Clark shook his head. “I’m not jeopardizing that. Look, like you said, you didn’t break any laws—from what you told me. But this isn’t a game, Jack.” He closed his notebook. “Do you know what you’ve figured out? Nothing. Detective Vargas has everything you gave me.”
“What? How?” Jack shook his head. “Vargas wasn’t looking into this. He’s focused on Jay.”
Clark looked at the sky. “You rushed to a judgment about the police and Detective Vargas. You thought because Jay confessed to finding the wallet that we’d just stick a bow on it, have a few drinks, and pat each other on the back. Well, you’re wrong, Jack. It doesn’t work that way. We don’t work that way.”
“But you’re not even looking—”
“We’ve had an APB out for Tommy Martin since the day Stacy went missing. We know what we’re doing, Jack. We just don’t make everything public knowledge, especially to someone we think is his friend.”
“But what about the other suspects?”
“Detective Vargas interviewed everyone at H.T. Wells. We canvassed the park with more than a few dozen officers and interviewed anyone who might have seen or heard anything. We brought in Michael Shaw for questioning too. Right at the start.”
“But you didn’t know about the affair.”
“We did. Shaw told us about it, first thing. He was ashamed, but he came clean.”
“He told you about having an affair?”
“Shaw made it sound like it was over but he told us everything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Jack, having an affair makes him a scumbag, but it doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“But it’s a motive.”
“It could be. But a good deal of the population has affairs, and they’re not killing each other.”
“Maybe Michael took out a huge insurance policy on Stacy?” Jack suggested. “That would give him motive.”
“I’m not sure if he had any insurance. If he did, it wasn’t much.” Clark flipped his notebook closed. “Michael Shaw was in Schenectady for work. Do you know how we know that?”
Jack didn’t say anything. He wanted to find a hole to crawl in and die.
“We investigated every lead. We pulled Stacy’s and Michael’s cell phone records. We even pulled the surveillance footage from that hotel. Michael’s car didn’t leave the parking lot. Detective Vargas even drove up to Schenectady and interviewed the damn concierge who was on duty that night.”
“I didn’t know.”
“There’s a lot you didn’t know. Do you want to? Do you want to know what’s really going on?”
Jack forced himself to look Clark in the eye.
“Then let me tell you. Up until twenty-four hours ago, we had an airtight case against the guy who killed Stacy Shaw—Jay Martin. But Jay and his family played you. They know you want to be a cop. They got you to pretend that you are one. They got you to run around and taint witnesses. Jay came up with the bullcrap story ‘It wasn’t me, it was my brother dressed in my clothes,’ and you bought it. I warned you. You should’ve listened to your head and looked at the facts. The facts say Jay Martin killed Stacy Shaw. I believe them. You should too. You got played, kid.”
Jack’s head spun.
“You’re a good guy, Jack. You meant well. But this isn’t your job; it’s mine. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
Jack nodded. His chest felt as if a boa constrictor was crushing it. “Yes, sir.” He hung his head.
Clark moved closer. “Listen, I won’t let this screw up the Army. I’ll run interference with Detective Vargas. But I need you to stay the hell out of this now. Putting your old man on you is the only way I know to keep you away.”
Jack stared at his feet. He’d gotten it wrong. He didn’t just feel foolish—he felt worthless.
On top of that, now he had to deal with his father.
28
Trouble
Jack watched his dad pace back and forth across the kitchen floor. For the past ten minutes that was all he had done—pace. Detective Clark had told his father everything outside the police station. Jack had repeated it in the car. Now all Jack could do was wait.
His mother sat at the other end of the kitchen table. Once again the Stratton family kitchen resembled a courtroom more than a dining area. It was a too-familiar situation for them all, because of their wild, quick-to-anger, high-maintenance, impetuous, rebellious son, Jack. Jack’s father was like a judge, ready to lower the boom, and his mother acted as the defense attorney begging for mercy for her client, who sat silently on the witness stand.
Ted took off his glasses. As he cleaned the lenses, he stared at the floor. When he finally looked up, in his eyes Jack saw what he dreaded—disappointment.
“Jack, I’m unhappy with your decisions on many levels. The worst part is that you put Chandler’s future in jeopardy.”
“What? I never said Chandler was there.”
Ted leveled his gaze at Jack. “You didn’t have to. Thick as thieves. If you’re around, I just need to look for his shadow.” He sighed. “Chandler needs that tuition reimbursement program. I can’t believe you’d risk that for him.”
“But Dad—”
“You should have come to me. You’re still under this roof, even if you just turned eighteen.”
Jack tried to stifle his groan.
“Your mother got a cake. She made a special dinner that’s now sitting in the refrigerator—”
“I didn’t want anything. I hate this cursed, rotten, worthless day.”
“We don’t usually see things from polar opposite positions, but to me and your mom, this is a very blessed day.”
“You sound like Aunt Haddie. I just don’t see it that way. I think about today and I just see her walking away from me. She wouldn’t even turn around.”
“Is that why you acted this way? Why you’ve been so desperately struggling to prove your worth by solving this crime?”
Jack shrugged.
“Maybe you need to stop looking at yourself that way. You’re looking back. You’re watching her, and your past. If you turn around, you’ll see all the people who are waiting for you—Aunt Haddie, Chandler, Michelle, your mom. Looking forward might be a little less painful.”
Jack kept looking down. He knew his father was right. The truth was, ever since that day, his life had taken a different trajectory—up.
“What concerns me is your decisions,” his father continued. “You had many other options. You could have come to me, your mother, Detective Clark—”
“I went to Clark and he finked me out.”
“He didn’t. He had an obligation to tell his superiors and to call me. He should have, and he did. That was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to, but he did it.”
“That’s my argument, Dad. I didn’t want to help Jay. I don’t like him. But it was the right thing to do. So I did it.”
“But you had other options. You went at it all wrong.”
“What other options? I went to Clark, but the cops weren’t doing… I didn’t think the police were doing anything.”
“But they were.”
The words had a finality to them. They hung in the air and shot down any argument Jack could think of.
He put his head in his hands.
“I need to get ready for night school,” said Jack’s dad. “We’ll finish this discussion when I come home.”
He kissed his wife, then picked up his wallet and keys from the table and marched across the kitchen. He hesitated at the door. “I love you both.” He didn’t look back.
“That went better than I expected.” Jack’s mother squeezed Jack’s hand.
Jack stood. “It was a suspended verdict. I’ll get a life sentence when he comes home.”
“I’m sure your father will have calmed down by then. Would you like me to heat something up for you?”
“No thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk
about.” Jack let his arms flop down on the table. “The police have been looking at other suspects. Vargas has been doing his job. I was wrong.”
His mother laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Because you’re my mom.”
“No.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “I love you because I’m your mother. I believe you’re right because you’re Jack.”
“I was wrong, Mom.” Jack sighed. “It’s that simple. I don’t know who killed Stacy Shaw.”
“Just because you haven’t figured it out, doesn’t make you wrong.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think I’ve sat down and watched a movie or TV mystery in the past seven years that you haven’t solved before the end.”
“That’s different, Mom. Watching a crime show doesn’t make you a detective any more than watching The French Chef makes you a cook.”
“No. It doesn’t. But it’s a step in the right direction. So are all those books you read. So was the citizens’ academy class you took. How many times did you take that class?”
“Four,” Jack admitted. “They let you do ride-alongs.”
“Someday you’re going to have a little plaque on your desk that says Detective Jack Stratton.”
“But what about now?”
“Right now solving this murder is someone else’s job.” She held up a hand and lowered an eyebrow. “You can’t investigate this murder anymore, Jack. After you go into the Army, graduate college and the police academy, you’ll be equipped to investigate anything you want. And I’m sure you will be spectacular at it.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“All your father and I ask is that you stay out of the way of the investigation. Call Detective Clark if you think of something.”
Jack nodded.
“Good. Now please, will you let me heat something up for you? You have to eat.”
Jack smiled at his mom. He knew she couldn’t have been any happier about his mistakes than his dad was, but here she was, still just trying to take care of him. Still being a mom. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom. I’m going to go up to my room, but I’ll come back down for it.”
“No, I’ll bring it up.”
Jack ate supper at his computer. He only picked at his food. His throat felt thick and his whole body felt heavy. He knew he wasn’t coming down with anything; he felt cruddy because he’d failed. And the feeling sucked. He picked up his notebook and glared at it. “Stupid,” he muttered, and tossed the notebook across the room and into the wastebasket in the corner. “Chandler was right. I never should have started helping in the first place.”
Defeated, he pulled up his email. He was surprised to see that he had received responses from both the fertility clinic and the hair salon. He opened the email from the fertility clinic first. Chandler was right; they didn’t answer his question. Their reply was a terse one-sentence response: “Per policy, we do not comment on pending litigation.”
Jack opened the email from Luisa’s Luxe Hair Studio. They didn’t answer his question either—although they did include a coupon code for a discount on a Brazilian hot-oil treatment. Great, Jack thought.
He was leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling when his mother knocked on the door, holding the phone. She covered the receiver and said, “There’s a Betty Robinson on the phone who wants to speak with you.”
Betty Robinson? Why would she be calling? Jack had agreed to stop investigating the case, but if Betty had new information…
He eagerly took the phone from his mom, and she went back downstairs.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hi, Jack. It’s Betty Robinson. You asked me to call you if I saw anything in that report for Right-A-Way Shipping.”
“Did you did find something?” Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
“Yes. You were right—Leland was hiding something. One of the IT guys got me an old version of that file from the backup tapes. It was archived on the night Stacy disappeared. Stacy had made several notes about discrepancies. It took a lot of digging to sort through what’s going on, but—well, the short story is… Leland’s embezzling.”
“No way. How?”
“Leland has been overpaying the insurance premiums. I guess he has a contact or a partner over at Right-A-Way, as they’ve been issuing the refund check to a shell company owned by Leland’s brother-in-law. It didn’t trigger any flags because the payment to Right-A-Way is legit; it’s just too frequent. He was working the scam with a number of other companies, too. He did it again this week with a different company.”
“Have you told anyone about this?” Jack asked.
“I’m calling Detective Vargas next. And I’m going to our CFO in the morning. I wanted to tell you first because… well, you earned it.”
Jack said quickly, “If you don’t mind—please don’t mention to Vargas, or to anyone else, that I had anything to do with your research. I’m already in a bit of hot water.”
Betty chuckled. “I think I can understand why—you’ve got a way about you. Don’t worry. I won’t say your name.”
Jack exhaled. “Thank you.”
“If that son of a bitch murdered Stacy to hide what he was doing, you can bail me out after I kill him. And Jack… I still don’t understand exactly how you’re involved in this, but I’m glad you’ve stepped up. You probably saved a bunch of people’s jobs.”
“You have too, Betty. You stuck your neck out. Thanks again.”
Jack clicked the phone off and stared at the receiver in his hand. He had known something wasn’t right with Leland Chambers—and now the police would have to look harder at him. Maybe it would lead to something more. It gave Leland motive. But…
Jack thought about his list of whys. Leland’s embezzling answered several of the questions on that list, but not all of them.
He walked over to the trashcan and stared down at the notebook. He reached down for it, then hesitated.
Walk away.
Jack straightened back up and his shoulders slumped.
Walk away.
This time, he listened to that voice in his head and left the notebook in the trash.
Leave it to the police.
He grabbed his plate and headed downstairs. He put the phone on the kitchen table and his plate in the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the aspirin bottle.
Betty said Chambers ran the scam again this week. If he killed Stacy, wouldn’t he take a break and lie low?
Although he could keep himself from investigating, he apparently couldn’t stop his mind thinking about the case.
Chandler was right about the emails—the doctors told me nothing. Privacy laws shouldn’t—
Jack stopped suddenly, the aspirin forgotten. He ran back up to his computer and read the email from the clinic again.
Pending litigation.
“They didn’t say they couldn’t comment because of privacy laws. They said they couldn’t comment because of pending litigation. What litigation?”
The telephone rang. Thinking it might be Betty again, Jack ran downstairs to answer it. But it wasn’t Betty.
“Jack?”
It took Jack a second to place the voice. “Two Point?”
“I’ve got to talk to you. Can you meet me at the ball courts?”
“Why?”
“Come on. I’m there now. It’s important.”
“Listen, Two.” Jack tried to lower his voice so his mother wouldn’t hear him. “You’ve been jerking me around. I’ve almost gotten arrested—twice—all because of you and your brother. Neither of you is telling me the truth.”
“I am. I’m not lying.”
“You did before.”
“Not now,” Two Point said. “Look. I want to come clean.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Did you hear what happened to Jay?”
“No.”
“He got stabbed this morning.”
“Are you serious? Is he all right?”
&n
bsp; “No.” Two Point swallowed. “It’s bad.”
Jack’s shock shifted to anger. “That’s on you.”
“I know. I know. Look, if you come… If you come with me, I’ll talk to that suit you know.”
“You’ll tell them it was you who found the wallet?”
There was a long pause. “Yeah.”
“If you’re playing me…” Jack threatened.
“I’ll tell them it was me. I swear. On my father’s grave. I swear. But you gotta come with me.”
Jack debated. He wanted to believe Two Point, but he’d been burned before. Still… “Fifteen minutes.”
The buzz of the disconnected line rang in Jack’s ears. He clicked the phone off and set it down on the table, then spun it in a little circle.
His mother walked into the room. “You certainly are getting a lot of calls. Birthday wishes?”
“Kinda.”
“I’m going to watch a movie. Do you want to join me? I’ll let you pick.”
“Ah, no. Actually I’m going to take a ride. I’m going to the basketball courts.”
His mother’s eyebrows rose. “Well… I guess your father didn’t say anything about you being grounded. But just be careful. Okay?”
29
The Truth Will Set You Free
Two Point was pacing back and forth along the trees beside the basketball courts at Hamilton Park. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. When he saw Jack get out of the Impala, he stopped.
“You lie once to me,” Jack growled, “and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat and drag you to the cops.”
“What the hell, Stratton? I said I’d tell them it was me.” Two Point took a step back.
“Well, start talking.”
“If they have pictures of me, it had to be at the ATM. There are no cameras in the park.”
“They have a picture of you. I’ve seen it. It only caught part of your face, but Jay’s jacket. Where did you get the wallet?”
“I found it.”
“Where? Describe it.”
“You know the fountain? It was close to there. The path dips between these hills. It was pitch black—”
And Then She Was GONE: A riveting new suspense novel that keeps you guessing until the end Page 25