The front door whipped open. Jack jumped, half-expecting it to be Vargas, but it was just another stranger in a suit.
“Did you see her talk to anyone?” Jack asked. “Was there anyone else around?”
“Nope. Some foot traffic, but no one stood out.” She took another long inhale of her cigarette and stubbed it out. “I am sorry, but I’ve got a one o’clock meeting.” She took a card out of her pocket. “But if you have any other questions, you can give me a call.”
“Thanks.” Jack stuck the card behind his notebook. “I really appreciate—”
“Speak of the devil,” Betty said, pointing across the street. “You asked about Stacy’s boss—that’s him right there. The sweaty man in the Day-Glo green sneakers.”
Jack looked where she was pointing. Waiting among the crowd for the crosswalk light was a tall man wearing a yellow and blue running shirt, black shorts, and green sneakers that really did almost glow, they were such bright neon. From his wide shoulders and thick chest, it was obvious he not only ran but lifted weights as well. He looked to be a few years north of thirty.
The crosswalk light changed, and Leland jogged forward.
Betty waved him over. “Leland, do you have a minute? This is Jack Stratton. He found Stacy’s body and he has a couple of follow-up questions for us.”
Leland glanced down at Jack’s police academy shirt and nodded. “What do you need?”
Jack looked down at the logo on his shirt and realized that Leland thought he was a cop. He’d just been presented with an opening. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“I hope so. I’m on a one o’clock call. Betty is too.”
“You have time,” Betty said. “The Right-A-Way Shipping guys are always a few minutes late. And I’ll stall for you.” She gave a wink. “Like I always do,” she added before walking away.
Leland put his large hands on his hips and faced Jack. His annoyance was hardly masked. “Well?”
Jack flipped to a new page of his notebook. “Mr. Chambers, Stacy was working late the night she disappeared. Was that her regular schedule?”
“Yes. Thursday night was her late night. I was giving her some overtime.”
“Stacy left work while you were out for your run?”
“Yes. I got ready for my run around seven. She was finishing up on some work. We chatted and I left. That was the last time I saw her.”
“Do you remember what you talked about? Did she mention if she was going out after work?”
“No. I try not to be too chummy with people under me, but you have to be personable. It was more of a how’s-the-weather type of conversation. Then I left.”
“Did you see her in the park during your run?”
Leland looked Jack up and down. “No. The last time I saw her was before I went out jogging. You’re awfully young.”
Jack ignored the observation and kept going. “What route did you run in the park?”
“The outside loop. It was just a quick run to blow off steam.”
“And when you came back, was there anyone here?”
“No. The place was deserted.” Leland smiled smugly. “First to arrive, last to leave. But I make the sacrifice.”
Jack tapped his notebook. “There was no one else in the building? What about cleaning staff?”
“There could have been a janitor or two. I thought you meant real employees.” Leland looked down at his watch. “Look, I’m sorry, but I need to be at that meeting.”
“Certainly.” Jack saw his window of opportunity closing fast, so he went for it. “You said you went for a run to…” Jack scanned his notes. “Blow off steam. Why did you need to blow off steam? Was that because of the argument you and Stacy had?”
Leland’s expression didn’t change. “Not at all. Stacy and I didn’t argue.”
Jack glanced down at his notes. Jeremy had said that Leland and Stacy argued, and Stacy had hinted about it to Betty. But Jack had no idea what the argument was over. Just that Leland wanted something right away.
Leland tapped his watch with a long finger. “Time’s up. I’ve got a meeting to catch.”
The Right-A-Way Shipping meeting, Jack thought. And then it hit him: right away. Jeremy had heard them wrong. Leland didn’t need something right away; they had argued about Right-A-Way Shipping.
“Mr. Chambers.” Jack followed him to the door. “The night Stacy went missing, you two did have a disagreement. It was over Right-A-Way Shipping. What was that about?”
Leland’s mask cracked, and his upper lip twitched. “Oh, that. It was nothing. Stacy was working on the Right-A-Way Shipping report. It’s part of her job. She was… delayed.” As he spoke, he seemed to be selecting each word with careful effort. “Yes, that’s right—she was late in getting the report back to me. I have deadlines.” His face relaxed. “She was new to the job, and it was just a minor infraction. I let it go. Where did you hear—” Leland stopped himself and smiled coldly. “Well, if you would excuse me. Have a good day.”
Jack looked up from his notepad, prepared to press Leland on the issue, but he froze. Through the glass doors, he saw the elevator that led to the upper floors. And stepping off that elevator was Detective Lyle Vargas.
Jack spun on his heel and headed for the Impala.
Chandler was pacing back and forth beside the car.
“Get in, get in, get in.” Jack’s words snapped like a machine gun as he hurried to the driver’s side. “Vargas is right behind me.”
Chandler jumped into the passenger seat. “Oh, man.”
There was no time to pull away, so instead Jack just kept his head down, pretending to fiddle with the radio. Detective Vargas stepped out onto the sidewalk, marched over to his car—directly in front of the Impala—and stopped. If he turned to his right…
Jack held his breath.
Vargas just stood there by his car door, staring across the street.
“What’s he doing?” Chandler whispered.
“Shh…”
Vargas crossed the road and headed to the burrito stand.
Jack sat up, started the car, rolled back two feet, and then pulled out—all the while keeping his head turned away from Vargas.
Once they were clear, Chandler looked back and grinned. “You were awesome!” He held up a huge fist.
Jack knuckle-bumped his friend. “I don’t know if I asked the right questions.”
“What? You did great with Lori and Betty.” Chandler’s face fell. “Did you screw up with Leland?”
“No, but I could have done better. He worked late with Stacy that night. He also admitted he argued with her.”
“You got that out of him? How is that screwing up?”
“I should have researched H.T. Wells. Seen what they do. When Jeremy heard Leland arguing with Stacy, it wasn’t because he needed something right away. It was something about a company called Right-A-Way Shipping. They must be a client. We need to take a closer look at them. And at Leland.”
17
It’ll Cost You
“Hey, Mom!” Jack called out as he and Chandler walked through the front door.
“Hi, honey.” Mrs. Stratton came out of the study and gave them both big hugs. “I’ve been worried sick about you since what happened in the park.”
“I’m fine, Mom.” Jack gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “If I’m going into law enforcement, I have to get used to that kind of thing.”
His mom’s gaze shifted to Chandler. “How could someone get used to that?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying to him, Mrs. Stratton,” Chandler said.
Jack headed upstairs. “I just need to use my computer to look some stuff up. I shouldn’t be too long.”
He and Chandler planned to spend the rest of the afternoon going over everything they could find on the Internet regarding everyone mentioned in Jack’s notebook.
They started by looking for information on Leland Chambers. It wasn’t hard to find. Soon Jack’s monitor was covered with b
usiness articles, several social media pages, and even a scathing review that Leland had left regarding a Mexican restaurant. But none of it seemed to have any relevance to the case.
“How about we take another look at Nina’s Facebook?” Chandler said. “Maybe Two Point reached back out to her?”
Jack opened a new tab. But besides pictures of some “cute outfits” Nina had picked up shopping—and more photos of things she’d still like to buy—there was nothing new.
Jack pulled up the H.T. Wells website next. “H.T. Wells is having a memorial run for Stacy next weekend,” Jack read. “The proceeds are going to help pay for her funeral expenses.”
“Why would her husband need help paying for the funeral?” Chandler wondered. “I thought they owned a house.”
“Apparently they were under some financial strain as it was,” Jack said, reading the details. “They both had good jobs, but neither of them had been there long—not long enough to really save anything.”
“That sucks. You get good jobs, a house and then… boom. Everything is gone.”
Jack pulled up Michael Shaw’s Facebook page. The last post was a week before the murder. There was a picture of Michael and Stacy at a work picnic for his company, Connect IT. They both looked happy. Stacy beamed at the camera, her eyes sparkling. But Jack couldn’t stop a different image of Stacy popping into his head: her body underwater, her dull eyes staring at nothing.
He quickly closed the tab, typed “Connect IT” into the search bar, and went to the web page for Michael’s company. Connect IT was a small firm that created software apps for cellphone users. Idly, Jack said, “Do you know what I’m getting for my birthday from my parents? I think they’re buying me a phone.”
Chandler didn’t say anything.
Jack looked over his shoulder at his friend. Chandler’s lips were pushed tightly together.
Jack smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Don’t tell them I told you.” Chandler flopped down on the bed, and the mattress groaned. “How’d you guess?”
“I didn’t until I saw your face.” Jack laughed. “I was just thinking that this app here would be cool when we’re overseas. It’s like party chat—we can call my parents and then they can call Aunt Haddie. We get them all on the line at once and save some cash by only having to make one call.”
“Sweet.” Chandler grinned. “It’s a two-fer.” His grin widened. “Actually, for me, it’s a zero-fer because you’ll be paying for the call.”
Next, Jack pulled up the website for Right-A-Way Shipping. “Ha—you gotta look at this. This website looks like someone’s kid made it.”
Chandler sat up and made a face when he saw the animated packages flying across the screen. “Wow, that really is cheesy. I could make a better website than that.”
“No you couldn’t.”
“Shut up.”
Jack searched every page of the Right-A-Way website. He made notes as he went and printed out page after page of everything from news articles to their corporate management team bios. All of it was dry and none of it seemed to add up to anything.
Chandler finally sat up and stretched. “Hey, are you getting hungry?”
“No, but feel free to go get a snack. My mom will make you something. I just want to check one more thing.”
Chandler stood. “Look up whatever you want. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
As soon as Chandler was out of the room, Jack pulled up Kelly’s Facebook page. The first thing he saw was that she’d put up a picture of her and Jack. That quickened his pulse. But it was what he saw next that got his heart kicking up a gear.
She had changed her status from “Single” to “In a Relationship.”
Jack quickly switched over to his own Facebook page and followed suit. He typed Kelly a short message to let her know that he was thinking about her, then he followed Chandler downstairs.
Jack stopped in the kitchen doorway. Chandler sat at the kitchen table and looked up with a grin on his face that said it all: he was in heaven. Spread out before him was a plate with a double-decker home-grilled cheeseburger on a toasted deli roll. Pickles, chips, and potato salad were on the side. A huge glass of chocolate milk was at his right hand, and three different types of cupcakes were on his left.
“How are you not as round as a circle?” Chandler mumbled with his mouth full.
“Because I have a little trick called self-control.” Jack looked for his mother, but the kitchen was empty. “Mom?”
His mother came up from the cellar carrying a tub of vanilla ice cream. “I thought a small root beer float would be nice for dessert.” She smiled.
Chandler’s eyes lit up.
“He’s got three cupcakes for dessert, Mom.” Jack thrust his hand at the food. “He’s going to gain five pounds from this meal alone.”
“He’s a growing boy.”
“He’s growing all right,” Jack nodded. “Growing sideways.”
“Shh. Be nice.” His mother pulled out a chair, and Jack sat.
Be nice, Chandler mouthed with a playful grin before he took another bite of his burger.
Jack’s mom brought over a burger for Jack, then left the room, leaving the two boys alone.
“At least skip the desserts,” Jack said.
“They’re not desserts.” Chandler pointed to one of the cupcakes. “They’re samples. So they don’t count.”
“Samples of what?” Jack asked.
“Your mom made a bunch of different kinds of cupcake to see which flavor you liked best for a birthday cake.”
“I don’t want a birthday cake.”
“Shh…” Chandler pointed to the door as Jack’s mother came back in.
“I almost forgot your dessert, Jack.” She walked over to the counter and picked up a plate piled with cupcakes. “What flavor would you like, honey?”
Jack grumbled.
As Jack and Chandler drove away from Jack’s house, Chandler leaned back in the seat and rubbed his belly. “Wow. Your mom is beyond sweet. Where are we going?”
“Hamilton Park.”
“What? It’s late.”
“Are you scared?”
“Ha ha. Yeah, I am,” Chandler said. “Do you have any idea who comes out after dark at Hamilton Park?”
“I’ll hold your hand.”
“I just thought of another good question. Why are we going there now?”
“I want to see the park as it looks at the same time as the crime. Come on. It’s a nice night. It’ll take, like, fifteen minutes. If I don’t go, I know I’ll stay up all night thinking about it, because right now I can’t picture what happened. It’s like a black void. I want to take some notes.”
“Fine.” Chandler leaned his face toward the breeze coming in the window. “It is nice out.”
A short while later, Jack parked by the entrance of Hamilton Park. Chandler yawned and stretched as he got out. Jack leaned over and opened the glove compartment. He moved some stuff around, frowning.
“What are you looking for?” Chandler asked.
“A flashlight.” Jack got out and opened the trunk. He rummaged around and found a small flashlight.
“Where to?” Chandler asked.
Jack pointed. “H.T. Wells is across the street there. If Stacy was walking home, she would have come this way.”
“But she didn’t walk home. Her car was at Ford’s Crossing,” Chandler said.
“You’re assuming she drove it there.”
“How else did the car get there? Fly?”
“Say someone did rob her. They could have taken her keys and stolen the car. Then they drove it over there, crashed it, and ditched it.”
Chandler had a habit of thinking with his eyes closed. They were closed now, and his head tilted to the side. His lips moved too. “Wait!” He held up a forefinger. “Why would she leave her car at work and walk home?”
“Car problems?”
“Then how did the car get to Ford’s Crossing?”
&n
bsp; “Good point,” Jack conceded. “I’m only trying to think outside the box. What if she had planned on going back to work? What if she was taking a break?”
“Who in their right mind takes a break by going for a walk in Hamilton Park at night? It’s crazy. That means we’re nuts, too, so get this crazy train moving, Conductor Jack, and let’s get in and get gone.”
They walked into the park. It was a popular spot for runners, skateboarders, and walkers, and paved, lighted paths zigzagged throughout. “Stacy would have had three main routes to go,” Jack said. “I don’t think she’d take the big loop around the edge.”
“Why not? She might have gone anywhere if she was just taking a break, like you said.”
“True. But if she was heading home,” said Jack, “then she’d take the middle path on the right. That’d be the best route to her house. Besides, it goes past bench thirteen, and if we’re assuming she was killed near where we found her, then that’s got to be the path she took.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Chandler.
Hamilton Park wasn’t as deserted as Jack thought it would be. As they walked, they saw a few homeless people, some sleeping on benches, others walking around.
Then headlights appeared in the distance, on the loop road that circled the park.
“The park’s closed to traffic,” Jack said. “It must be cops.”
“Aunt Haddie told me they’re increasing park patrols. Just remember to stay far below the radar. The last thing we need is a cop asking us what the hell we’re doing,” Chandler muttered.
As the headlights faded away, the park was quiet. Earlier, the sound of cars from the street had provided a comforting background noise, but now all they heard were crickets and their own footsteps. The air was warm and still. The leaves in the trees hung frozen, without even the slightest breeze to move them. It was as if they were trespassing in the darkness and something wasn’t happy about them being there.
Up ahead, leaning against a light pole, was a woman smoking a cigarette. “Hi, boys,” she purred as they approached. The tone of her voice, the five-inch heels, the Dolly Parton wig, micro skirt, and skintight top—it all left no doubt as to her profession.
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 16