The Debt Collector (Book 1 of a Jack Winchester Organized Crime Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series)

by Jon Mills

  “Opting to not press charges, when they were the ones who started it.” Dana shook her head.

  When they reached the rooms, the sheriff tore off a piece of legal paper from a pad inside a thin metal folder and went through a series of rudimentary questions: the description of the crime scene, who, what, where, and why. He finished by scribbling in Jack’s last known address, cell number, and personal details. Jack signed off on it and Grant filed it away.

  “Right, that should be it. If I have any further questions, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Frank,” Dana said.

  “Not a problem.” He extended his hand once again to Jack. “Well, Jack, I hope this unfortunate incident hasn’t put you off our small town. It really is a good location, full of good people.”

  As he turned to leave, he swiveled back around. “Oh, by the way, eh, how long are you staying?”

  “Until the end of the week.”

  Frank nodded, removed his hat, and slipped into the cruiser.

  Chapter 18

  TUESDAY. A couple of days passed without incident. He was still no closer to finding the money or learning what had happened to Matt Grant. Each time he brought up her husband, Dana would change the subject. His meeting with the sheriff had unnerved him. He’d expected the man to show up at the door any day now after learning about his time inside, but he never came. He notched it up to small town policing. Maybe it was to his advantage.

  Once the pain had subsided, Jack had planned on returning to his motel room for the remainder of his stay, but Dana wouldn’t have any of it. Maybe it was guilt or appreciation. His stay hadn’t exactly been smooth, but they didn’t owe him. Heck, if they really knew why he was there, they would have never let him into their house. Each day brought little time to search. Between Dana and Jason he was rarely left alone, and the few times he had been he’d focused on recovering. The past few days had allowed him to heal, observe, and learn their routine. If they were hiding Matt, eventually they’d screw up. Everyone did. A phone number on a pad of paper, a break in routine, or sneaking out for a late night rendezvous were just a few of the careless mistakes he looked for.

  For a time, people were good at hiding, laying low and covering their tracks—especially if they knew they would die. He was used to it.

  Collecting for Gafino had shown him the lengths that people would go to avoid paying or being caught. Plastic surgery, attempting to leave the country, and faking their own death were just a few of the extremes that people used to avoid staring down a gun barrel. Though usually it was easier than that. He’d once found a man hiding in a makeshift room, in the very house that his wife said he’d gone missing from two weeks prior. Behind a fake wall, they had a bed, television, and fridge. Had they insulated the room, maybe he wouldn’t have heard the man. No, collecting on debts was a game of patience. It was vital, and so was using the right bait.

  “You want me to do what?” Jason asked.

  “Punch me in the face.”

  “But I thought you were gonna show me how to kick some ass.”

  Jack snorted. “First you need to learn how to not get your ass kicked.”

  He could see Jason was hesitant. “I dunno about this, Jack.”

  After collecting Jason from school, Dana had gone into town to run a few errands. While Jack was keen to tag along, anything to keep a close eye on her comings and goings, he’d agreed to keep an eye on Jason in the slim chance the bikers returned. Jack thought he’d use this time to try and bond with the kid. He couldn’t afford to waste time, but without their trust, he’d be at a dead end. The pair had spent the past hour in the forest, shooting off a few rounds. Jack wasn’t keen on the kid playing around with guns, but he thought it was better he knew how to safely handle them than to just come down on him hard over having a natural curiosity. He’d asked him if their neighbors had ever called the cops on them because the sound of shooting. Jason was adamant that it had never happened, since they lived too far from the closest neighbor.

  “Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves or something?”

  “You won’t need them.”

  Apollo curiously looked on as Jack agreed to show Jason a few moves. Above, the sky was as clear as glass; they could only hear the sound of the forest around them and the running stream in the distance.

  “Are you going to fight back?”

  “No, you’re just gonna try and punch me in the face.”

  “Okay, but you gotta promise me—when I knock you on your ass, you won’t go nuclear on me.”

  Jack laughed. “Okay, kid.”

  The following few minutes, Jack bobbed and weaved as Jason threw jabs and hooks at him. Despite his fragile appearance, the kid had stamina. But, like anyone, he eventually ran out of steam.

  “Damn, you are fast.”

  Jason hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

  “You see how I didn’t ask you to stop? You stopped because you got tired. Remember, most guys in a brawl will miss shots because they’re tired.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Of course not. But you’ve got to know the basics of how to not get hit. Understand?”

  Over the following half an hour, Jack led him through the process, tightening up his ability to weave. By the time they were done, sweat poured off the two of them.

  “You want a drink?”

  “Sure,” Jack replied, turning on the house tap outside for Apollo to lap at.

  When Jason returned, he handed him a beer. He was holding one himself.

  “You’re a little young to be drinking?”

  He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure you were drinking lemonade at fifteen.”

  Jack shook his head, amused. Jason leaned back in a wicker chair and stared at the burned remains in the fire pit.

  “So you never told me why those kids were hounding you.” Jack lit up a cigarette.

  “Besides the obvious? They’re jerks. You think I can have one?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Does your mum know?”

  “About them?”

  “No, you smoking.”

  “Are you kidding? She’d ground my ass for weeks. Now can I get one?”

  Beads of water trickled down the side of the beer bottle as Jack took a swig. When Jason saw that he wasn’t going to get it, he continued.

  “There’s a girl.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Chloe. She used to date the meat suit you caught pounding me.” He paused to take a drink. “Once she was available, I asked her out.”

  Jack snorted. “And he didn’t like it.”

  “Exactly. That, and maybe because Kyle still hasn’t got over me gluing his pants to his seat back in fifth grade.”

  “That would do it.”

  “What about you?” Jason asked.

  “Women?”

  “No, I mean, have you ever been unable to fight back?” he paused. “I saw those scars.”

  Jack eyed him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was about to reply when the sound of a vehicle pulling up caused Jason to jump to his feet.

  “Shoot. Here,” he passed off his unfinished beer to him and headed in the direction of the house. “Let’s finish this later.”

  Jack gave a nod. Apollo lifted his head and blinked before returning to basking in the late afternoon sun.

  “So you are telling me you had nothing to do with it?”

  Jack leaned against the back door, wondering if he should be listening in on the phone call. Uncomfortable, he was about to leave when Dana noticed him and raised a finger.

  “I understand, Sheila, but we had an agreement.”

  Her eyebrows suddenly rose. Whatever they were talking about, the expression on her face said it all.

  “You too.”

  She put the phone down and let out a deep sigh.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Paradise? I wish. Do you want to go for drinks tonight?”

  He was now the one raising an eyebrow. She b
egan emptying out canned goods from a grocery bag.

  “That is…” She stumbled over her words. “Well, unless you don’t—”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure?”

  “Why not?” he replied.

  “I’ll tell you why not.” Jason interrupted. “Three words. Who’s. Cooking. Dinner?”

  She scoffed. “I think you are old enough, young man, to whip up something for yourself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Be creative. One night won’t kill you.”

  Jason heaved a few green grapes in his hand and tossed one into his mouth before hopping up on to the side.

  “So what is this? A date?” he mumbled, wrestling a few more grapes around in his mouth.

  Dana slung him a look indicating that whatever avenue he was planning to head down with that conversation he wasn’t going to go any further if he knew what was good for him.

  “I think you’ve said enough.” Dana thumbed him out of the room.

  A look of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Jason smirked, leaving the room. Dana glanced back at Jack, continuing to unload another bag. He figured what was going through her mind.

  “Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m asking you. I just need to get out and forget for one night that I own a motel that is a sinking ship.”

  “No, I get it. What was that heated phone call about?”

  She shot him a hesitant look before responding.

  “Forget that, I—”

  “No, it’s okay.” She shrugged. “A large group was supposed to be staying here; it seems they got wind of that little incident with the bikers and decided to book elsewhere.”

  Jack groaned, sucking air between his teeth.

  “Yeah. Well, maybe it’s for the best. All those old folks can get super demanding,” she said, closing an overhead cabinet.

  “Maybe.” He forced a smile.

  “Look, I’m gonna go clean up. We’ll head out in about an hour. Does that sound okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a few things to do.”

  As she disappeared upstairs, Jack stepped out onto the back porch and made a phone call to the East Star Behavioral Treatment Center. His mind had been awash with thoughts of his sister being harmed, which had plagued his mind since leaving Manhattan. He knew she wasn’t safe there, but with little money to set her up elsewhere, he didn’t have much choice. Then there was, of course, the small fact that any change in her daily routine was liable to set off alarm bells with Gafino. He’d be watching her; that Jack knew for sure. The last thing he needed was to make him think he wasn’t going to complete the job. No, everything had to remain the same. But that didn’t alleviate the worry. Instead, he’d made arrangements with an old friend before heading to Rockland Cove.

  Eddie Carmine was the only one he trusted, the only one who had stayed clear of crime. He was an old friend of his mother’s; some even believed he was Jack’s real father. Like any good father, he had warned him countless times about running with Gafino.

  He was an ex-marine turned blue collar worker, who could have used his unique skills in service to Gafino or anyone of the crime syndicate, but he chose to spend his years after getting out of the military working at a local factory that manufactured car parts. He was the kind of man who rose early and returned home late. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. Never once was he late for work. Nor did he drive. Everything about him was precise. He lived a life of principles gained from his years working for Uncle Sam.

  When things got too hot at home as a youngster, and before Gafino took him under his wing, Eddie’s place was his retreat. He felt safe there. Eddie always left a key under the doormat, and allowed him to come and go as he pleased. He’d had many a meal at Eddie’s home. Had it not been for him, Jack would have gone hungry some nights. Jack thought back to those winning nights when his father and his old lady would drink themselves into a drunken stupor. Those were the worst. He owed a lot to Eddie, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw him as the father he’d never had. Maybe that was why he felt he could trust him.

  Eddie’s was where he had learned how to protect himself.

  First it was just a few things, then it became routine.

  After getting off the phone with the center, he dialed his friend’s number.

  “You know, you’re going to give your mind whiplash if you continue phoning me. She’s okay, Jack.”

  “I know. Anyone shown up?”

  “No. How’s it going up where you are?”

  “Slow. But I’m getting there. I think.”

  Eddie sighed on the other end of the phone. “When this is over, Jack. You owe me a beer.”

  “Cheap debt.”

  Eddie chuckled on the other end. “Stay safe, kid.”

  “You too.”

  After he got off the phone, he stepped back into the kitchen. Jason was downing a tall glass of lemonade.

  “Hey, so I tried those series of jabs you taught me on the bag downstairs. Is it meant to hurt this much?”

  Jack glanced at Jason’s knuckles and frowned. They were red, and raw.

  “How many punches did you throw?”

  “Five, maybe ten?”

  Jack’s eyebrow raised.

  “Maybe I’m hitting it wrong?”

  Every boxer suffered from bruised knuckles when they started out, but not from a few punches.

  “Show me,” Jack replied.

  Jason led the way, but before they had made it a few steps down toward the basement, Dana called out.

  “Jack, if you want to use the shower, it’s free now.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Right. I nearly forgot. Show me later, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, and leave the bag for now. Put some ice on those knuckles.”

  Chapter 19

  THE BUSY BEAN was a café typical of most small coastal towns, relaxed, easygoing, and packed to the walls with visitors. Located on the corner of one of the busiest intersections downtown, it had a small breakfast bar that ran alongside two large windows; each one bathed the L-shaped café in plenty of light by day. In the evenings, small overhead pot lights and modern armchairs gave the whole place a comfortable, upscale feel. Half a dozen round tables dotted the space inside. It was popular among the locals, and anyone visiting from out of town. Most prominently displayed on the front door window were several certificates that detailed awards the establishment had won since opening. It was her claim to fame, Sophie would say. Magazines had recommended it as one of the best places to get coffee on the east coast.

  Mellow jazz music played lightly in the background as they entered. There were very few days that Sophie didn’t work. It wasn’t that she didn’t make enough money; she just enjoyed being at the center of the town’s gossip. Here, she could overhear all manners of conversations. People didn’t visit the local bar in the town to unload their woes; they visited The Busy Bean. Sophie was in many ways like Dear Agony Aunt, a column for relationship advice and a hub for general pearls of wisdom.

  No, unlike Dana, her business had only grown in leaps and bounds since day one. Several times she’d offered Dana a job working there. It was tempting to get out from underneath the stress of running her own business; clocking in at nine and leaving at five without any of the worries of day-to-day business would have been a welcome relief. But she wasn’t one for taking the easy way out. No, she would get the motel sold first, then take some time to decide what path to take next.

  As much as she loved Sophie, even she needed a break from her frequent rants about townsfolk, and more specifically men.

  Before Patrick, she had been through a whole line of men. Fat, thin, balding, and even one who wore a wig—something Sofie had only discovered when a waiter had accidently latched onto it when leaning in to recommend the dish of the day. To say she had been horrified would have been to put it mildly. Dana still laughed every time she recounted that night.

  Yes, according to Sophie, she had become a connoiss
eur of the male specimen. Having dated most of the men in Rockland Cove, some would have called her something other than a connoisseur. Dana simply kept her mouth shut when Sophie broke into her usual spiel about having perfected the art of wading through the dross to discover the gems.

  Patrick had all the makings of a gem, if he could just perfect his work ethic and finish work on the motel roof.

  “Dana!” Sophie waved erratically at them before turning to one of her waitresses to whisper. No doubt she was creating new rumors about Jack, who followed close behind. Sophie was harmless, but she did have a knack of getting herself into trouble.

  Sophie double-timed it around the counter, bellowing a few orders to her staff to clear a table in the corner for them. As if she had blinders on, she darted past Dana and extended her hand to Jack.

  “Ah, the mystery man who Dana has been talking nonstop about. I’m so glad we have a face for the name.”

  “Nonstop, eh?” Jack smirked, shooting a quick glance at Dana who mouthed the word, sorry.

  “Well, let’s get you two love birds…I mean, two lovely…” she trailed off, leading them over to a table as Dana glared at her.

  “Quite the spark,” Jack said.

  “Sorry about her; she’s a bit of a wild card.”

  As they took a seat, Sophie buzzed around them like a bee collecting pollen.

  “Okay, so what can I get you?”

  “Well, we are going eat out, so—”

  “My establishment not good enough?” She smiled. “I’m joking.”

  “Just coffee, maybe a little desert. The chocolate cheesecake.”

  “You got it.” She zipped away.

  “Desert before your meal. I like that,” Jack said.

  “I always think we leave the best things for last. I mean, let’s face it; you eat your supper and then have desert. But by that point you’re so darn full you can barely shovel in a few mouthfuls, and yet that’s the best part of the meal.”

  Jack chuckled to himself. Dana traced her finger around the rim of her glass.

  “Earlier. When I asked about your sister.”

  Jack’s eyes dropped.