Girl Jacked

by Christopher Greyson

  Jack had to force himself to put the phone down on the counter and not out the window.

  Later that afternoon Jack stood in the police parking lot again. He was still on the nightshift, four to midnight. He shrugged.

  At least getting hit by the car got me off traffic duty.

  Jack’s anger and frustration vanished for a moment when he saw the Charger was all his. He slid behind the wheel. When he turned it over, the engine purred like it was glad to see him again.

  He had the freedom to patrol where he wanted, within boundaries, and he let those boundaries bring him out of town and close to the college. He needed to clear his head. He needed speed.

  He drummed the steering wheel as he waited to reach the back roads and open the Charger up.

  “Ten-ten in progress at WRE,” the dispatcher’s voice said over the radio.

  Jack heard the location and jumped for the radio.

  “This is car sixty-eight. I’m North on Piedmont crossing Bridge Street.”

  “Ten-four car sixty-eight. The location is Two Jefferson Avenue.”

  Jack hit the lights and sirens and punched it.

  Two Jefferson Avenue was the address for The Pit, the campus bar at White Rocks. He settled back in the seat as adrenaline flowed along with the gas. He kept his foot down, and the Charger roared its approval.

  Two campus police cars were parked outside The Pit, and a large crowd was already forming.

  The Pit was in the basement of an old administration building the college had converted into a bar. As he walked up, it looked like they’d set up some type of temporary triage at the picnic table outside. A couple of guys held bloody towels to their heads, and people were chattering to them as Jack passed.

  Chad Tucker, one of the campus cops, was standing in the doorway shaking his head. He was busy trying to hold back Milton Anderson, another campus cop. Milton’s nose was bloody, and he held a towel to his face.

  “Chad, Milton, what’s going on?” Jack inquired.

  “Inside.” Chad motioned with his head. “We got two guys with cuts and another one who may never have kids if you know what I mean.” He adjusted himself.

  “What happened to you, Milton?” Jack looked at the tall, thin man who was trying to hold his head back to stop his bleeding nose.

  “The psycho hit me in the face when I went to break up the fight.” The towel muffled his voice.

  “Show me who.” Jack motioned to Chad.

  Chad led the way but stopped at the door. Jack pushed by him as he descended the stairs and opened the front door. The Pit was never much on looks, but you could tell a good fight had taken place. Tables were overturned and in one corner, glass littered the floor.

  Chad followed him in. “Careful, Jack. She doesn’t look tough, but she’s dangerous,” he whispered.

  “She?” Jack turned to look at him. “A girl did this?”

  “Shh.” Chad’s eyes went wide, and he pointed as he moved behind Jack.

  I’m so glad they don’t give them guns.

  Jack turned, and observed the girl who sat at the end of the bar facing away from them.

  She’s like five foot tall and a hundred pounds.

  Jack shook his head as he walked closer. Chad followed just behind him.

  “Excuse me, miss?” Jack held his hands out with the palms up.

  The girl swung around on the stool. Jack gasped and stepped back on Chad’s foot.

  “Yes, sir?” Replacement said as her face contorted.

  Jack just stood there with his mouth open.

  Replacement was trying to convey something, but the sight of her had thrown him so he struggled to respond.

  “Chad, I’ve got this. Go check on Milton,” Jack ordered without turning around.

  “You sure?”

  Jack turned to glare at Chad who quickly headed toward the door.

  Replacement watched the campus cop walk away. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered.

  “Don’t say anything? What the hell are you doing? Did you kick the crap out of—”

  “Shh, I’m undercover.”

  “You’re . . . undercover? What the . . .?” Jack stammered.

  Milton and Chad walked in.

  “How come she’s not in cuffs?” Milton demanded as he glared at Replacement.

  Damn.

  “Once I ascertain . . . what happened to this poor girl—”

  “Poor girl?” Milton said. “I think she broke my nose.”

  Replacement let out an enormous wail and covered her face sobbing. “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of them . . . one of the men who attacked me,” she bawled.

  “Attacked you?” Jack moved forward, anger now on his face. Replacement was hamming it up, but something had happened to her.

  “Ken put something in my drink. Him and his friends.” There was real anger and disgust on her face.

  She’d never make that up about someone to get out of a bad situation.

  “Bring them in but keep them separate.” Jack demanded to Milton and Chad. “I’m speaking with the girl first.” He took Replacement by the arm and led her across the large dance floor into a backroom.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered.

  “I told you, I’m undercover.” She glared back.

  “Well your cover is blown. What happened?”

  “It’s not blown. They don’t know who I am.” She crossed her arms and huffed. “I went to go talk to this guy, and Ken put something in my drink. It freaked me out.”

  “How do you know? Did you drink it?”

  “I saw him do it, and he told me.” She stamped her foot.

  “What do you mean he told you?”

  “We were over in that corner. I came back from the bathroom, and I saw Ken put something in my drink, and when I confronted him, he had the nerve to say, ‘I just put in a little something to help you relax.’” Her hands turned into fists. “So I punched him in the face. Then his friends came up and tried to grab me, and I had the glass in my hand, so I whacked one with it.”

  Replacement was now acting it out. “The guy behind me had both my arms, but I pulled one free and he pushed me into the table. There was a beer bottle on it, so I grabbed it and hit him like this.” She was relishing the moment as she mimed smashing a guy in the head with the bottle. “It didn’t break, but he sure did scream.”

  Jack cringed. “What happened to Milton?”

  “Who?”

  “The campus police officer whose nose you broke.”

  “It’s his fault. He snuck up behind me, grabbed me, and said, ‘Settle down girlie.’ He didn’t say he was a cop, and I didn’t know until after I elbowed him in the face.” She shrugged.

  “Replacement . . .”

  “Alexis.” She corrected him.

  “Who?”

  “That’s me.” She smiled and pointed at herself. “My undercover name, Alexis Holmes.”

  “Will you forget about that for now? You’re not undercover.”

  Jack walked her back into the bar and sat her at a table. Then he motioned for one of the guys. A tall man, around twenty, with a bloody towel pressed to his head walked forward.

  He led the man into the backroom. Jack’s face was hard as he shoved him into a chair.

  “ID?” Jack waited for him to hand it to him.

  Dillon Cole, twenty-one.

  “Were you the guy that grabbed her from behind or came at her from the front?” Jack took out his notepad.

  “What?” Dillon leaned forward. “No, you don’t understand. I saw Ken get punched in the face, and I came over, and she hit me in the head with a drink.”

  “Listen, Dillon.” Jack leaned in too. “What we have here is an underage girl who says you were part of a group of guys who tried to drug her.”

  His eyes went wide and his mouth flopped open. “I didn’t know she was underage, and I had no idea Ken was going to do something like that. Honest. I wasn’t even near him.”

  �
�Do you have any drugs?”

  “No, nothing.” He stood up and began turning out his pockets.

  “Did you see any of the other guys with drugs?”

  Dillon nodded. “Ken said he got some Ecstasy or something to impress Alexis. She asked me if I had some drugs, but I don’t do drugs. I don’t even know where to get any. Honest.”

  Jack turned and called, “Chad?”

  The young officer’s head appeared.

  “Stick this guy in the corner and send the next one in.”

  Another student walked in and slumped forward in the chair. Paul Denning, age twenty-two. Jack could see the bump on his head through the towel. The cut was small, but the bump was a whopping goose egg.

  It might have been better for him if the bottle had broken, and he didn’t get clubbed.

  Paul’s story matched Dillon’s. Jack shook his head, pointed to the door, and waited for the final kid.

  After a couple of minutes, Chad and Milton appeared. They were helping a guy in obvious pain through the door.

  “Is this Ken?” Jack asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Sit him down,” Jack ordered. “Everyone else clear out.”

  Jack looked down at his license.

  Ken Fenton, twenty-one.

  “What’s your version of the events, Ken?”

  “I met that crazy bit—” the look on Jack’s face made him stop. “I was having a drink with Alexis, and she freaked out and smashed me in the face.”

  “Was this before or after you put drugs in her drink?” Jack’s voice was as cold as his darkening eyes.

  “What? I, I don’t know . . .”

  Jack put his face inches away from Ken’s and glared. Jack didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. His eyes smoldered.

  “It was Ecstasy. I asked. I asked her.” Ken leaned away from Jack.

  “You asked her?”

  “I swear. I did. I told her it was in there.”

  “Why?”

  “She wanted it.”

  “What did you say? You’re saying she wanted you to drug her?” Jack grabbed the arms of the chair and shook it hard again. Ken’s face contorted in pain.

  “Crystal,” he whined. “She kept asking for meth. I didn’t know where to get any, but she was real insistent. I asked around, and this guy had some Ecstasy. I wanted to impress her. Before she went to the bathroom she asked me if I could find some drugs. She said she wanted some. I just wanted to surprise her, so I put it in her drink. She must have seen me do it and misunderstood. I just wanted her to have fun and relax.” Ken was on the verge of breaking down now.

  Jack just glowered.

  “Who was it that sold you the Ecstasy?”

  “I don’t really know him. I have seen him around campus. I think his name is Lennie.”

  “Lennie Jacobsen?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “When did you see him before?”

  “Just around the school. He was in one of my computer classes. He’s a little weird.”

  “What do you mean weird?”

  “I mean that he doesn’t look like a typical student. He’s Goth and has long black hair.”

  “Can you point him out to me?” Jack gestured toward the door.

  “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s gone. When I was outside and heard everyone start moaning that the cops were here I saw him hop in a car and take off.”

  “What did the car looked like?”

  “It was silver.”

  “Do you know what kind of car it was?”

  “No, no clue.”

  “What was Lennie wearing?”

  “A black hooded sweatshirt and black jeans.” Ken shifted in the chair.

  “When did you get hit in the groin?” Jack asked as he tried to think of how to control this.

  “After she hit Paul with the bottle she walked over and kept kicking me.”

  “All right, go sit back there in the corner.”

  Jack walked back out and waved Replacement over.

  “Listen to me, okay?” Jack hoped his tone conveyed the gravity of the situation. “Ken in there said you asked him to score meth for you. True or not true?”

  She gave him a duh look: “I’m trying to find out how Michelle got meth in her system. I figure someone must have slipped it to her. If I can find out who—”

  “So that’s true.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Jack held up a hand. “Listen. If I take him in, it will come out that you asked him and the other boys for drugs and it’s going to turn into a he said/she said. Then your whole impersonating someone else is going to come out.”

  And I have to waste time on this when I have a solid lead to hunt down.

  “But—”

  “I think this whole thing was one misunderstanding after another, so do you really want me to arrest him?”

  She scrunched up her face. “I guess not if it blows my cover. And I doubt he’ll ever do it again.” She grinned.

  “Your cover? Get that smile off your face. You beat the snot out of three guys and broke Milton’s nose. I have to figure out how not to arrest you.”

  Jack walked her back out and looked at the three students and two campus policemen.

  “Don’t say anything.” Jack whispered as he brought her back. “But cry . . .” She started to wail, so Jack quickly added, “. . . a little. Cry a little.”

  Jack sat Replacement at a table in the middle of the room. He motioned for Milton and Chad to bring the boys over to the table.

  “Milton, Chad, I’m going to try to contain this for your sake.”

  “Ours?” They both looked at each other.

  “Right now I have an underage girl in your college bar accusing one of your students of providing her with illegal drugs, and she’s alleging that you manhandled her and didn’t disclose you were law enforcement.” He raised an eyebrow toward Milton.

  Milton looked away muttering.

  “But if it was all just a misunderstanding and no illegal drugs were visible,” he glanced around the room, “then I’d be fine considering this just a mix-up. Unless of course you want me to file a report that she…” He pointed over to Replacement who was still pretending to cry. “…gave you a bloody nose.” He looked again at Milton. “And beat up the three of you.” He glanced at the boys now. “We would then have to close the bar down indefinitely and then we will have to go through every drink here to determine if there were…” He looked at Ken. “…any drugs on the premises. And that would lead to other charges.”

  The boys and Milton’s face turned different shades of crimson.

  “So I believe this situation was due to ‘misinterpretation’ and may best be handled as a White Rocks matter.” Jack exhaled as everyone relaxed at his words. “That’s if no one requires medical attention?”

  All of the students shook their heads and Chad chuckled under his breath. “We’ll take it from here, Officer. Everyone is fine. It was a misunderstanding that will be addressed.” Chad saluted Jack until Milton yanked the young man’s hand down.

  “Don’t salute him, you twit,” Milton snarled. “Yeah, we got it.”

  Everyone started moving toward the door.

  Jack walked out to the car, shaking his head. He needed to speak with Replacement, but it would have to wait. “Undercover?” he muttered to himself as his anger rose with each step.

  What was she thinking?

  As he started the car, the image of her in the coffin flashed in his head.

  Wait until she gets home.

  Jack spent the next couple of hours vainly driving around the campus looking for the silver car and Lennie Jacobsen.

  Chapter 35 ~

  Stupid but Brilliant

  Jack paced the floor and glanced at the clock. Twelve forty.

  “Why isn’t she home?” he muttered.

  He stormed over to the window, yanked the curtain back and glared into the darkness. He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

>   When he reached in his jacket pocket, he stopped. He jammed his hand in the other pocket. With a snarl, he ripped his jacket off and beat it on the floor.

  She has my car. I had to get a ride home from Donald.

  Keys jingled in the lock, and he froze. The door slowly opened, and Replacement peered in.

  “Get in . . . NOW,” Jack’s voice rumbled.

  “I’m sorry.” She stopped halfway in and held onto the doorknob.

  “Get in here.”

  “You’re mad.” She came in with her head down and shut the door.

  “No. I’m way beyond mad. They need to come up with a new word for just how angry I am.” He stalked forward.

  “I had to.” Her head snapped up, and she glared at him.

  It was exactly the wrong way to handle Jack at that moment.

  He exploded forward, and his hand slammed into the doorframe to stop himself. Wood cracked.

  “Three people are dead. Three. You’re hunting a monster, yet you don’t have a clue. Are you that stupid? Do you have any idea what Chandler would say to you?”

  She burst into tears and shook her head. “No,” she whispered and huddled against the door.

  “He’d tell you that you were out of your mind for what you just did. If it was any other cop, they would have arrested you. You assaulted a police officer. You solicited drugs. Do you know what Chandler would say? He’d say just what I’m saying.”

  Jack was towering over her, and she slid down the wall and pulled her legs up. She was sobbing.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Chandler never yelled at me.”

  Jack turned and took four steps away. “Don’t. Don’t turn this around on me. I’m not Chandler. He would . . . he’d handle it. I don’t know what he would have done.” He stormed over to the bedroom. “Don’t leave the apartment EVER AGAIN,” he yelled and slammed the door.

  After tossing and turning for two hours, Jack opened the bedroom door. Replacement was asleep on the couch, curled up in a ball. The comforter had fallen off onto the floor. He picked it up and glared down at her. He fanned the comforter out and gently laid it over her.

  Replacement’s eyes fluttered open, and she sat up.

  “Jack, I’m so sorry.” She gathered the comforter tightly around her.