Chandler walked away from the fence fast. “Dracula is off-the-rails nuts. He thinks he’s still on active duty. Did you hear him talking about messengers? Does he see imaginary people?”
“I don’t think so. I think I know exactly who he’s talking about.”
“He’s crazy. He said the messengers were wired together to a clock.”
“No, he said they’re wired to the RO so they could talk to the Tock. RO is marine speak for radio operator. Alex was saying that runners are connected to tactical operations command: TOC. He’s talking about joggers out for a run. I think Alex believes that the joggers’ music players are radios.”
“You know that’s the textbook definition of officially crazy.”
“Yeah. He may be nuts, but he did see a runner near the fountain.”
“So? There have to be fifty runners a day in that park.”
“Not with bright-green sneakers. We need to take another look at Leland Chambers.”
20
Friends
Tuesday morning, Jack sat in the Impala outside H.T. Wells. Chandler was helping Mr. Emerson again today, so Jack was alone. He watched the crowd walking up and down the street until he saw the person he was looking for: Betty Robinson, stepping out of the building for a smoke break.
He hopped out of the car and caught up to her just as she lit a cigarette. “Excuse me, Mrs. Robinson? Jack Stratton. We met the other day.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I have a favor to ask.”
Betty exhaled, and the smoke coiled out like a snake. “With what?”
“The man they arrested for Stacy’s murder—I don’t believe he did it. I’m trying to find out who did. You’re Stacy’s friend. I’m hoping you’ll help me again.”
“Why are you looking into this? Is the man they arrested a friend of yours or something?”
“Not really. But I know him, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it. I really need your help.”
Betty eyed Jack up and down. “Okay. I’ll listen, but over there.” She led Jack over to the farthest corner of the building. Foot traffic was light, and no one paid them any attention. Betty flicked a long ash onto the ground. “Why do you think I can help?”
“I read your bio on the website. You’ve been at the company twenty-five years. You started as a receptionist. You probably know more about this company than the owner.”
She smiled.
“I need you to look up a report.”
She took a long, slow drag of her cigarette. As the paper burned away, she watched Jack with the interest of a fisherman scrutinizing a bobber. Smoke slowly drifted up as she silently studied him. She wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “What’s the report?”
“The Right-A-Way Shipping report that Stacy was working on. You trained her, so you must have access to it.”
“I’m not giving you company material, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I don’t even need to see it. But if something’s wrong with that report, I need to know.”
Betty took another long drag of her cigarette. “You think Leland Chambers had something to do with Stacy’s murder, don’t you?”
Now it was Jack’s turn to stare. He didn’t know how much to say.
But Jack’s hesitation caused Betty’s expression to sour. “If you’re asking me to help you, you’ll have to trust me,” she said.
Jack sighed. “Okay. Stacy and her boss argued the night she disappeared. And it was over that report. When I asked Mr. Chambers about it…” Jack searched for the right word. “It bothered him. A lot.”
“That explains things,” Betty said. “Leland came to my office with his panties in a twist after talking with you. He wanted to know what I told you that Stacy and I talked about.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing—because you didn’t hear that from me. After that, he made a beeline for the only other person who could have told you anything about that night.”
Jack knew who that was, but he tried to appear cavalier. “Who?”
“The only other person in the building that night was a janitor named Jeremy.” She looked at Jack carefully, as if to identify whether the name rang a bell. “I’m not sure what Jeremy said to him, but after that, Leland fired him.”
“He fired him?” Jack’s head jerked back. A heaviness settled in his stomach. “For just talking to me?”
Betty smiled. “So you did talk to him. And yeah.” She dropped her cigarette and ground it into bits with her heel. “Look, Leland is a complete scumbag and sleaze, but he’d have to slither even lower to be a murderer. So what if he got worked up about a report? That’s no motive for murder. Hell, I hate my job, and I hate Leland, but he’s still breathing.”
“But Leland admitted going for a run in the park. It was around the same time Stacy went missing.”
“Leland admitted that?”
“Yeah. And someone saw him close to where Stacy was killed, too. All I’m asking is for you to look at the report. Check if something is in there. If Leland did have a motive, you’ll find it in that report.”
Betty turned away and stared at the park.
“Stacy was your friend,” Jack said.
Betty’s eyes narrowed. “And she’s dead. Stacy talked to me about that report that night too. You think that report may be the reason she was killed, and now you want me to poke my nose into it?” She took out her cigarette pack but glanced at her watch and put the pack back in her pocket. “I need to think about it. It was nice to see you again, Jack Stratton. But let’s try not to make this a habit.” She turned and walked back to the entrance to the building.
Jack got back in the Impala and headed east. He wanted to question Alex Hernandez more—to find out if he’d seen anything else that night. As he stopped at a red light, he glanced up at the sun, wondering whether Dracula would be in a better mood during the day.
“Hey, Jack!”
Jack turned his head to see Kelly rushing out the front door of a clothing store. She looked like a whirligig in a hurricane as she waved to him from the sidewalk.
Jack pulled over at the corner and hopped out. Kelly rushed over and gave him a quick kiss, while Courtney and two other girls exited the store and walked up behind her.
“Hello.” Jack pulled her in close. “What are you up to?”
“We were shopping.” Kelly turned to her friends. “This is Leesa and Stephanie.”
“You’re technically still shopping.” Courtney tipped her head toward Bottega Maria, the woman’s clothing store on the corner. “All your bags are still on the counter, and you haven’t paid. You’d better hurry back before the clerk decides you’ve abandoned her.”
“Oh, crud!” Kelly groaned.
Jack looked back at his double-parked Impala. “I’ll wait here. Go get your stuff.”
“I’ll be, like, a minute.”
“Take your time.”
Stephanie and Leesa accompanied Kelly back into the store, but Courtney called after them, “I’ll keep Jack company.”
Kelly waved over her shoulder and disappeared inside.
“You girls having fun shopping?”
“Yes.” Courtney’s foot bounced as she stared at Jack. She looked like she was debating something. “I don’t want to dump this on you but…”
Jack leaned against the Impala and waited for her to continue.
“Don’t say I said anything.”
“You haven’t said anything.”
Courtney rolled her eyes. “Just promise you won’t say something if I tell you something.”
Jack crossed his arms and gave her no answer.
“Warner has been bothering Kelly. Texting her and calling her a bunch of times.”
“He has?”
“She’s upset. I think… I think he’s been following her too.”
Jack straightened up. “What’s Warner drive?”
“His father’s silver BMW Z4.”
“Where
does he live?”
“You’re not going to talk to him, are you?”
Jack’s jaw clenched. “Kelly’s upset. I want her un-upset. So I’m going to have a little chat with Warner. Do you think he’s dangerous?”
Courtney shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t think so. I think he’s just jealous.”
“What’s his last name—”
Kelly, Stephanie, and Leesa came hurrying out of the boutique. Kelly had two shopping bags in each hand. “I bought a sweet outfit for Friday.”
Jack forced a smile. “Can’t wait.” He reached for the passenger door handle on the Impala. “Can I talk to you Kelly, for a second?”
“Oh, no!” Leesa grabbed Kelly’s arm. “Hair and nails! We’re late. We’ll lose our spot.”
Kelly shook her head. “You guys go.”
“You have to come, Kelly!” Stephanie grabbed her other arm. “You’re paying.”
Kelly looked pleadingly at Jack.
“Go,” Jack said. “I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll call you tonight. I miss you.” Kelly blushed.
As the four of them hurried down the sidewalk, Courtney turned around and mouthed, “I’ll call you.”
Jack hopped back in his car and pulled out. And as he drove down the street, he kept his eyes peeled for a silver BMW.
Jack walked through the east entrance of Hamilton Park. The park looked much prettier during the day than it did at midnight, but even with the sun rising in the sky, Jack was on edge. In the same way a carpenter could stand in the middle of a finished home but still picture the frame and joists hidden beneath the walls, Jack watched the smiling people chatting away and playing Frisbee but knew the dangers that lurked unseen there. Drugs, prostitution, homelessness: they faded during the day, but they weren’t gone. Just harder to see.
Jack had only gone a little way when he saw Michelle walking across the park by herself.
“Michelle!” he called.
She turned and waved, then ran over to him. “What’s up, my brother?”
“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Jack asked.
“What? I went to the Y.”
“You shouldn’t be walking in the park alone.”
Michelle looked around, confused. “It’s during the day. It’s fine. And I’m on my way home.”
“I don’t care. The park’s dangerous. Come on.” Jack motioned for her to follow him.
“Where?”
“I’m walking you home. Come on.”
Michelle made a face. “You sound like Aunt Haddie.” But she fell into step beside him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Not a good day?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Well, for starters, I found out I just got someone fired.”
Jack told her about Jeremy. He always found it easy to talk to Michelle. She listened politely and only asked an occasional question.
As they walked, Jack talking and Michelle listening, Jack found his eyes drawn to a man in the distance, walking toward them from the other direction. Something about the man seemed off. Maybe it was his crisp tan pants and bright new shirt? But as Jack kept an eye on him, he changed his mind—it was the man’s walk that stood out. He was tall but his stride was hitched, as though he was forcing himself to walk slowly.
Jack stopped.
“What’s up?” Michelle asked.
Jack pressed a finger to his lips. He felt as if he were watching a bad actor in a play. Someone given the simple task of walking across the stage and nodding.
And that’s what the man did. He was approaching a woman on a bench—a tall, shapely brunette, dressed for summer. He nodded to the woman, then looked forward again. But his motions were stiff and robotic and not natural at all. When he reached the end of the bench, he took his hand out of his pocket and dropped something.
The bad theatrics caused Jack’s adrenaline to kick in.
He’s setting her up. Like a spider and a fly, he’s drawing her in closer to him.
The woman rose off the bench and walked nearer to the man. She called out to him, and he stopped. She bent down and picked up whatever it was he’d dropped.
The man walked back toward the woman.
She looked down at the object in her hand.
The man moved even closer.
“That guy’s up to something,” Jack said to Michelle. “Listen, run to the front of the park and get a cop.”
“What’s going on? I’m not leaving you.”
“No. Get a cop. Understand?”
Michelle turned and bolted for the entrance.
Jack jogged down the path. Neither the man nor the woman saw him approaching.
The woman suddenly jumped away from the man as though she had seen a snake. She ran, but the man’s hand snapped out and seized her wrist.
Jack sprinted forward.
“Let go of me!” the woman screamed.
Jack’s long legs covered the distance in seven strides.
Glimpsing movement, the man turned toward Jack.
Jack lunged. His shoulder caught the man just below his sternum, and the man’s breath exploded out of his lungs. Jack’s arms wrapped around the man’s thighs and yanked his legs out from under him. Momentum carried them across the path.
The man groaned as he landed hard on his back with Jack on top of him.
Jack grabbed the guy’s shoulder, rolled him onto his belly, and wrenched one arm up behind his back. His other hand pressed the man’s face into the dirt.
“It’ll be all right, ma’am,” Jack yelled. “POLICE!”
The woman turned and ran.
“Police!” Jack yelled again.
Almost instantly, nearly a dozen police officers appeared from every direction. They raced across the grass and out of the woods.
Jack was surprised by the sheer number of cops showing up so fast. “He was attacking her,” he said to the cop who reached him first. He tilted his chin toward the fleeing woman. “He grabbed her wrist.”
The cop yanked Jack to his feet. Jack smiled proudly when a second cop took out his handcuffs. A third officer pointed at Jack and said, “Put your hands behind your head.”
“Me? This woman was being attacked.”
A couple of officers helped the guy Jack had planted into the ground get up. They didn’t cuff him. Instead, they wiped the dirt off his shirt.
“What’s going on?” Jack looked around, puzzled. “Why aren’t you arresting him?”
The guy he had tackled turned toward Jack. “I’m Officer Barton of the Fairfield PD.” He pulled out his badge. “And you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.”
The policeman with the cuffs snapped one around Jack’s wrist. Jack felt the cold metal against the scar that circled above his hand. Panic shot through him like electricity through a condemned man. His whole body stiffened.
The cop grabbed Jack’s other arm, but Jack held it rigid. “Don’t make this harder on yourself, kid.” The burly cop tried to bend Jack’s arm, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Give him your other arm,” another cop commanded.
Jack knew what he should do. And he wanted to cooperate—but his body refused to obey. Terror seized him, stripping away rational thought, until only raw emotion remained. He remembered the searing heat in his wrist, the fiery pain, and the odor of burnt flesh.
The other cops circled closer. “Give me your arm,” the policeman ordered again.
A beefy officer stepped in and placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder, while another placed his hand on his nightstick.
Jack clamped his eyes closed and forced his arm to bend.
The policeman yanked Jack’s arm behind him and up. Jack tipped forward as the handcuff clicked closed.
21
Facts
Once again, Jack found himself seated in the police department interrogation room. The uniformed police officer guarding the door was differ
ent, but everything else was as Jack remembered it. The cop looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but here.
So did Jack.
The door swung wide. When Jack saw Vargas’s red face, he was surprised the door hadn’t slammed into the wall.
Detective Vargas strode over to the other side of the table from Jack. The metal chair scraped across the floor as he dragged it backward. He put one shiny shoe up on the chair and tossed some folders down. “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”
Several flippant answers came to Jack’s mind, but instead he answered, “No, sir.”
“Let’s start with you explaining why you were in the park,” Vargas said.
“I was cutting through. I saw that guy grab a lady.”
“A lady? Ha! That’s rich. Try a lady of the night. I’m sure that the great Detective Stratton has figured out by now how badly he screwed up our prostitution sting, right? That guy was an undercover cop, and that ‘lady’ was a prostitute.”
Jack ground his teeth.
Vargas laughed. “I did a background check on you.” He crossed his arms. “You’d think that with your background you’d know how to pick out a hooker. Your mother was one, right?”
Jack kicked the table back with his leg. He started to stand, but the cop at the door stepped over and placed a large hand on his shoulder. “Settle down.”
Vargas just smiled, which made Jack want to lunge across the table at him even more. He knew Vargas was just trying to get to him—and he also knew it was working.
Jack sat back down and tried to control his anger. Inside, he’d already jumped over the table and was going to town on Vargas—slapping that mocking grin off his face.
The cop stayed next to Jack while Vargas kept pushing. “So you were trying to help that woman? Do you know Brittani Roldan?”
“No.”
“You’ve never seen Brittani before today?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about. Is that the girl in the park?”
“She’s the hooker you ‘rescued.’” Vargas made air quotes. “We both know that’s bull. Why don’t you just level with me, Stratton. She’s working for you, right?”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 19