Jack Ryder Mystery Series: Vol 4-6

by Willow Rose

  "Yes, it was," Abigail said. I was getting tired of this conversation. Abigail always wanted to argue everything, and it was tiring.

  I put on a Band-Aid and then looked at Angela. "There. Almost as good as new. Now, no more skateboarding, all right? Why don't you go down to the beach and play some ball or maybe go swimming, huh?"

  "I wanna go surfing," Abigail said.

  "That's a great idea," I said.

  Abigail looked disappointed. "But no one wants to go with me." Her eyes lit up as she looked at me.

  "Could you come with me; could you, Daddy, please?"

  I sighed and helped Angela down from the counter. She walked back outside to be with Austin, whom she'd had a crush on since I met Shannon and she brought the girl into our lives. I didn't really know the rules for stepsiblings falling in love, but since they were only nine, I guessed we could let it go for a little while. If it still persisted when they were teenagers, then maybe we'd have to deal with it differently.

  "I can't, honey. Tyler is sick, and I have to keep an eye on him. His fever is higher today than yesterday, and I need to take him to the doctor if it doesn't go down soon."

  Abigail sighed. "Stupid Tyler. It's always about him. Why don't you ever spend any time with me anymore, huh? Me and Austin, we need you too!"

  And with those words, she rushed out of the house and slammed the door behind her. I looked after her, shaking my head, thinking it didn't really matter how hard I tried. It was never going to be good enough, was it? Everyone wanted me to do better.

  As I finished the thought, I heard Tyler cry from his room upstairs and rushed up there to grab him, once again forgetting all about calling Shannon.

  Chapter 24

  August 2018

  Diane had looked forward to the block party. She had never lived in a neighborhood where they had block parties before, so she was so excited to see what it was all about. Ever since she had discovered the blood on the floor in her house, she hadn't really been able to feel comfortable in her own home, and she had slept outside on the porch, even though it meant she was sweating all through the night. She just didn't like being inside.

  She had started to break up the planks and remove them and hoped she could be done this weekend since she had to work all of next week at the motel. The first couple of days working for Jack's parents had been fun and, as usual, Sherri and Albert did their best for her to feel welcome. But she couldn't help feeling like they were doing her a favor. She had kind of known it would end up like that when asking for a job at their place, and to be honest, maybe that was why she had gone to them in the first place. But now that she felt that it was like charity and that maybe Sherri didn't really need her help at all, that she could easily do all that sweeping and cooking on her own, Diane had promised herself to begin looking for another job as soon as she could. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden to Jack's parents. They had always treated her so nicely and, even though Sherri didn't say it out loud, Diane sensed that she had always somehow wished that she and Jack would end up together. Diane got the impression that Sherri wasn't too fond of Jack's new wife, the famous country singer, Shannon King. Not that she didn't like her, but it was the fact that she was away so much and left Jack to deal with everything—and like a million kids—on his own. It bothered Sherri that Shannon wouldn't choose to take care of her family over her career. It wasn't said with those words, but Sherri wasn't very subtle either when speaking about it. Diane feared that Sherri had begun wishing that Diane and Jack would get back together now that she had moved there, but that wasn't why Diane had come to Cocoa Beach. She was in a completely different place emotionally. Diane really didn't want to get in the middle of anything. She just wanted to be left alone and to get on with her life, alone.

  "What do you say, Misty?" she said to the cat and picked it up. She was standing on the porch, looking at the decorations she had just put up. Jean had told her it was tradition that everyone decorated their house in whatever manner they liked, so Diane had gone to the beach and picked up tons of shells that she had put on strings and let hang down. She couldn't really afford to go all out in decorations, so she had decided to keep it simple. Her house was a beach house, and now it was visible to everyone. It was also the smallest house on the street and the one that needed the most work. She knew that the neighbors looked at it as an eyesore in their nice neighborhood and wished she had enough money to fix it up properly. But that wasn't now.

  "You like it? Looks great, right?"

  The cat meowed, then writhed itself out of her hands, jumped down, and ran inside.

  "You're right," Diane said with a disappointed sigh. "It looks terrible. But it's the best I could do. It'll have to be enough. Maybe next year I can do more. Next year, everything will be a lot better."

  Chapter 25

  August 2018

  No one came to her house. There were enough of them; especially the neighborhood kids were swarming the streets, walking from house to house, escorted by their parents, asking for treats or drinks, asking to see people's houses. It was like Halloween, but with tours of people's houses, Jean had explained. Diane had thought it was a great idea and an amazing way to get to know your neighbors and see how they lived, even though she knew they would be quite disappointed when entering her house. She had cleaned it up as nicely as she could and had prepared a ton of excuses for why half of the floors were ripped up in the kitchen and why everything looked the way it did, but she also believed she had made it look as nice as possible for the occasion. It wasn't half bad if you asked her. She really wanted to make friends in this neighborhood, to make her feel more at home, more settled.

  Yet, none of them came to Diane's house.

  They would politely wave as they walked past, some would even say hello or hi, then rush past Diane who was standing on the porch with homemade lemonade for the kids and beers for the adults. She even had a bowl of candy to lure them in. Diane knew the way to people's hearts went through their kids.

  They just didn't come.

  She watched them as they went next door, to the fighting couple, Tim and Tiffany, and Diane could hear them chatting and laughing and making ooh and ah noises as they were escorted through the house. She saw them walk in and ten minutes later walk back out again, laughing and talking. She saw them come in and out of Dennis and Camille's house across the street and noticed that they usually hung out a little longer at their place than at the others, chatting on the front—newly mowed—lawn, while their kids played in their tree house and on their swing set.

  They even went up to Mr. Fogerty's house, and he hadn't even decorated it at all. He hadn't even put out any refreshments, and when they asked to see his house, he told them it hadn't changed a bit since last year, so there was no need. And then they left, shivering slightly because of the creepy old man, but at least they had approached him. They didn't even come up to Diane. Not even when she walked into the street and greeted the parents and presented herself. At first, they were all very nice and shook her hand, but as soon as she told them she had moved into the old house, they all seemed to be in a hurry to get out of there, making up some excuse that they were running out of time or something like that.

  Diane watched, puzzled, as they went to Mr. Fogerty's house and not hers. All he did was sit there on his porch in that old rocking chair with his dog. He didn't even want to participate, yet they went to him?

  What am I doing wrong?

  "Is it the decorations?" she asked herself. "Do they frighten people somehow? They're nothing but shells and rocks?"

  Just as she had asked herself that very question, she spotted Jean approaching in the next crowd coming along. As usual, she was holding that Yeti cup in her hand, which Diane assumed contained something a lot stronger than coffee.

  Diane waved at her and yelled her name.

  "Hi, Jean."

  As she saw that the group she was with kept walking and continued past her house without even looking her way,
Diane rushed up to Jean and stopped her.

  "Hi. What's up?" Jean asked, taking a sip from her cup.

  The crowd continued without her.

  "Why isn't anyone stopping at my house?" Diane asked. "Is it something I have said or done?"

  Jean took another sip, then looked at her pensively. "You really don't know, do ya'?"

  "I really, really don't," Diane said.

  Jean pulled Diane aside, then exhaled. "I am afraid that they don't dare to go into your house."

  Diane wrinkled her forehead. "That's just silly. Why?"

  "Well…" she sighed. "I hate to have to be the one to tell ya' this, but an entire family was murdered in your house once. Slaughtered. Most of the folks that live here now weren't even here back then, but they’ve heard the story. They're scared, Diane."

  Diane stared at Jean. "Then how come I haven't?"

  "Well, you're from outta town. They're not really obligated to tell ya' when they sell you the house. No one's gonna tell ya' you're about to buy a murder house. At least not till you've signed on the dotted line. But it's your house now, Diane. It's all yours."

  Part II

  Chapter 26

  August 2018

  Jenna had always known she wanted to be a nurse. She wanted to take care of people and had been doing it ever since she was a child and her mother was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Jenna had been fifteen years old, and since her mother was all she had, she had nursed her for all of the six months she had been bedridden, while the cancer slowly ate her up.

  It was a dark period in Jenna's life, one she didn't enjoy looking back on, but it had also been the time when she had realized her true calling in life. Bringing comfort to her mother made sense to her; it gave her a purpose in all the darkness. In that way, she felt like she had done everything she could and been there for her mother as much as she could before she left.

  Today, when she took care of her patients at Cape Canaveral Hospital, she felt the same way. She was no doctor and couldn't cure them or perform surgery, but she could bring comfort. She could make their time here at the hospital as comfortable as possible and taking care of them put a smile on her face.

  Today, as she went to change the fluids on the young coma patient in room 237, she didn't feel her usual happy self, though. Her mind was circling around her daughter and the fact that she had been held back and had to retake fourth grade this school year. It was such a huge disappointment for her, and a blow for her daughter's self-confidence. It was just plain cruel, Jenna thought. Now all her daughter's friends were in fifth grade. They were moving on while her daughter had to repeat everything she learned last year among kids that were much younger and less mature than her. It just wasn't fair, and Jenna didn't feel like the school had been very cooperative.

  Jenna had tried to fight the school as soon as they told her in the spring that they were considering holding her daughter back. Jenna's daughter had terrible self-esteem as it was and often doubted herself so much she didn't even want to go to school. It was a fight every morning to get her even to go since she believed she was too dumb to learn, so naturally, Jenna argued that this would make things worse. Her daughter was an introvert and had trouble making new friends. Didn't they understand that? Wasn't there another way they could help her?

  But she had failed her FSA test, and since her grades from the rest of the year weren't that great, they had no choice, the principal had told her. She gave her one more chance to improve during summer school, but unfortunately, that wasn't enough. It had been so close, the teacher said, but not enough. She had to retake fourth grade. There was nothing more they could do to help her.

  "You just don't want to," Jenna had said, then walked out of the teacher's classroom.

  Now she wondered how her daughter would cope with this new reality. Would the other kids mock her for it? Call her slow or even stupid? Kids could be so cruel.

  "Poor baby," Jenna mumbled to herself as she smiled at the handsome officer guarding the coma patient's door, then pushed it open.

  The sight that met her on the other side almost caused her to drop the bag of fluids and, for just a few seconds, she forgot all about her daughter as she rushed down the hallway yelling for the doctor.

  Chapter 27

  August 2018

  Shannon was sitting in her dressing room, looking at the flowers in front of her. They looked like they were exactly the same as the last city they had been in, she thought to herself.

  Her hand was hurting even worse than ever, and tears were running down her cheeks as she held it in pain. Between sobs, she glanced at the guitar in the corner, knowing that in a few hours she was supposed to hold it again, on stage, while thousands of fans expected her to give them her all.

  It made her feel like screaming.

  Shannon had never felt lonelier than she did at this moment. Jack hadn't called her back, and she was tired of calling him and getting his voicemail. Didn't they miss her at all? Was she that easy to forget?

  He's just busy. With the kids and his case. You know that, silly.

  She did. But still, she couldn't help wondering if he was with her, that Diane woman who had somehow taken over her life back home.

  Shannon leaned back in the couch and cursed the flowers. Whose idea was it anyway to send her all of those? Did they assume she liked them? Shannon did like flowers, she loved flowers, and she might have mentioned that in some interview once, but not when she had to look at them every day. Not when every bloody city, every stadium, and every dressing room had them. Now they just reminded her of her loneliness.

  There was a discreet tap on the door and Shannon's manager, Bruce, poked his head in.

  "Hey there. How's my star? I have someone here to see you."

  Behind him, a face appeared, and the person walked in. Shannon looked at him, surprised.

  "Dr. Stanton? What are you doing here? On a Sunday?"

  Dr. Stanton had been her physician when she lived in Nashville, but she hadn't seen him in years. He was one that many celebrities, especially singers, used and she had been very fond of him back then.

  He glanced at her hand that she was holding in a strange position.

  "I came to look at that."

  Shannon looked down at her hand, then wiped away tears. "How did you…?"

  She spotted Sarah behind the doctor and didn't need to finish her question. "Ah…I see."

  "I’m sorry," Shannon, she said. "I just…I can't keep watching you in pain like that. I know you've been trying to hide it, but I am a mama, and I can see when someone isn't right. And you ain't right, girl. You're in pain. And every time I mention seeing someone about it, you won't hear of it. I feel bad for ambushing you like this, but something has to happen. I can't stand watching you trying to pretend like you're not hurting."

  "Can I at least have a look at it?" Doctor Stanton said and put his bag on the table next to the flowers. Just the smell from them made Shannon want to gag.

  She nodded. "Sure."

  Sarah let out a sigh of relief behind him, and Shannon gave her a look. She was annoyed with her for interfering, but deep down she felt great relief.

  Dr. Stanton touched her hand, and she winced in pain.

  "That bad, huh?" he asked, concerned.

  "It's worse," she said. "And I have to play in just a few hours."

  The doctor studied her hand some more, then looked at her. "I’m glad I was called. There’s no way you can play when you're in that much pain."

  "Can you make her ready for the stage in just two hours?" Bruce asked nervously.

  Dr. Stanton gave Shannon a reassuring look. "Without a doubt. I'll get you through tonight and the rest of this tour; don't you worry."

  Chapter 28

  August 2018

  I drove the truck up in front of her house, dragging the trailer behind it, and parked. Then I sounded the horn till Diane came out, a surprised look on her face. I got out and greeted her. Mike Wagner was with me and got out on
the other side. He nodded at the neighbor across the street who was mowing his lawn and staring at us.

  "Jack? What are you doing?" Diane asked, puzzled.

  "Bringing you furniture."

  "What? Where…What do you mean furniture?"

  "I mean just that," I said and walked to the back of the U-HAUL trailer. I opened the hatch and walked up. "There are two couches, an old dining room table and four chairs, and most importantly…a bed."

  "I…I…what…?"

  "Now, most of it is old stuff that my parents had at the motel and weren't using anymore, like the dining table and the dresser, but they still work. The couches are some we had in the garage. They're actually my old couches from my apartment. Shannon didn't care for them, so they ended up in our garage. We don't need them. Now, about the bed. The frame is old, but I bought you a brand-new mattress. I hope you don't mind."

  Diane stared at me, then at the contents of the trailer, then back at me again. "Oh, I also threw in a couple of old lamps that we don't use anymore."

  "This…oh, Jack…this is awfully nice, but you really…shouldn't…" she said.

  "Ah, it's nothing. Really. It isn't. I went around the house yesterday and realized we had so much stuff we never use. I thought, why not share some of it with someone who needs it. You can't keep sleeping on the porch on that old mattress there."

  "But…well…how can I…"

  "…say no? You can't."

  I smiled from ear to ear. It brought me tremendous joy to help her out, and I wasn't kidding or being modest. It really wasn't much.

  Diane smiled now too as she took it all in.

  "Then, thank you, Jack."

  "Ah, thank me later. Now, let's get all this stuff inside before the thunderstorms get here. Now, I brought my colleague, Mike. He's happy to help, aren't you, Mike?"