JACK AND THE GIANT KILLER

by Christopher Greyson

  “Why’d O’Rourke do that?” Replacement asked. “I mean, he stabbed himself in the stomach.”

  “Castillo found out they had layoffs last month at the company O’Rourke worked for. They were going to have another round of layoffs this week. His manager said O’Rourke’s name was on the list. Maybe that was the motive. Maybe he just wanted his fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “Why’s the real killer doing it?” Replacement put her chin in her hands.

  “He gets something from the kill. It could be the adrenaline rush or a sense of power, but he gets off on it. I wonder if the method is part of that.”

  “What?”

  “Why’s he using a knife? And why let them live for a little while?”

  Replacement shuddered. “I hate thinking about it.”

  “Me too, but I need to get in his head. He hung Freeman after he stabbed him. He wanted to send a message, but he didn’t with the others. Let’s just say he killed the three missing men.”

  “They disappeared.” Replacement looked up at the ceiling.

  “No, they didn’t. The killer took them. He took Daniel. He’d have taken Ray if his wife hadn’t come out.” Jack walked over to the corner and squatted down next to Lady. She raised her head and rubbed her muzzle against his thigh, while he scratched behind her ear.

  “Maybe he has something against something bigger than him. Or something that scares him,” Replacement said. “Maybe he’s a little guy.”

  Jack clicked his tongue. “No. He’s a strong guy.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Freeman. He had to weigh two eighty. The killer moved his body to that sign and then hoisted him into the air. The killer’s strong. It’s only one guy, too. Ray’s wife heard only one door close.”

  “Maybe he’s big then. So he’s not just killing giants; he’s a giant killer.” Replacement rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb as she looked up at Jack. “Please be careful.”

  Jack put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, kid. It’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

  Replacement turned back to the monitor. “Do you think the guy could just stop?”

  Jack shook his head. “Serial killers don’t stop. Something stops them. They get caught or die.” Jack put both hands behind his head. “Same thing with serial anything. Child molesters are the same way, too. They don’t just quit.”

  Lady got up and trotted over to nudge Replacement’s leg. The whole chair moved with her in it. Replacement stroked her back.

  “Next to you, Lady looks even bigger.” Jack smiled, but it quickly faded. “Can you pull up Ray Davis’s Facebook page?”

  “Sure.” Replacement sat upright and moved the mouse. “What did you think of?”

  “A picture of Ray and his wife.” He scanned the gallery of pictures until it came up. “That one.”

  “They’re painting a doghouse.”

  “But it’s a huge dog house. I didn’t realize how big because they’re both so tall.”

  Replacement peered closer. “That’s big.”

  “Have you seen any pictures with a dog?” Jack asked.

  “No, but they basically froze the pages as they were when Ray died. Let me look at the other family members’ pages.”

  “You can see their pages?”

  “I friended them.” Her smile thinned out. “I also donated a little money. Ray didn’t have much insurance, and April has the kids, and she takes care of Ray’s mother and—”

  Jack kissed her head. “That’s fine, kid.”

  Replacement clicked through websites until her finger jutted out at the screen. “Bingo! Big dog.”

  “I’ll say. Great Dane, right?”

  Replacement nodded. “That’s another connection.”

  “Can you email Castillo and Morrison?” Jack asked. “We need to look at the three missing persons and see if they had dogs.”

  Her fingers zinged across the keyboard as she typed the email. “Got it.” She let out an enormous yawn. “I’ll run some more comparisons on the databases and see if there’s some connection I’m just not seeing.”

  Jack rolled his neck and looked at the clock: 9:40 p.m. They’d been going over the reports all day and his stomach grumbled loudly. He walked into the kitchen and opened cabinets.

  “Are you hungry?” Replacement’s voice was soft.

  Jack stopped his search and hurried over to her. “Are you okay?” He lifted up her chin and saw her fighting back tears.

  She sniffed and nodded her head. “This just gets me upset. I want to make you something. Go take a shower first.”

  “I’m good.” He squatted down and looked in her eyes. “We can stop.”

  “We’ll take a break. Go take a shower. Please?” She kissed his cheek.

  “You don’t have to ask me three times.”

  “Take your time.”

  As he headed for the bathroom, Lady got up and trotted after him. He held the bathroom door open for her, and she happily stretched out on the floor and looked up expectantly.

  “You’d think with all that thick fur you’d hate a sauna.” Jack shook his head as he shut the door.

  Every time he took a shower, Lady came in and lay on the floor. She looked as if she loved it. Jack turned on the hot water and watched the mirror as it fogged up.

  I need to get with Morrison. The ME reports should be done tomorrow. I can swing over there after…

  Jack combed his hair and watched his reflection disappear into the fogging mirror. He planned to see his mother at the asylum tomorrow. It was a long ride, and he didn’t have the time, but Doctor Jamison said she was making improvements and part of that was due to Jack’s visits.

  He got into the shower as his thoughts scattered like the water streams shattering off his chest. Jack turned his face up into the spray.

  I have to go. She’s looking forward to it. I don’t know if I should take Replacement. She’s been off. Is it the whole dating thing? Money? Jack hung his head. We’re hunting a serial killer, looking at crime-scene photos and reports all day, and I’m not sure why she’s a little out of sorts? It’s probably just that.

  He wanted to stay in the shower for an hour but finally shut off the water. Lady whined.

  “You can stay in here, you big baby.” Jack laughed as he toweled off.

  He threw on some sweats and a T-shirt and then opened the bedroom door. Replacement was hunched over the keyboard, clicking frantically. Jack’s stomach growled, and he headed for the kitchen.

  “I’m going to throw some pasta on,” he called over to her. Even from this distance, he saw her suddenly closing the windows she had open one by one. “Angel hair or bowtie?”

  Replacement put her head in her hands. Jack set the pot down on the counter and walked over to her. She went to get up, but he put his large hands on her shoulders and started to rub. She didn’t look up. He saw her reflection in the monitor, and she kept her eyes closed.

  “Talk to me,” Jack whispered. She reached up and put a hand on his. “I know something’s been bothering you.” He leaned closer. “If you tell me what it is, I can help.”

  He smiled. She didn’t.

  Her eyes squeezed tighter shut. “I’m not feeling well.” She patted his hand. “I’m going to go to bed.”

  This is bad.

  Jack stood back as she stood up. “I’ll make you up a plate and—”

  “No. No thank you.” She walked over to her bedroom. “Will you take the dog out?”

  “Yeah. Are you sure I can’t get you something?”

  She shook her head, walked into her bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Night Terrors

  Jack rolled over and looked at the clock: 5:43 a.m. He’d stared at the ceiling all night and didn’t have any answers about Replacement or the killer. He folded his hands behind his head. He’d spent more time thinking about her than him. He couldn’t wait for her to
get up but also dreaded it. He had no idea what to do for her.

  Lady’s head shot up, and Jack rolled over to look at her. The dog scrambled to her feet and then hurried to the door. Jack listened, and he heard Replacement scream.

  Flying out of bed, he ripped open the door. He instinctively scanned the living room as he dashed for her door. Replacement screamed again, and Jack barreled through her bedroom door. Replacement sat bolt upright in bed with a look of sheer terror on her face. Her eyes were wide open and her arms were straight down at her sides. Over and over, she screamed.

  Jack frantically looked around the empty room. He rushed to her side, but she kept looking straight ahead and shrieking. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She cried out.

  Night terrors.

  He remembered Michelle had gotten them when she was little. They were nightmares she couldn’t break out of. That was something Jack knew all too well.

  “Alice. I’m right here.” Jack held onto her.

  She shrieked so loudly that Lady winced. Jack pulled her closer. Replacement screamed again, and then gasped for air and closed her eyes. Her hands fumbled for him, and she buried her face in his neck.

  “Shh,” he whispered as he leaned his head against hers. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

  She whimpered and started to cry. Her hands tightened around him and he felt her go rigid. Jack had already felt the dampness of her sheets, but she must have realized what happened. He stroked her hair, and she shook.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Shh.”

  “Let me go. I need the shower. Let me go.” She pulled a blanket around herself, and Jack slid out of the way.

  Replacement ran, crying, into the bathroom. Jack followed after her but stopped at the closed door. His hand hovered in the air as he stopped himself from knocking. As he looked down at Lady, who stood next to him, he knew he had to do something.

  Jack rushed to the hall closet. He grabbed towels, a blanket, and a set of sheets and then hurried into her bedroom. After he tossed the bedding in the corner, he dried the mattress with the towels. He dashed back to the kitchen and gathered up the laundry detergent, some spray, and some vinegar. He sprayed the mattress, flipped it over, and put fresh sheets and blankets on.

  He ran back into his bedroom and pulled on a shirt and then slipped on his shoes. In the living room, he snagged a handful of quarters from the change jar and headed for the first floor. There were two washers and dryers in the little room at the end of the first floor that served as the building’s Laundromat. He started both and then hurried back up the stairs. He stood, panting, in the living room, trying to think of what to do next when he heard the shower shut off. After a few minutes, Replacement walked out of his room with her head down. Wrapped in her robe, she clutched it tightly around her body as she fled past him.

  Jack moved out of her way. He wanted more than anything to grab her and hold her close—to tell her everything was going to be fine. He didn’t know why she hurt, but he knew the pain. He was all too familiar with pain that burned so hot it short-circuited your head. The kind of pain that made you lash out at the people you loved. Pain that woke you up in the middle of the night screaming and made you feel worth less than dirt in the morning. He knew what she was going through, and he was helpless to do anything but watch.

  She reached her bedroom door and stopped. Her hand went to her mouth, and she shook her head. “No. I can’t…I can’t sleep in there.” Her eyes darted around the room to the still torn-up couch. “No,” she sobbed. “Stupid dog. Stupid. I have no place. I have no place to sleep.”

  “My bed. Take my bed.” Jack held his arm out toward his room.

  She stood there shaking her head—her eyes wide and her mouth twisted.

  He turned his hands palm out. “I’ll sleep out here.”

  “Just go. Please.”

  “Alice, let me help you.”

  Replacement’s hands went to her stomach and she cried, “Help me? You can’t help me. You can’t fix me. I’m NOT FIXABLE!” Her mouth contorted as she wept. “Get out…just get out. GET OUT!”

  Jack backed up to the door, and Lady followed him. As the dog moved to his side, Replacement’s hands wrapped around her stomach and she bent over. Jack took a step forward, but she held her hand up.

  “LEAVE. PLEASE JUST LEAVE.” She sobbed.

  Jack opened the door and walked backward out of the apartment with Lady. Replacement rushed forward and slammed the door shut. The gust of air blew Jack’s hair back, and he blinked rapidly.

  His head sagged forward. Help her, please. Jack grew up with crazy. His biological mother would fly off the rails, but it was usually because of booze or drugs. He remembered how he was after Chandler died—that was crazy too. Replacement needed him now more than ever, but she’d just shut him out.

  “Mr. Stratton?”

  Jack didn’t open his eyes when he heard Mrs. Stevens’s voice. In all the other fights that took place in his apartment, she always ran up and threatened to evict him, but now he heard the concern in her voice.

  “I’m sorry about the noise, Mrs. Stevens.” Jack looked up.

  Mrs. Stevens slowly walked up to him. “I’m sure she probably just needs some time.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Stratton, if you’d like, I’ll bring her up some breakfast…after she’s cooled down a little.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Would you like to come watch some TV? You and Lady are always welcome.”

  Jack shook his head as he continued to stare at the closed door. “We’re good. I think I should ask her if she’s okay.”

  Mrs. Stevens’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Sometimes people need a little time. I know you want to do something now, but it may only make it worse. Why don’t you take a little drive? I’ll be right here, and I’ll come up and check on her.”

  Jack looked at her. “Thank you.”

  “She’ll be fine, Mr. Stratton. Alice is a good girl.”

  Jack nodded.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Your Car’s Moving

  He turned off the highway, and Jack flexed his hands. They hurt. I must have had a death grip on the steering wheel. The off-ramp led to a commercial section outside the cute, little postcard town he’d just passed. The homes with manicured lawns gave way to auto shops and supply companies. He slowed down and turned onto a long curving driveway. The mental hospital was a large, brick building that wasn’t visible from the road.

  It was just after nine and a few groups of people walked around outside. They were all in pairs.

  Patients have to be escorted outside at all times.

  Lady whimpered as he lowered the windows.

  Jack rubbed her head. “I won’t be long.”

  A wide sidewalk led to the large granite steps in front of the building. Jack walked through one of the wooden double doors that opened to a large intersection of linoleum-tiled hallways.

  After he signed in, an orderly took him to a padded bench in the corner. He waited there for ten minutes before a large male orderly came through the doors.

  “Good morning, Mr. Stratton.” His huge hand shook Jack’s.

  “Hi, Peter.”

  Petya Anatoliy stood six foot four and weighed at least two hundred eighty pounds. His receding black hair was buzz cut on the lowest setting. Dressed in hospital scrubs and sneakers, Jack couldn’t think of a nicer man to watch out for his mother.

  “Patty’s very excited about this morning. She’s been doing much better,” Peter reported.

  Jack nodded. Doctor Jamison worked wonders with his mother. He dialed the amount of medicine she’d been prescribed way down. The results were startling. Over the past months, his mother had put on weight and improved so much they transferred her to the first floor.

  “Steven!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice. His mother was thin and tall. Crystal-clear blue eyes made her simple blue dress even paler in comparison. Her gray hair was s
till cut short, but even it looked healthier.

  “Steven.” She rushed to hug him. Her eyes still darted around the room, and Jack couldn’t help but picture a timid bird.

  Steven was Jack’s birth name and the name of his father. Jack eventually confessed to his mother he changed it. She said she understood, but she still called him Steven.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?” He held onto her a little longer than usual.

  She straightened up, and her eyes narrowed slightly before she broke into a smile. “We get to go outside.” She pressed her hands together.

  Jack nodded. “Peter’s going to escort us.”

  Patty grinned like a little girl as she slipped her arm under Jack’s outstretched elbow. Peter walked a few feet behind them but lingered farther back once they went outside. Patty inhaled deeply and kept turning her face toward the sun. After a few minutes, she took Jack by the hand and walked over to a bench under a large oak tree. He sat next to her and looked down at their hands.

  Patty glanced back at Peter, who stood a ways off. “What’s wrong, Steven?”

  Jack looked up and shook his head slightly. He tried to force a smile. “Nothing.”

  What am I going to say? I’m trying to find a serial killer? My father’s death was hard enough on her. Smile and nod, Jack.

  Patty chuckled and gazed up into the tree.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “You’re lying.”

  The frank statement hit Jack so oddly he laughed. “I’m not.”

  “Are.” She rolled her eyes. “You suck at it. Tell me.”

  Jack exhaled and looked down at his feet.

  They sat there until she leaned over and asked, “Are you going to tell or not?”

  He sighed, reached down and picked up a handful of gravel. “It’s nothing.” He tossed a rock.

  Patty reached down and picked up some gravel too. She flicked her rock out and raised an eyebrow. “Is it Alice?”

  Jack still couldn’t believe how well Alice and his mother got along. They talked for over an hour on his last visit.

  “Yeah,” Jack confessed.

  “You fight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your fault?”