No bags. Pocketbook, but no bags, so she might be back.
Jack shrugged and walked over to the refrigerator. His reflection brought him up short. Stupid mirror. Who puts a mirror on a refrigerator? Gina. She said it would help her lose weight. She likes to eat, but she isn’t fat.
As he looked into the mirror, his brown eyes became darker. Way to go, Jack. Another one gone.
He was twenty-six, but he looked older.
Miles, too many miles and they were hard.
After he got back from Iraq, he tried a round robin of vices to kill his pain. Drinking, smoking, and he couldn’t remember the last vegetable he ate. Too little sleep and too much work . . . it wasn’t a shock that he looked rough. Gina dug that type of guy. She said it made him look dangerous.
Jack frowned. Well, she might come back . . . No bags.
She’d stormed out several times before over the last few months, but each time she’d returned. When she had, she was wild. His smirk broadened into a full smile as he thought about how they’d trashed the bedroom the last time.
He opened the fridge and his smile disappeared along with any hope for food.
Nothing. Damn.
The only things on the top two shelves were spots where something long ago had spilled and an empty bottle of spiced rum. He figured there would be leftovers or something, but there were only a couple of open cans and some condiments. Gina wasn’t much for keeping a well-stocked kitchen, and he wasn’t much for keeping the rum bottle full.
Now he was hungry, tired, and it was the middle of the night. He started to debate going out to pick something up when he saw the front door was open. It wasn’t the first time it had rebounded from Gina slamming it.
Stupid lock. No way am I asking the landlady to get it fixed. She was mad enough the last time it got broken.
Jack trudged over to the door. It may have been due to the frequent slamming, but now you had to jiggle the handle for the front door to latch. He began fiddling with the knob and pushing in the latch until it popped back out. He yawned, shut the door, turned around, and then—shrieked.
He hadn’t sounded like that since he was a little kid. He’d seen a lot in his life and thought he was beyond instant shock, but all of his training went out the window as he gawked at the pretty, nineteen year old woman standing in his living room wearing nothing but a towel.
“You squeal like a baby,” she laughed.
Jack’s mouth fell open.
She moved closer. “You got nothing to eat and—”
“What the hell?” Jack grabbed the unknown woman by the arm, and before she realized it, he pushed her out the front door into the hallway, slamming the door.
BANG! BANG! The walls shook. BANG!
Dammit! She must be slamming her whole body against the door.
Jack panicked when he thought about what would happen if someone found a young half-naked woman outside his apartment. When he yanked the door open, she charged headlong into the living room. Tripping, the towel flew off, and now she was naked sprawled out across the floor.
He heard loud stomping feet coming from down the hallway.
Oh no . . . just what I need.
He peeked out the door and saw his extraordinarily large landlady, storming down the corridor. She was dressed in her flannel nightgown and her face flushed bright red. He ducked back inside and locked the door. A few seconds later, the thuds came to an audible stop just outside.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
The young woman scrambled to her feet and wrapped the towel around herself. “You suck,” she growled as she shoved both hands into his chest.
Caught off guard, Jack staggered back from the blow, crashing into the wall.
“Mr. Stratton, what is going on in there?” Mrs. Stevens continued to beat on the door. “Was that a girl in the hallway?”
“What’s your problem?” the young woman demanded.
Jack was at a loss for words.
She shot an angry glare at him while his landlady huffed and puffed just outside the door.
“That’s it, Mr. Stratton. That is it! You’ll be evicted this time,” Mrs. Stevens threatened and stomped back down the hallway.
Jack stared at the young woman and tried to keep his eyes on her face as he held his hand sideways, attempting to block his view of everything else. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was dripping wet, but it was her piercing eyes that grabbed his full attention: emerald green with flecks of gold.
Jack blinked and tried to refocus. “Who are you and why are you in my apartment?”
She gawked at him as she adjusted the towel. “You don’t remember me? I’m Chandler’s sister.” She stood defiant before him.
Jack laughed. “Michelle is his sister.”
“So am I.” Her hands tightened into fists.
Jack opened then closed his mouth. There was a girl at the foster home . . . Jack remembered a young girl who’d worn her hair in a ponytail on top of her head and was always following Chandler and him around whenever he came back for a visit. He’d been adopted and moved out a few years before Aunt Haddie took her in.
She must have been ten or eleven. That would make her at least nineteen now.
“. . . Replacement?” He said her nickname out loud as he tried to reconcile his memories of her then with the young woman who stood before him now.
He could almost hear Chandler saying: “Leave it to my Aunt Haddie. We’re the only poor black family that goes and adopts a white kid.”
His pleasant recollection of his best friend faded when his memories changed.
Chandler’s dead. Died in Iraq.
He turned away.
Replacement just stood there, glaring at him.
Jack sighed, “Sorry.”
“Sure. Jerk,” she spat.
Her tone forced him to turn around. A pair of blazing eyes ripped into him.
“Wait a minute. Why—”
“Hold on.” She turned and went into the bedroom. “I’m getting dressed.” She slammed the door just as she finished her sentence.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. Now he had a headache.
Chandler had been his best friend since elementary school, but he could barely remember Replacement. Chandler and he were about to graduate high school when Aunt Haddie brought her home from church one day. Jack couldn’t recollect the whole story of why Chandler suggested the name or why Replacement preferred to be called that. It had something to do with her past but Jack couldn’t recall why. All he remembered was she loved it so much, the nickname stuck.
Jack was seventeen by then, but whenever he visited Aunt Haddie’s, Replacement followed him around like a lovesick puppy. Since he had lived with them for several years, he always viewed Chandler and Michelle like a real brother and sister, but with Replacement it was different. To Jack she was just one of the many other foster kids who came through the house after him.
Now she’s here. Why? Was something wrong with Aunt Haddie?
Haddie Williams had been Jack’s foster mother for four years before he was adopted. He could never forget the big black woman’s bright smile and sparkling eyes. She wasn’t his real aunt, whatever that meant. She’d taken him in when he was seven and loved him when he needed it most.
Jack walked over to the bedroom door and right before he was about to knock, it opened.
Replacement scowled and put her hands on her hips. Her hair was still damp, and she had on a green and white dress that was too long for her petite, five foot four frame.
She looks peeved but at least she’s decent.
Jack tried not to make a face. “Why are you here?”
“Aunt Haddie sent me. She said that you’d help.”
Guilt washed over him.
I knew it. I should have gone to see her. I’ve been back in the area for over six months now, but I hesitated. It’s been way too long.
“Aunt Haddie was your foster mother,” Replacement continued. “She took care of you and she needs your help now.” She st
uck her chin out.
Jack held his hands up. “I’ll try. What’s she need help with, kid?”
She stopped looking at him. Her eyes seemed to search the room behind him for answers as if she was trying to figure out how to deliver the news. “Michelle is gone. She’s missing.”
The words were like a kick in the gut. Michelle was his foster sister and friend. He was at Aunt Haddie’s when Chandler and Michelle had arrived. The three of them had quickly become inseparable, like the Three Musketeers. Even after Jack had moved to his new parents’ house, they’d stayed close.
He’d always felt guilty that he’d been adopted, but they never had been. Part of that was because they were actually brother and sister, and they refused to let anyone separate them. It was hard enough to place one older kid, but to place two kids into one home was nearly impossible.
He also knew that part of it was because they were black, and he was white. Jack hated that fact, but he could see it in the eyes of many of the couples who came by to adopt. Some beat around the bush, but you could tell they really wanted a little white kid.
Jack’s back stiffened. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
He took a step closer to her. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and his chest tightened.
“We haven’t heard from her in over two weeks. She got accepted at White Rocks College and then . . . I tried going up there, but when we went to the police . . .”
She was like an engine that revved too high then sputtered out. Her eyes were welling up with tears.
Jack’s heart pounded, and he forced himself to breathe. “Wait a second.” He held up a hand like he was directing traffic. “Michelle has to be . . . what twenty-four? Why was she going to White Rocks College?”
“She always wanted to go to college, but she couldn’t afford it. She got a work scholarship. It was her first year. She didn’t come home and—”
“Calm down. What day was she supposed to come home?” Jack coaxed.
“Four days before Christmas.”
“Okay. When you went to the police what did they tell you?”
“They investigated it and said she transferred to Western Tech out in California and just left. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just—go.” She threw her hands up. “She just started and had a full scholarship. Why would she leave?”
“Did she ever talk to you about transferring?”
Replacement stamped her foot. “She didn’t. After Chandler died, do you think she’d just take off to the other side of the country without telling anyone? Do you think she could do that to Aunt Haddie? Do you honestly think Michelle would just leave and not tell her?” Her eyes burned, and her voice trembled.
No way. Michelle was just like Chandler and to them family was everything. There had to be another reason.
“Why do you think I can help?”
There was a long pause as she stared at the floor. “Who says I do?” She raised her head, eyes blazing once more. “Aunt Haddie does. She says you’re a cop. She still thinks of you as family, and you were Chandler’s best friend, for whatever that’s worth.”
He let that slight go; he deserved it. “Who’s handling the case?”
Jack was a third-year deputy, and he’d transferred to Darrington a little over six months ago. Cops with a few years under their belt didn’t get missing person cases; they were the gophers for the detectives who did.
She thought for a minute. “Aunt Haddie filed a missing persons report in the Fairfield County’s sheriff’s office. Then they asked someone over here to look into her last known address. They said his name’s Daven . . . Davenport.”
Joe Davenport was a detective in Darrington. He had a few years to go until he retired and was coasting to the finish line. Joe wasn’t a bad guy, but he was far more interested in fishing than police work.
Still, it was a missing person case involving the college. He must have given it a solid going over.
“If Joe—”
“I knew it. I just knew it. You don’t care!” She pushed him again. “You don’t give a flying—”
“Shut up. Just shut up for a minute.” Now it was Jack’s turn to be irate. He towered over her when he stood at his full height. He put his face right down in hers. He wanted to intimidate her. “Now, you listen.”
Normally women didn’t tick him off even when they were screeching at him, but this one did.
Jack couldn’t believe it when she stuck her head forward, closer to his. Her lips were quivering, not out of fear, but fury. They stared at one another, nose to nose, like two prizefighters waiting for the bell.
He closed his eyes for a second, but he could still feel her glaring at him.
“I need to think. It’s two in the morning, the college is closed, and I just got home. I’m taking a shower.” He turned and walked to the bedroom. “We’ll talk when I’m out.”
Jack forced himself not to slam the door.
Chapter 3 ~
Drama Queen
He stood under the shower lost in the water. The giant hot water tank was the best thing about the apartment, and it was included in the rent. After it started to run ice cold, he shut the water off and got out. Steam filled the small bathroom, creating a mini sauna. Jack loved to take long showers and then linger in the mist.
“You suck.” Gina and Replacement's words rang in his ears. Twice in short order two girls had screamed that at him.
Problem is, they were right. What am I doing?
He vainly stared into the fogged mirror, but nothing stared back. Maybe that was his reflection. Misty. Shifting. Empty.
Jack ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt from the hamper. He hated putting on dirty clothes, but he’d only worn them around the house yesterday, and it beat going around in a towel with a girl in the living room.
What about Michelle? Gone? She wasn’t the type to run off. I know she’d never leave Aunt Haddie, but . . . maybe she just went out to California to check it out. She could have a boyfriend and took some time between classes. She’d be twenty-four now.
What if something had happened?
He hated pain and misery. He’d already had a lifetime of it, way more than his fair share. Thinking that someone else, especially Michelle, might be in danger right now tore him up inside.
Think about something else . . . anything else.
Mrs. Stevens was furious. She threatened to have me evicted. Not good. I’ll have to get an “I’m sorry” card, a box of chocolates, and a chocolate cake this time.
It had been a couple of months since his last appeasement present. Jack found food worked best. The time Gina threw the phone through the window it cost him $100 for the window and $30 for the phone, along with two all-you-can-eat buffet gift cards.
For a naked chick in the hallway, I’d better get her a gigantic cake.
He shook his head.
What about Gina? She’ll show up tomorrow and get all her stuff. After that . . . gone. Too many fights. Our relationship sucked anyway. We had nothing in common. And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried, but it’s a little hard to make a relationship work if the other person is in love with herself. Why don’t I just kick her out and send her packing? I never can, not with her, not with any of them. They all leave—but I never do.
He stood lingering at the bedroom door not wanting to go back into the living room. He didn’t want to fight anymore.
Jack exhaled and then opened the bedroom door. Replacement rushed forward. She must have been pacing as she waited for him. The second he stepped out, she was right back in his face. The forty minutes he spent in the shower didn’t seem to have calmed her down at all. If anything, it had the opposite effect. Her whole body was vibrating with anger.
“I have to let Aunt Haddie know. Are you going to help or not?” She planted her foot and stuck her finger right in his face.
He hesitated.
She took that as a sign. “I told her you didn’t care. If y
ou had cared about us, you’d have come back already. I told her you didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.” She moved forward until he could feel her breath on his face. “I saw the letters with those worthless excuses—after Iraq you had to go straight on to college. You couldn’t come for a visit? Not one holiday or summer? Yeah, right.” She stood with her feet apart and her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You’ve probably never even paid your respects at his grave. And then to find out you moved an hour away months ago, and you still haven’t visited or even called. That’s low. Really low.”
Jack would never hit a woman, but he found himself struggling to avoid making an exception. He was trying to control his right hand as it twitched at his side, but he couldn’t control the snarl.
“Kid, I’m going to help you look for Michelle, but if you say another word about Aunt Haddie or Chandler . . .”
The front door swung open, and Gina sashayed in. She looked up and then dropped her bags and her drink from the local convenience store. Soda went flying as her eyes moved from face to face.
“She's still here?”
Jack cocked an eyebrow.
Gina’s disdain turned to outrage. “You . . . you,” she stammered at Replacement. Gina took three long strides and glared at her.
Jack sighed. Yeah, this is gonna be good.
“You little slut, that’s my dress.” Gina’s bright red fingernail shook with anger as she jabbed Replacement in the midriff.
Jack took another look at the outfit Replacement wore. He leaned back and realized the green and white dress did look familiar. Gina raised her hand back, poised to slap, but Replacement swung fast and hard. Jack scooped Replacement aside just in time as the punch swished by Gina’s face. Even though the blow didn’t connect, Gina squealed and grabbed her cheek as if it had. Jack knew just the thought of something happening to her face was enough to terrify Gina. She shrieked again and staggered backward, her eyes filled with anger and fear.
Jack shook his head. Gina was a drama queen. He almost called 911 one day before he realized she’d only broken a nail.
If something actually had happened to her face, she’d have needed CPR.
“That’s it. Over,” Gina declared. “I mean it. I knew it when I gave you a ride home from that crappy bar.” Her mouth twisted into a snarl. “You’re pathetic. Oh, poor baby. You’re so sad. Poor Jack. He has mommy issues. I tried to help you, but you . . .”
Girl Jacked Page 2