JACKS ARE WILD

by Christopher Greyson

  Silence and blank faces were their response. Jack took four steps forward before he stopped at a table with three guys in their early twenties.

  “I asked a question. Have any of you—”

  A guy with wide set eyes and an angular nose scoffed, “Like we’d tell you if we did.”

  Jack grabbed him by the hoop in his ear. The man shrieked.

  “Sorry, but my hand accidentally caught your earring. What did you say?” Jack growled.

  “I haven’t seen her. I haven’t.” The man’s voice was now two octaves higher.

  “What about the rest of you?”

  More silence.

  Jack flexed his finger, and the man whined, “Answer him, answer him.”

  They all shook their heads, accompanied by a mumbled, “no.”

  Jack let go of the earring as he turned to the guy behind the counter. “What’s your name?”

  “Shawn, Shawn Miller. I’m the assistant manager.”

  “Are you sure she hasn’t been here? Maybe she came in and went right to her office?”

  He shrugged. “Only she’s allowed in there. If she did, I wouldn’t know.”

  “I need to get in there.” Jack walked over to the opening to the back rooms.

  A short girl with black eye shadow who had been there earlier scurried over to Shawn. She scrunched her face and then whispered bitterly to Shawn, “Don’t be spineless.”

  As Jack walked past the statues, he pulled the curtain aside. “Come on,” he growled, and then stormed down the hallway with Shawn nervously following. He tried the door, and it wasn’t locked. He looked at Shawn, who shrugged.

  “I don’t know if she keeps it locked. No one would go in there.”

  Jack walked in and scanned the room. It looked just how he remembered it. Her computer was in the corner, and there was a separate desk covered in papers.

  Jack walked over to the computer and moved the mouse.

  I need to get Replacement to come and take a look at it.

  “Does she use this for work?”

  Shawn shrugged. “The building doesn’t have Internet access.”

  Jack looked at the back of the computer where only a power cord went to the wall. He walked over to her desk and started going through some of the papers.

  “You can’t—”

  When Jack looked up, Shawn shut up.

  “I’m going to need a couple of minutes.” Jack nodded toward the door, which made Shawn’s shoulders slump a little.

  “Listen. I know you can kick my ass, but Marisa wouldn’t want anyone going through her stuff.”

  Jack crossed his arms. “Shawn. Has Marisa ever said anything about me?”

  Shawn nodded. “Once she offered any takers a million dollars to put a bullet in your head, but I think she was just mad.”

  Wow. I know I got her upset but…

  “Women get like that. Marisa and I are more than friends, and right now I’m worried about her. That’s all I’m going to say. So ask yourself this: when Marisa comes back, would she be more bent out of shape if you let me look in here or for the mess that happened because you tried to stop me?”

  Shawn swallowed, looked nervously around, and then walked back down the hallway. Jack turned back to the papers on the desk.

  After half an hour, he got up from the chair and rubbed the back of his head.

  Bills. Receipts. Payroll. Nothing.

  He headed back down the hallway and tossed the curtain back as he walked out. Everyone looked up.

  “If she calls, or you see her, tell her I have to talk to her. It’s an emergency. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded. Jack stormed back out to his car. He saw the guys in the tattoo parlor talking animatedly to one another, and he could only imagine what they were saying about him yanking the guy’s earring earlier.

  Jerk should have just answered the question when I asked nicely. If he has an earache, it’s his own fault.

  He pulled out onto the street and headed for Marisa’s apartment.

  **********

  Jack walked up to Marisa’s apartment building, opened the door, and headed to the third floor. The old wood stairs creaked, and the higher he went, the lower his spirits sank.

  No word. She could be anywhere. She could be safe or…

  Jack grabbed the railing as he hurried up. He unlocked the door, knocked, and then walked in.

  “Marisa?” he called out as he headed for the bedroom. “Marisa?” He scanned the rooms but everything looked the same as when he was there last. “Marisa?”

  Empty.

  He grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen.

  MARISA, PLEASE CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS. IF YOU DON’T REACH ME, COME TO MY APARTMENT. JACK

  Is there anyone she talks to? The people at her store? Artists? That festival…

  Jack hurried into her studio. He grabbed the flyer for the art festival that was taped to the easel. He dialed the number. An answering machine picked up. “Thank you for calling the de Lorme Fine Art Galleria —” Jack hung up and then put the flyer down on the table.

  Picking up an empty easel, he taped the note to it. He placed the easel in front of the door so she’d see it when she walked into the apartment. He turned the light off as he walked out. The click of the lock echoed, and he hesitated to pull the key out.

  Her apartment is the only one on the third floor. No neighbors.

  He walked down to the second floor, where he knocked on both of the doors. No one was home in either unit. Jack debated about going back up for paper and leaving a note, but decided against it.

  She doesn’t like the downstairs neighbors. She wouldn’t tell them anything.

  As he walked back to the car, he checked both his phones.

  Nothing.

  Jack gripped the steering wheel harder as he tried to force down the panic that rose in his chest. He pulled out to head back home, but he only made it two blocks.

  I should leave a damn note for the neighbors. They could know something.

  He spun the car around.

  I’ll just tell them I’m trying to get in touch with her and see if she said anything about going out of town. I could find out if she’s seeing someone or…and I could sound like a crazy old boyfriend who—

  As the Impala rounded the block, Jack looked up at Marisa’s apartment and saw a sliver of light illuminate the window and vanish. Jack yanked the wheel over and parked.

  Light? That wasn’t the light in the apartment, but there was something.

  Jack jumped out of the car and ran for the entrance.

  It must have been the light from the hallway. Someone came into the apartment.

  Relief washed over him and he stumbled.

  Maybe she did just go away?

  He took the stairs two at a time as he raced up to the third floor. When he hit the landing, he froze.

  Marisa would turn on a light if she walked into her apartment. It’s not her.

  Jack drew his gun. He flattened himself against the wall and, with his left hand, reached for the doorknob. The slightest bit of pressure moved the door. The hinges made a small sound.

  I locked it.

  His hand started to move instinctively for his radio. He frowned.

  On your own.

  His breathing slowed as he waited and listened.

  Nothing. Wait or let them come to me? No one’s in danger and there’s no other way out. Wait. Let the snake come out of the hole.

  Jack shifted his weight as he prepared to move back when he heard a window in the apartment being flung open.

  Fire escape.

  He sidestepped quickly. His foot hit the door and then he went in.

  Jack was too slow. He was fast enough to get his head out of the way, but something long, fast, and hard slammed into his arm just above the elbow. Even with a double-handed grip, he felt the gun fall from his hands as his arms were smashed downward from the blow. Before he could recover, a thick broomstick came up to thump into his face.r />
  He staggered backward and fell into the hallway. His assailant leaped out of the shadows, dashed past him, and quickly ran down the stairs. Jack’s hands slammed against the ground as he screamed in rage and pushed himself to his feet. He shook his head to clear his vision but could feel the blood splatter from his cut lip. He took two steps into the apartment and then looked for his gun that was now nowhere in sight.

  Damn. Forget it. Move.

  He turned to race down the stairway. He could hear the guy already reaching the first floor. Jack flew down each flight of stairs until he caught the door before it closed. The guy who hit him was small, about five six, dressed in black pants and a sweatshirt with the hood up. He was sprinting across the road, heading for downtown.

  Jack’s muscles exploded. His long legs stretched out, and his feet tore into the pavement. His arms pushed him forward as he focused his breathing.

  You can’t lose him. He knows where she is.

  As he thought of Marisa, his speed increased. The figure darted between two buildings as Jack gained on him. As they raced forward, Jack saw the path they were on would lead them behind the supermarket. He grinned; he’d walked this route a hundred times now.

  Everything’s locked down. I can go to the right and cut him off.

  Jack broke right, and pushed even harder. At the corner, he tapped into the furnace of rage that burned inside him, and his legs became a blur. He ran at top speed when the guy appeared. Jack could tell the man had seen him, but he knew it was too late for him to do anything about it. He lunged.

  If there could be replay reels in life for hits, this would easily land on his top ten. Jack’s shoulder slammed into the guy, but the guy spun around and caught the blow in his mid-section and not his side. Jack’s arms wrapped around his waist, but the guy twisted as they traveled sideways. The motion caused Jack’s shoulder to drop, taking a good amount of the impact with the pavement.

  They both slammed into the ground and tumbled along the tar. Jack yanked himself up and ended up on top. His left hand slammed into the guy’s chest, and he pinned him to the ground. Jack let out a loud growl as he reared back his right hand, ready to slam it into the man’s face. The problem was, his left hand that held the man down didn’t rest on a man’s chest. What was obviously a woman’s breast pressed back against his hand.

  The person on the ground turned her head, and Jack could clearly see a beautiful Japanese woman glare at him with a mixture of pain and rage. Like a cat, she managed to pull her legs almost up to her face, and then they shot up toward his head. Her calves scissored around his neck; her strong thigh muscles yanked him forward and sideways, and drove his head into the pavement.

  His vision blurred, but he tried to raise his hands to protect his head. She scrambled to her feet and delivered a heel kick straight to his solar plexus. Jack doubled up. The woman reeled back and grabbed the wall. She turned away from him and walked down the alley.

  Jack reached for a half-full glass bottle lying against the wall. He pulled himself up to his knees and threw it as hard as he could. He aimed for her head, and it hit her in the lower back. She cried out in pain as she fell forward to her knees.

  The bottle didn’t break when it struck her, but it did shatter when it hit the ground. Growling, he forced himself to his feet and staggered forward. He took two labored steps and then kicked at her head. She leaned and blocked it. The block to his leg made him land off balance, which opened up his back. That’s where she hit next; pain blasted through his exposed kidney. He dropped to his left knee. Her right hand slammed into Jack’s cheek, and his whole upper body twisted around with the impact.

  Brass knuckles…

  Everything went black.

  Do I have to cuff him?

  Jack’s eyes flipped open, but he immediately closed them again as pain raced through his head. He rolled up to his knees and willed his eyes to open again. The alley was deserted. He looked at his watch: 7:22 p.m.

  I must have been out for only a couple of minutes.

  He ran his tongue along his teeth.

  All there.

  He staggered to his feet and felt for his gun.

  Damn.

  Jack started back down the alley to head for Marisa’s apartment. As he went, he felt along his body and flexed his muscles for injuries.

  Nothing feels broken. My lip must look like hell.

  He could still taste the blood in his mouth.

  A woman. What was she doing in Marisa’s apartment? Seeing how she kicked my ass, she definitely knows how to fight. She did leave me alive.

  Jack’s neck hurt as he scanned the area while he tried to hurry along. His ears rung and his right cheek had started to swell. The Impala was still parked along the curb, and he quickly patted down his jacket as he did a quick inventory.

  Two phones. Keys. Wallet.

  He hurried up the stairs to Marisa’s, but, on the second floor, a young couple carrying groceries was unlocking their apartment. They took one look at Jack and hurried inside.

  “Wait,” he called after them, but the door had already slammed shut with a loud thud. He heard the tumble as the door was locked and bolted.

  Great. Get your gun back first, and then try to talk to them.

  On the third floor, the door was still open but his gun was nowhere in sight. He lay on the floor, looking under the kitchen island, when he saw it. He tried to reach under the cabinet but his forearm was too thick. His fingers stopped only inches away. Snagging a spatula off the counter, he managed to pull the gun back so he could grab it. He picked it up and quickly scanned the room. The far window was open.

  Girl was smart. She knew I was outside and threw open the window to draw me in. I fell for it.

  Jack walked over to the refrigerator and opened the little cabinet next to it. He grabbed the aspirin bottle and took four. He opened the freezer and dumped two handfuls of ice cubes into a plastic bag. He didn’t know which hurt worse, his lip or his eye, so he held it midway between them. He leaned against the counter and put his head in his hands.

  She couldn’t have been in here long. I only drove two blocks.

  He pushed the coins on the counter against the receipt for the coffee.

  Coffee.

  He grabbed the receipt as he fought back a wave of emotions. What he wouldn’t do to have her back—to know she was safe—to do something simple like sit and have a cup of coffee with her. He let the paper fall out of his hands and watched it land on the pile of coins. As he stared at the pile, his head throbbed. The hairs on the back of his neck went up.

  Something’s missing…the business card?

  He looked all around the counter but it wasn’t there. The business card from the art gallery was gone.

  “FREEZE,” someone screamed in the hallway. Jack drew his gun and ducked down.

  “Police officer,” Jack bellowed back. “Officer Jack Stratton. Police.”

  “Jack? Is that you?”

  Jack rolled his eyes. Donald Pugh wasn’t the brightest bulb on the force, but he was a good guy.

  “Donald, it’s me. I’m alone, and I’m going to walk out of the room directly in front of the main door. DON’T SHOOT ME.”

  Jack holstered his gun and then stood up. He took a deep breath and held his hands up before he approached the doorway. “I’m walking out.”

  Donald strolled around the corner with a big smile on his broad face but pulled up short when he saw Jack. “What the hell? Who beat the crap out of you?”

  “Donald, for future reference,” Jack growled, “make sure it’s safe before you just walk in.”

  “But you said it was you.” Donald shrugged. He was Jack’s age and height but Jack had twenty pounds of muscle on him. Donald was the type who never could seem to gain weight even if he wanted to. He pushed his hat farther up his sandy brown hair and then put his hands on his hips. “Are you okay? The neighbors called in a psycho break-in.”

  “What? I went to ask them about—” Jack sud
denly stood with his feet shoulder width apart, ready to run. “Did they call the station with this address?”

  “Yeah. We got another call about a guy chasing a girl—” Before Donald finished, Jack was headed for the door.

  “Donald. I have to go. Why don’t you run downstairs and explain this to the neighbors.”

  “Explain it? I don’t understand it. What’s going on? You look like someone rolled you for your wallet. Is this your apartment?”

  “No. It belongs to a friend of mine. See?” Jack held up the key as he walked over to the door. “She gave me a key and permission to come and go.”

  As Donald looked at him, his eyebrow continued to rise. “What happened to your face?”

  “That’s a little more complicated. Someone did break into the apartment, but before Collins gets here, I need to think—”

  “Too late for that, Jack.” Sheriff Collins’s twang shook the walls as he strode through the door.

  Collins stopped while he stared at Jack. His mouth opened and closed twice before words actually came out. “Do you need medical attention?”

  Jack shook his head. His eyes throbbed from the movement. “Sir—”

  “Don’t.” Collins shook his head. “Is this her apartment?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Did you break in?”

  “No.” Jack held up the key. “I have permission to come and—”

  “No, you don’t. Not from me,” Collins growled.

  “With all due respect, I don’t need your permission to go to my friend’s apartment, sir.”

  “Actually, you do.” Collins stomped forward. “You work for me, so you do need my permission. I made it clear. Stay away. There was no wiggle room in what I instructed.”

  “Actually—”

  “Save it. You think something happened to this girl. If that’s so, you have now contaminated a crime scene.”

  “What?” Jack’s hands shot out. “Are you kidding me? You tell me nothing happened, and now you want to jam me up for—”

  “I’m not doing the jamming, Stratton. You are.” Collins turned purple. “Take him in,” he snarled to Donald.

  “What?” Donald and Jack exchanged an incredulous look.

  “I’m not going to go through this now. You’re not on duty and have been found in the apartment of a girl who was reported missing.”