His training in domestic violence kicked in. Beaten women often turned on the authorities and protected their abuser.
“Momma?” the little girl tugged on Nancy’s shirt.
Jack could tell that she was on the edge of letting him have access to the apartment.
“Nancy.” Jack paused and lowered his voice to a whisper.
She looked confused for a second and then looked down at the little girl. She grabbed her daughter and pulled her closer.
“You want him to get help, right?” Jack looked down at the little girl. “Everyone needs help sometimes.”
A soft cry escaped her mouth and she shook her head.
She kept her gaze down as she whispered the words, “He’s in the bedroom.”
That was all Jack needed to hear. He nodded to Donald and stepped into the apartment, motioning for her to leave. She scooped up her children and ran down the corridor. Jack moved into the apartment, scanning constantly. The bathroom door was open. It was empty. The bedroom door was closed.
He gestured to Donald and then pointed at the closed door. He stood to the side, out of range, and slowly attempted to turn the handle. It was locked.
He heard a door open inside the bedroom.
I knew he’d run.
“POLICE,” Jack yelled before he popped the door with a short thrust from his shoulder. The cheap plywood shattered.
He caught a glimpse of someone running out to the mini balcony that connected the two apartments. Jack rushed toward the door to the balcony. He heard a woman scream from the other apartment. Jack whipped over the railing and onto the other balcony.
“Police,” he warned as he went through the door, his gun at the ready.
The other apartment bedroom only had a mattress in the corner. A woman sat screaming on it and frantically pointed.
Jack raced across her kitchen to an open door that led out to the back of the building. He heard footsteps running down the stairway and sprinted after him.
The sound of barking dogs filled the air, followed by angry shouts from Kendra. On the second floor, Jack looked over the edge and saw Kendra macing an enormous dog that howled in pain but held its ground.
“Go around,” Jack called as he sprinted down the stairs.
Jack saw Arnold as he ran for the other side of the building. A flash of metal in Arnold’s hand caught Jack’s eye.
“Knife,” he yelled.
Jack watched Arnold knock over a chair as he scrambled away. Jack’s legs pushed into the ground; adrenaline raged as he pursued the perp. He felt power course through his body as he flew forward.
Jack rounded the corner and saw how much ground he’d gained. Arnold was now less than twenty yards away but beyond them was an open field.
“Freeze!”
Jack grabbed his nightstick and threw it sidearm. The baton caught Arnold right behind his legs, and he became entangled. Arnold’s hands went wide and he face-planted in the dirt. The knife bounced along the ground in front of him.
Kendra raced around the corner of the building and tackled Arnold.
Jack snagged his baton before he helped her cuff the guy.
“Way to go, rookie. Nice job taking this guy down,” Jack congratulated her.
Kendra was short on arrests and shorter on confidence. Being a new cop was hard enough. She had two things that made it a lot harder for her. She was a woman, and she was pretty. That meant the guys hit on her, and the few women on the force were jealous. Jack didn’t care who got credit for the arrest; he liked Kendra.
She pulled Arnold to his feet; a string of obscenities mixed with don’t and move poured from her mouth. She was beaming as Donald ran around the corner.
Kendra’s mouth was twitching between nervousness and unbridled pride. She looked up at him with a smile from ear to ear.
“I got him. I got him!”
“Nice job, Officer,” Donald said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Try to Out Shout Me
Jack stood next to Detective Charlie Flynn behind the two-way mirror and looked into the interview room where Kevin Arnold sat chained to a table.
“I appreciate this, Jack. How did you get the guy?” Detective Flynn was fifty-two years old and completely bald but had thick bushy eyebrows. His brown suit, although pressed and neat, looked to be at least ten years old.
“I got a tip that Kevin Arnold was at his girlfriend’s apartment. We picked him up this morning on an outstanding warrant. Kendra Darcey made the collar.”
Flynn chuckled. “Darcey. She’s the one with the…um, big um…eyes.” He practically drooled.
“She’s the one with the big shotgun. Anyway, she made the collar. This guy looks good for these cases.” Jack patted the folder in his hands. “I put them all in here for you.”
Flynn looked at the folder again. “Thanks. It’s great. This puts him on a silver platter for me. But what do you want again?”
“I just want to know his whereabouts before Christmas. See if he was anywhere near White Rocks.”
Flynn nodded. “He looks good for the other cases in here. He matches the description, right down to the tattoo. I think we may have found our guy.”
Jack sighed. “Right.”
Flynn walked to the door.
Jack leaned back against the wall and watched as Flynn methodically picked apart the guy’s alibis for the sexual assaults. Kevin started to squirm.
“So where were you before Christmas?”
“I was in rehab.”
“Rehab?”
“Court ordered.”
“You know the probation office would have that in their system. There’s nothing in your file here.” Flynn shuffled through the folder.
“I was out-of-state in Sanderson County Rehabilitation for four weeks. Check it out with them.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” Flynn looked over toward the two-way glass and nodded.
Jack stormed out of the room and over to his desk. He called the rehab and got them to email him the information. It was a county lockup, not a country club rehab, so there was no way he could have snuck out of it unnoticed. Still, Jack was always one for due diligence. He called and double-checked with the staff. Kevin’s story checked out. Dead end.
As he sped home, Jack’s leg shook. He looked at his hand; it trembled. He squeezed the steering wheel harder.
Get a grip, Jack.
In the field, adrenaline was like a drug that pumped him up. When he came home, he crashed—total withdrawal. Fear and doubt would drag him toward the pit of memories that he fought to escape. He couldn’t fill the abyss. He couldn’t seal it up either.
He closed his eyes for a second and pictured Donald outside the door. Jack remembered every detail. He could recall the smells and feel the sweat running down his back. It felt as if he was there again, only now, the window behind Donald shattered. Donald flew back and landed on the sand. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out. There was a huge hole in his chest. Donald reached out for Jack and gasped, “Please.”
A horn blared. Jack looked up at the oncoming truck. He had drifted into the wrong lane. He yanked the wheel hard over and swerved the car back into his lane, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the huge truck.
Dammit!
Horns blasted, drivers swore and flipped him off as he pulled onto the side of the road. He hit his hazards and put the car in park.
Blended memories. Donald’s fine. That was that kid. The one…
Jack stared straight ahead as he tried to remember the young soldier’s name. He closed his eyes.
What was it?
His breathing was ragged, and his hand shook.
It was in Iraq. I was on patrol with two other soldiers. Jimmy Tanaka. Tank. He was there.
Jack remembered his friend’s name. Jimmy was Japanese. He was only five foot five but he was a powerhouse. Jimmy may have been small, but he never backed down.
It was me, Tank, and the kid.
Jack co
uld picture him. He had short red hair and freckles. He was young, at most nineteen. He was always chewing gum.
That day they had to search a building with three doors on the front. Jack, the kid, and Tank each picked a door. They let the kid go first, and he went to the left. Tank chose the right, and Jack ended up with the middle. They were all supposed to kick the doors open on three. The kid died on two. The enemy machine gun fire blew the door apart and killed him instantly.
Damn. The kid is dead, and I can’t even remember his name.
Jack put his head down on the steering wheel.
Defeated, Jack walked in the door, and Replacement was instantly in his face.
“You went after him without me? Without ME?”
“When did you become my partner? Back off,” Jack snapped.
Replacement froze. The problem was she froze angry.
“Argh…I just walked in the door.” Jack threw his hands up.
“You said…” she growled.
“I didn’t say I’d take you.” He headed into the kitchen.
“You did.” Now she was shouting.
Go ahead and try to out shout me, kid.
“I didn’t,” he yelled louder.
“I sat around here on my ass while Michelle is out there.” Her lip trembled. “You promised that you’d take me. You—”
A loud hammering on the door interrupted her.
They both stopped. Replacement marched over and opened the door.
Jack listened while he got a glass of water. He couldn’t make out who was speaking with her. Mrs. Stevens marched into the apartment with Replacement at her side. His landlady’s face flushed a beet red as she tried to catch her breath.
Replacement’s eyes were wide, and her head twitched spastically.
Not again. Jack shut the water off.
“Mr. Stratton.” Mrs. Stevens puffed her big frame up even larger as she addressed him. “While I do appreciate how stressful law enforcement can be, I cannot permit you to yell at this poor unfortunate girl.”
“Mrs. Stevens…” Jack’s jaw clenched as he tried to control himself.
“Jack, sorry.” Replacement hopped over to him at the sink. “Jack, very sorry. Jack, are you sorry?” She put her head on his arm and looked up at him with big eyes.
Jack glared down at her. Replacement’s arm went around him, and she poked him in the side. Jack had to force himself not to laugh.
“I’m sorry. Okay?” Jack smiled thinly. “Mrs. Stevens, my…apologies.”
“Mr. Stratton, I’m trying to look out for her best interests.”
“Well, thank you. You’ve been very kind to…to her.”
“And you have too. Remember that. She’s an angel, and when you deal with her, you need patience and love. Patience and love.” Mrs. Stevens must have concluded her work here was done because she turned and waved as she headed out of the apartment.
“Patience and love. Patience and love,” Replacement repeated as she followed her. She shut the door and ran back into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Jack fiercely whispered. “Now my landlady thinks I’m a jerk.”
“No, she doesn’t. She likes you. She thinks you make poor choices in women and drink too much, though.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. “Are you talking with her? Stop, okay? I’m serious.” He paused. “How could she know I drink too much?”
“She goes through your trash.”
“She told you that?”
“She thinks I’m slow.”
“You are. I’m taking a shower,” he announced and then headed into the bedroom.
“Jerk, wait. You didn’t tell me what happened,” she protested as she followed behind him.
“Fine. Hold on.” He shut the bedroom door to close her out. “We caught the guy,” Jack yelled to Replacement.
She whipped open the door. “What? Awesome.”
Jack stood there in his underwear. “Get out.” He tossed his shirt at her.
Replacement didn’t shut the door, but she did turn around.
“Anyway, he’s the sexual predator, but he didn’t have anything to do with Michelle.” Jack headed for the shower.
“How can you say that?” Replacement walked backward and followed him.
Jack turned on the shower to let the water heat up. “He was in a lockdown rehab for four weeks in another state. He went in three weeks before Michelle went missing and was there for a week after. He couldn’t have had anything to do with it. I checked myself and confirmed it. Can you get out now?” Jack jumped behind the opaque shower curtain.
Replacement kicked the wall and half of her foot disappeared into the drywall. “Oh, crap.” She knelt down and tried to pull the cracked piece back into place. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled.
“Forget it, kid.” Jack kept his back to her and twisted around. “I’m pretty good at patching walls.” He stuck his face under the water.
“I’m sorry.”
“I can fix it.”
“Not just for that.” Replacement stood up. “I’ve been a psycho. You’re right. I’m a little…mental.”
Jack laughed.
“Thanks for agreeing.” She sniffled.
He peeked around the curtain, and Replacement now leaned against the sink. “Everyone is a little mental, kid. Apology accepted. Can you please get out?” Jack turned his back on her.
“I have my eyes closed.”
“Get out.”
“Victor wrote back. He went to Western Tech and asked around, but Michelle has never been out there.”
“How can he be sure about that?” Jack splashed his face in the water.
“It was the same story that Neil Waters told us. She signed up for classes, but no one had seen her. He showed the picture around. Victor said maybe she signed up electronically.”
“Well, at least we sort of ruled that out.”
“Sort of? She didn’t go.” Replacement tossed her hands up in the air.
Jack slowly turned his head. “How do you know he emailed me?”
“You use the same password for everything.” She hopped up on the sink. “That’s not smart.”
Jack stood there blinking.
It wasn’t smart but…
“You read my email?”
“I needed to see what he wrote. I found something else, too—an entry in the error log of the police database. It’s only one line.”
“In the error log? How could you get to the error log? Isn’t that on the backend of the system?” Jack looked back at her.
“Once you’re in a system, it’s easy to move around.” Her shoulders popped up and down.
Jack let the hot water wash over him as he tried to think about what she’d just said. He yanked the curtain around himself and glared at her as the meaning hit him.
“Are you saying you hacked the police database?”
“No. I just gained access to the backend.”
“Accessed the backend? You hacked the database.”
“I don’t call it that.” She crossed her arms. “I just exploited a security flaw.”
“That’s hacking. Did you use my account?” Now his eyes were wide.
“No. I made my own account.” She twisted back and forth. “Don’t sweat it. They won’t know. Their security sucks. I used my laptop, so they have no way to trace an IP even if they did suspect something. I mask, then go through a VPN, and then double jump high anonymity proxies. The second proxy is offshore, so don’t sweat it. No one is following my butt.” She grinned.
“Out. Get your butt the hell out.” His voice rose.
“Shh…I’m sorry.”
Jack shut the curtain and just as quickly pulled it back again.
“Damn it. What did you find out?”
She turned back around.
“Look, get on the other side of the door and tell me.”
She made a face but still walked out, pulled the door almost closed and pressed her face against the opening.
“Someone started to run a site inspection on Michelle’s car. I don’t know—”
“A site inspection? Are you sure?” Jack switched the water off.
“Yeah. It was only one line, two codes in an error log file. The license plate number partially matched, and the purpose field said site inspection. I think they didn’t put in enough information, and it errored out.”
“Turn around. I have to get dressed.” Jack jumped out of the shower.
“What’s a site inspection?”
“That’s police speak for an abandoned vehicle in an accident. If you find an abandoned car that shows signs of being in an accident, you have to do a site inspection. You first run the plate. Someone started one. Did it have a date?”
“No. Just those two fields.”
“I don’t know what went wrong, but if a cop ran a site inspection, the next step is the car gets towed. There’s only one impound they’d take the car to. Now, turn around.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Killer Reindeer
Jack had to keep forcing himself to slow down as they raced out to Sullivan’s Auto and Salvage. Sullivan’s was the main towing company the police used, and the official impound yard. The gigantic auto yard was on the west end of Darrington County. Most cars ended up as scrap, but if they towed a car, they’d take it there.
I should have checked there first.
Jack pulled down the rearview mirror and glared at himself, but his reflection glared right back. Jack’s harshest critic was Jack.
Jerk.
Jack flipped the mirror up.
Replacement fit the role of his new puppy more and more. It was forty-two degrees outside, but she had her window half open and kept popping her head out. She hopped in her seat, and he had the feeling he should roll the window up, or she’d jump out.
It was starting to get dark, so once they got out of town, he punched it. His Impala’s gas pedal was about as sensitive as a moody schoolgirl. The difference between going twenty and one hundred twenty miles an hour was about half an inch. He knew how she ran, and she never left him stranded: 185,768 miles and she still purred.
He decided to give Replacement the look that said, “Don’t worry, I can handle driving this fast.” One glance at her and he could tell she loved speed and was grateful they were getting there fast.
GIRL JACKED (Crime and Punishment Mystery Thriller Series) Page 9