfriend, Frankie, stepped through the front door of Sully’s dining room with a vengeful glint in his eyes.
Darin knocked hard on Jack’s door. Naem paused and pulled a pen out from behind his ear as Jack stepped into the hallway.
“Jack.” Olivia nodded toward the entrance. Immediately Jack transformed, marching toward the front like a man on a lethal mission.
“Oh my,” Marci said, squeezing Olivia’s arm. “The syrup’s about to hit the fan.”
Naem blinked at her oddly. “Syrup wouldn’t spray, though.”
Marci rolled her eyes and snapped her gum at him before going to refill patrons’ drinks.
“Darin.” Olivia put a calming hand on his arm. His biceps and triceps were flexing.
Naem nudged Darin aside and took over the grill so the meat wouldn’t burn. “Go make sure Jack doesn’t take the dude’s head off.”
“You mean beat him to it?”
Naem paused. “He’s not worth getting sent back down. Just remember to be diplomatic.”
“I know for a fact that no-good creep left bruises on her. And you want me to throw down diplomacy? I don’t think so.”
Patrice stood in front of Darin. “Actually Naem, why don’t you go help Jack. Darin needs to stay on the grills.”
Muscles bunching, Darin took the spatula back from Naem and muttered, “He comes in here again, and I promise you, he won’t walk out.” He rotated his neck and winked at Olivia. “At least not without crutches.”
Olivia nibbled her lip, glad to see Darin cooling and able to kid a little. She really didn’t want him violating his good standing with his parole officer. He was almost finished and didn’t need the setback.
Olivia followed Naem to where Jack stood in front of the register glaring across the tables at Frankie, who’d sat down at a table.
“Why isn’t Jack making him leave?” Marci asked.
“Probably because, legally, he can’t.” He could stare Frankie through the floor though, and that’s exactly what Jack appeared to be trying to do.
“Take a picture, Sullenberger, it’ll last longer,” Frankie finally chided. He peeled open a menu and smirked.
Jack stalked over, slammed the menu shut and leaned into Frankie’s face. “Outside. Now.”
Frankie didn’t even blink. “I’m fine right here, thanks.” His tone was as menacing as his expression.
Patrice rushed out, having witnessed the exchange from the kitchen doorway. “He’s a big chicken, Jack. He won’t go to the alley to talk to you.” She raised her voice, for other patrons to hear. “In fact, he only picks on people he knows he can beat. Like women half his size.”
Frankie narrowed his gaze and darted a look around. “Shut your mouth,” he snapped at Patrice.
She began rolling her sleeves up, bringing new bruises to light. “Shall we show everyone what you do in your spare time?”
His face reddened as he stood. “Fine.” He faced Jack. “But you lay one finger on me and I swear I’ll sue you and your dad and this diner for everything you’ve got.”
Frankie stepped out and headed for the door, and Jack followed.
Almost too calmly.
“We should call the police,” Olivia said to Marci.
“Why? If we do, they’ll take Jack to jail when he beats the crud out of Frankie. My bet’s on Jack.”
Patrice gasped. “Marci!”
Olivia shook her head and gave Marci a look.
“Oh. Right. I’ll just phone the police, then.” Marci grabbed the cordless and dialed.
Olivia grabbed pepper spray out of her purse and followed Jack to the alley.
He had stellar self-control, that’s all she knew.
Naem rushed ahead to intercept Jack. “Gonna beat her boyfriend into juice, boss?”
Olivia approached rapidly.
Jack’s jaw just clenched. “Olivia, stay inside.”
She screeched to a halt. She peered at Jack’s muscular bulk and enormous bare hands, then at her pathetic little pepper spray and realized that he could probably kill four men in the ten minutes it would take her to figure out how to get the stupid safety off the pepper spray. It was probably expired, anyway.
Five minutes later, Olivia could stand it no longer. “I’m going to check.”
“Not without a bodyguard you aren’t,” Darin said.
As they approached, Frankie was up against the wall and Jack stood an easy inch away from him.
Jack looked a deadly kind of calm.
Frankie spat on the ground near Jack’s feet. “Are you still talking?”
Jack stepped closer, his hand near Frankie’s neck on the brick wall. “Are you still breathing? Because if so, I can take care of that in about two seconds.”
A policeman pulled into the alley and exited his car. “Jack, step away. Let us handle it.”
Jack nodded to the officers and then scowled when he saw Olivia.
“You don’t listen very well,” Jack said, motioning her inside. He seemed calmer than before.
“Frankie’s in one piece. I’m surprised.”
“I took him outside to keep a ruckus from happening inside the diner. And to keep Darin off him.”
“Good thinking.”
Marci approached. “Jack, there’s a man here who says he has an appointment to look at the diner.”
Jack cast a glance at Olivia then looked away. “Direct him to my office.”
Olivia froze. “Look at the diner for what? Is something being repaired?”
The expression on Jack’s face stopped her in her tracks. “No. Nothing’s being repaired.” He turned to walk down the hall to his office.
She followed, a burning sensation dropping into her stomach. “J
ack...what’s this diner meeting about?”
“None of your business, Olivia.”
“So, I’m not a part of your decision making just because we have to postpone having a life together?”
“Tomorrow is never promised.”
Her face must’ve reflected her hurt because Jack glanced back and softened his expression. “Look, that came out wrong. We’ll talk about us later. I can’t miss this meeting.”
“Can I know what it’s about?” she asked, willing the panic away.
“Why? You’ll just try to change my mind.”
“About what?”
“Selling the diner.”
She rushed around and stood in his path, not caring that the man he was meeting with was walking toward them, escorted by Marci, since Patrice followed officers to finally press charges against Frankie. “You can’t sell the diner.”
“Why not?”
“Because that would break your dad’s heart.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“No.”
Did she just stomp? Really?
She must have because Jack’s gaze dropped to her foot and his eyebrows rose.
Mature, Olivia. Real mature!
She drew a calming breath. “It would break his spirit and make him give up.”
Jack motioned for Marci to take the man on in, while Jack mumbled an apology to him.
Olivia stood like a human blockade in front of the door. As if that would help. “What else does he have to live for, Jack, if not you and the diner? If you sell it, you’ll be gone in a flash back to your life and you’re all he has. He’s all you have. You need to keep the diner. Please. I am begging you...”
“Olivia, I don’t have a choice. The bank is foreclosing at the end of the month. We’re done here.”
We’re done here.
She gasped. It felt like he’d ripped her heart right out of her chest. “Jack.”
“I’ve done what I can. I’m sorry.”
Which meant that by the time this mystery man left today, the selling of the diner would be a done deal.
Olivia stood staring at the walls, the war memorabilia, the decades of Sullenberger history. The photos grew blurry but she blinked back tears.
She pressed hands to the walls, steadying her breaths, her thoughts and her faith.
I will not let him do this, Lord. Not to himself. Not to his dad. Not to me. I want him here. I want a life with him. Help me stop him.
Maybe all along what he’d needed was the one thing she’d not been able or fully willing to give him.
A reason to stay.
Chapter Thirteen
“Olivia, I need to talk to you.”
Patrice pulled the covers back from Olivia as she lay in her bed, then tugged on the sleeve of Olivia’s worn Scooby-Doo pajamas.
Olivia squinted at her clock. Two in the morning. “Can it wait?”
“No. Now.”
Patrice’s eyes filled with tears and she’d apparently already cried all of her mascara off.
Fully awake now, Olivia swung her feet around and stood, grabbing her robe. “Where have you been?”
“At the police station. Frankie has been arrested for the time being.” Patrice hesitated for a moment, and then continued. “I turned myself in, too, but they let me go because I cooperated.”
Turned herself in? What did that mean? “Patrice...what are you saying?”
“Jack will hate me. Sully will never forgive me. He’ll have another stroke. I’ve been so stupid.” Patrice was near hyperventilation as she paced the hallway between her bedroom and Olivia’s.
An anchor of dread dropped into Olivia’s stomach, making movement hard.
She forced herself forward, drawing Patrice into the living room with her as she went.
Patrice nodded toward their apartment door. “Get Jack.”
Olivia tied her robe belt. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. He needs to hear this.” Patrice clutched her stomach. “It’s about...the money.”
Bad feeling worsening, Olivia rushed across the hall and knocked frantically on his door.
He came out in his gym shorts and T-shirt looking as groggy, cranky and confused as Olivia had felt about a minute ago.
“Jack, Patrice needs to talk to us.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face. Olivia tried to ignore the very appealing shadow of scruff along his jaw.
He twisted his wrist to peer at his watch. “At two in the morning?”
Olivia clutched her own stomach and shifted from one foot to the other. She hated to say this. She really, really did. “Jack, I think it has to do with the missing diner money.”
Jack jerked instantly awake.
He spun, grabbed a sweatshirt and motioned Olivia back across the hall. They entered the girls’ apartment one after the other. Jack helped Olivia drag chairs over.
She’d never forget the deeply disturbed look on his face. Truthfully, she felt just as troubled.
“What’s going on?” he asked Patrice while turning a chair around across from her and straddling it.
He was surprisingly calm in this crisis. Maybe it was a God thing. Reading his Bible had really helped him. It gave Olivia hope he’d stay safe overseas, in whatever situation he was stepping into in Syria.
Olivia sat in the chair Jack had situated for her between his and Patrice’s, forming an intimate circle. She began silently praying as Patrice rocked back and forth, seemingly terrified to speak. Jack waited.
After a long tense moment, Patrice moved her gaze up to his and Olivia’s briefly before settling it back on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time.”
“Just start from the beginning.”
Patrice finally took a brave breath and started.
“A few months after I started dating Frankie, I discovered he had a cocaine habit. I threatened to leave him and he told me he’d kick it. I stupidly believed him. He either quit for a while or, more likely, he just hid the habit well.”
Jack scrubbed a hand over his face but appeared to reinforce his will to listen patiently.
“A few months later he had me borrow money from Sully’s safe, to pay some people off. I thought it was for some personal loans because that’s what he told me. But then I heard him bragging recently that he’d snowed me and Sully out of sniff money...and I knew that he’d never quit the cocaine.”
Olivia took a look at Jack, who stared unbelievingly toward the wall.
Patrice twisted in her seat and choked back a sob. “Every dime of Sully’s safe money went right up Frankie’s nose. It was a lot of money.”
Jack’s jaw was clenching, but he still sounded remarkably calm. “Would you be willing to testify?”
“Yes. I’ve already gone to the police. They took a statement and since one of them knows me and is your good friend, Jack, he told me to come straight to you and to tell you everything. He said you can come back to the station anytime today to give a formal statement to attest to the missing funds.”
“How much money are we talking about here?” Jack looked from Olivia to Patrice.
“Forty-five thousand dollars.”
* * *
Jack felt like hitting something.
“Wait, Jack. That may be enough to get the diner out of the red.”
“No. It’s not. We’d still be thirty thousand dollars short, and we can’t make that in six days.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack. He promised to pay it back. But he never did. He kept making some excuse. I didn’t realize the diner was in danger of shutting down. I didn’t know what to do. I deserve to go to jail. I know I do.”
“I’m not going to press charges against you, Patrice. Just Frankie. But please show me
that you have learned from this.”
“I have. I promise. I’ve been putting every dime of my tips in to try to make up for it.”
“That makes two of you,” Jack said, looking at Olivia.
“You know about that?”
“It wasn’t too hard to figure out once I started counting the register before and after you came on shift.”
Olivia dipped her head.
“His law firm is doing well financially. Could you be compensated that way?” Patrice asked.
Jack’s jaw clenched. “Doubtful.”
“What are you going to do, Jack?” Olivia asked.
“I’m going to let the police do their job investigating to prove his guilt.”
That didn’t mean he’d ever recover Dad’s money.
Jack felt literally sick to his stomach, a rarity. His head ached to a point where his brain felt squeezed.
Jack made the phone call, despite that it was closing in on three in the morning. As Jack explained the situation to a detective named Ashleigh Petrowski, he realized he still hadn’t gotten over the great shock of Patrice’s actions.
He knew she was remorseful, but he never dreamed she’d be capable of something like this. He shook it off, choosing to forgive and move ahead instead of spin his wheels and dwell.
Ashleigh told him she needed to consult with Stone, whoever that was, and she’d get back to him within the hour. While they waited, Jack, Olivia and Patrice went through two pots of coffee.
It was going to be a long, hard day.
Jack’s phone rang somewhere around four in the morning. He spoke on conference call with Ashleigh, Stone and a federal agent who informed Jack that Frankie was already under investigation for another matter and that he was recording the call. Jack put Patrice on the phone next, to corroborate his story and give any details Jack didn’t know or had inadvertently left out.
Afterward, Ashleigh brought Jack up to speed on what the plan would be from here. He rejoined Patrice and Olivia in the living room. Olivia had showered and dressed. Patrice still looked like she’d been on a three-day bender, only he knew she didn’t indulge.
He explained to them, “Ash can get FBI wired and meet up with Frankie in a club, setting him up to brag about taking the money. Normally the FBI doesn’t get involved in local police matters, but in this case, they were already investigating Frankie, with local law enforcement’s assistance and knowledge. Looks like Frankie will be put away for at least a couple decades.”