by Mark Stone
Blinking hard, I turned and flung myself through the open door as the house bellowed and collapsed in front of us.
Grass and cool air rushed up to meet me as I landed and then crawled away from the smoldering wreckage of the house.
Feeling arms on my shoulders, I looked up to find Mia dragging me forward. “Stay with me, Lucky,” she said as I heard sirens roar from behind her. “They’re here now. Just stay with me.” As she stopped, figuring she had pulled me far enough away, she looked down at me, smiling. “You were right. We did it, Lucky. We actually did it.”
I’d have smiled back at her myself if not for two things. I was far too tired to make any sort of movement as extreme as a smile, but more than that, there was a troublesome feeling nagging at me. It told me that all of this was far from over.
Chapter 11
“How many parties are you going to get us invited to in this town?” Davey asked, looking over at me with a goofy smile on his face and a bottle of wine in his hand as we walked toward the front door of Alexis’s house. The last time I was here, almost a full week ago, was the night of the bonfire. It was the night I got tased within an inch of my life, Jack had been snatched from me, and the night he, Mia, and I had almost died in a house fire. It was also the night that Jack’s father, George, did die, and that was what prompted me to say this.
“It’s not a party,” I answered, hands in my pockets as I settled in front of the door. “I was told very specifically and very forcefully that this wasn’t a party. It’s just a small celebration of the fact that Jack is home, safe and sound.” I shrugged. “The kid wanted me to be here.” I pulled my right hand from my pocket and used it to ring the doorbell. The chime sent melodic tones out into the warm, salt-tinged air.
“Can’t say I blame him,” Davey said. “He’d be dead if not for you. Though that isn’t the point. I’ve got a bottle of wine in my hands, I’m wearing my best flower-print shirt, and I was promised one of those luau pigs that gets buried in the sand for days and then cooked up all delicious and stuff. If this isn’t a party, I don’t know what is.”
“I’m pretty sure the pig is cooked all delicious and stuff before it’s ever buried, but I guess I see your point. But you have to see mine. This little kid’s dad just died. He might have been a world-class jackass, but he was still Jack’s father and Alexis’s ex-husband. I know you’re excited to be a part of all of this, but we have to pretend to have a little decorum when we get in there.”
“I don’t think I’d have to pretend to do that,” Davey said. “I’m pretty sure I have a little decorum.” My friend glanced over at me, the smile on his face fading just a little. “You okay? I know it must be a lot for you to have to come back here.”
“I’m fine,” I answered, images of the people who attacked me and took Jack running through my mind. “I just hope Alexis and Jack are okay. They’re going through a lot right now.”
“And Mia, right?” Davey asked.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I ran a hand through my hair.
“Mia,” he said. “The girl who helped you that night, the cute one with the badge. You think she’s here?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t have any idea,” I admitted.
“Really?” Davey asked. “I figured you’d be all over her at this point. She was hot.”
“I wasn’t really paying much attention, you know, given the fact that we were trapped inside a burning building,” I said. “And I had to—”
“Break your way out with a metal rod,” Davey finished, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, dude. I heard the story. I don’t need you to reenact it again like it’s the Battle of Gettysburg. I’m just saying, high-pressure environments can often lead to intense connections . . . sometimes of the extremely fun nature. No one could blame you if you found yourself falling victim to that status quo.”
“I haven’t even seen Mia since the night of the fire, and given the way she reacted to me before that, I doubt either of us will be falling victim to anything. Now, straighten yourself up and let’s try to fly right tonight, okay?”
“You stole that,” Davey said, sneering at me disapprovingly. “Commander Johnson used to tell us that all the time. ‘Straighten up and fly right.’ Don’t try to pass it off as your own.”
“I’m not trying to pass anything off,” I answered. “Though, if you keep this up much longer, my hand will be passing through your jaw.”
“False. You would never hit me. I mean way too much to you for that,” Davey said.
I turned back to the door, muttering as I pressed the doorbell again. “I would totally hate you if I didn’t love you.”
“Same,” Davey answered as the door swung open.
Alexis stood in the doorway. She wore a white tank top with a cartoon unicorn on it and a pair of jeans that she could have been poured into. That was the thing I loved most about this place. Even people with all the money and connections that Alexis had didn’t feel the need to dress up.
“My hero,” she said, her eyes lighting up and her face stretching out into a smile.
“I do what I can,” Davey answered before I had a chance to respond.
Alexis’s eyes flickered over to my war buddy and narrowed as she said, “John Lucky’s friend. Good to see you again.”
“Good to be seen,” Davey said. “Maybe one day, it might even be good enough for you to actually remember my name.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Alexis said and nodded for us to enter.
Davey went in first, handing her the bottle in his hand. “This is wine,” he said, as though she’d maybe never seen a bottle of the stuff before. “Or, as I like to call it, ‘not beer’. I hope you enjoy it, I guess.”
“With that kind of enthusiasm, how could I not?” Alexis joked, smiling as Davey entered the house.
“Sorry about him. He’s sort of an acquired taste,” I said, shaking my head.
“I gathered,” Alexis said. “But you know, sometimes, people say that about me too. Personally, I think it’s the things you have to work for that are usually the most worth it.”
“You might have a point there,” I said, walking past her and entering the house. Things looked different than they had the last time I was here. The vast living room was still one of the fanciest places I had ever been allowed to set foot in, but whereas the other night, it was completely barren and empty, this time, the room was dotted with more than a few people. I searched the room for familiar faces, most notably Jack or Mia, but came up empty.
“Nice spread, right?” she asked, smiling over at me as we walked into the living room. Stretched out before us was a buffet table filled with the most delicious-looking foods known to man. Fresh fruit, whole red snapper, and a huge platter filled with gulf shrimp and cocktail sauce. For a guy who, even after winning the lottery, pretty much lived off fast food fried chicken and chili dogs, it was particularly mouthwatering.
I chuckled. “Don’t be surprised if Davey wants to move in here after tonight.”
“Not only would I not be surprised, but I don’t think I’d be totally against the idea,” Alexis said. Sighing, she added, “For the last few days, I’ve been thinking pretty seriously about leaving this place. Too many bad memories, you know?”
“I can understand that,” I answered, shuffling a little as Alexis sat the bottle of ‘not beer’ on the table, plucked a matching pair of champagne flutes from a waiter as he walked by, and handed one to me.
“Bubbly?” she asked as she offered it to me.
“Not yet, but hopefully, this’ll help,” I said, taking a huge drink.
“That’s what you used to take down that thief in the convenience store, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a much smaller sip of her drink. “You popped him in the head with a champagne bottle.”
“How many times did you read that article?” I asked, biting my lip as I looked the woman up and down.
“More than I’d like to admit to the guy the article is actually
about,” she answered, a blush rising in her cheeks. “Suffice it to say, if I were a teenager, I’d very likely have ‘Lucky John’ posters slapped across my wall.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” I said, grinning as I finished off my drink. “In all honesty, though, don’t give me too much credit. I’m not sure if your article let on, but the guy tried to rob that store with a water gun. So, I wasn’t exactly in mortal danger.”
“You were the other night, though, weren’t you?” Alexis asked, blinking hard and looking down at the marble floor. “When you saved my boy, when you ran into that burning building like a damn superhero and came out with my son. Mia told me what happened. She said she would have left Jack in there if not for you.”
“Mia was brave that night,” I answered. “She took pictures of George. She brought back proof that there was more at play than anybody thought.” I shook my head. “And the only reason she would have left Jack there is because she didn’t think to look in the bathroom. If she would have, I have no doubt she’d have—”
“I don’t give a damn about what she would have done,” Alexis said. “I only care about what you did,” she said. “That kid is my whole life, every inch and ounce of it. And you saved him. You saved my life, and that means I owe you.”
“I didn’t do it for payment,” I answered.
“That’s good, because I’d never have enough to give you,” Alexis said. “What I am curious about is why you did it. Is it possible that you’re just the kind of guy who does the right thing because it’s the right thing?”
“You say that like it shouldn’t be normal,” I said, setting the champagne flute down on the counter.
“I don’t know if it should be, but it sure as hell isn’t.” Alexis sighed. “I wonder if life would have been different for me if I’d met a guy like you before I met a guy like George.”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question.”
“I know,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “No one can, I suppose. Still, it’s something to think about.” She polished off her own drink and set it down beside mine. “And please don’t think I’m speaking ill of the dad. George was my first love. He gave me my son, and I’ll always have a place in my heart for him. I’m not even saying he deserved what he got. Even if he did take Jack, and it looks like he did, no one deserves to die like that. All I’m saying is that he wasn’t kind to me. He didn’t treat me the way I know I deserve to be treated now. If I’d have known it back then—”
“Then you wouldn’t have the most adorable little kid in the world,” I answered. “None of us come into this world with all the answers. I might be the guy who runs into burning buildings and saves cashiers from poorly-armed robbers, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t made mistakes. It doesn’t mean I won’t make more, either.”
“Hopefully, they can at least be the good kind of mistake,” Alexis cooed at me.
“Guess that depends on how much longer my lucky streak lasts,” I said.
“I’ve got faith in you.”
Before I could reply, the door swung open and a man entered. It took me a moment to recognize him, but even before I did, I could tell from the way Alexis tensed up and the overall hush that fell over the room that this man either shouldn’t be here or he felt this shouldn’t be happening.
“Abe,” Alexis muttered.
The name struck me immediately. That was Abe Jenkins, the sheriff of Bonita Springs and the father of George. His face had a worn, numb look on it. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be giving his features any life whatsoever was the tint of anger in his eyes.
“Abe, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Alexis asked, her voice growing stern as she moved toward the man.
“My son is dead, my grandson has just been through the sort of traumatic experience you only ever think happens to people in movies, and a multimillion-dollar house that I own is a pile of smoldering rubble on the ground. Throw in the fact that half the people in this town think my son is a vile kidnapper, and I don’t have any trouble admitting that no, I am not fine,” he said, looking around the room. “I can see I’m the only one, though. Looks like a nice celebration. I guess the window of mourning for ex-wives is terribly short these days.”
Alexis’s face wilted like a flower during the backside of autumn. “Of course, I’m still in mourning, Abe. I hate everything that happened, but this isn’t a celebration. This is just my way of saying thank you to the people who saved my son.”
“I see Mia is absent from that list,” the sheriff said.
“She had personal stuff,” Alexis said. “It’s not a—”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” Abe said, walking toward her. “This party.”
“It’s not a party,” Alexis said.
“Whatever it is, it’s the reason this man wasn’t home tonight,” Abe said, pointing at me. “John Lucky, correct?”
“That’s what my birth certificate says,” I answered, steeling up just a little as the man neared me.
“You can drop all the verbal flourishes, Mr. Lucky. I can assure you that I won’t find them charming.” He settled in front of me, looking at me like I had just run over his dog. “We need to talk, sir. You need to tell me exactly what you did to my son.”
Chapter 12
“You got anything stronger?” I asked, eyeing the cup of water Sheriff Jenkins sat in front of me as he pulled the metal chair out and sat down across the table from me. This wasn’t the first time I had been in an interrogation room. That honor belonged to some I got into involving firecrackers and a string of public toilets when I was fifteen. This might, however, have been the first time I had ever been in an interrogation room without actually having done anything wrong. As the sheriff eyed me, though, I saw that I would probably have to work pretty hard to convince him of that.
“This isn’t a game, Mr. Lucky. A man is dead, property has been destroyed, and a little boy has gone through something horribly life changing,” the sheriff said. “Let’s treat this situation with the gravity it deserves.”
“You don’t have to run down a list of all the crap that happened, Abe. I was there for all of it,” I said, deciding to use his first name, mostly to piss him off but also to let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him. I hadn’t been arrested. I came here of my own accord, and I would leave of that same accord if this guy pushed me too far. In fact, the only reason I was sitting here right now was because I had learned a long time ago that it was better to face situations head on. If the police in this town wanted to talk to me, wanted to look into me, they would. Being open and honest would only serve to ensure they came to the right conclusion. Didn’t mean I was going to get screamed at, though. “In fact, the only reason there isn’t more property damage to speak of, the only reason your grandson has a life to be changed, is because I was there when it happened.”
“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Lucky,” the sheriff said, tapping his fingers across the top of the metal table and making a really irritating sound. “I’ve read the reports from that night more than a few times.”
“Then you should already know what happened,” I answered, tightening my jaw. “I already spoke to the police. Hell, a cop was with me the entire time.”
“Almost the entire time,” Sheriff Jenkins said. “Judging by your own report as well as the report of Detective White, the two of you were separated for a while inside the house, as well as before you found my son’s body.” The man blinked hard, and I watched as the tears that had pooled up in his eyes dissipated. He was steeling himself. I knew that all too well. War will teach you how to do that. It’ll also teach you why it’s so important. When you’re in the middle of hell with no way out, you have to keep yourself in check. You have to keep your crap together. Otherwise, you’ll never find your way back from it.
That must have been what Sheriff Jenkins was going through. He must have been marching through his own personal hell right now, with no way out. It made me feel for the guy. It
really did. Of course, I couldn’t just sit here and allow him to paint me or the situation as something that it wasn’t.
“Not for too long,” I answered. “And she was there pretty much when I found George.”
“She said she got there after,” Sheriff Jenkins said. “She said when she found you there, you were running out of the room.”
“I was exiting the room,” I said flatly. “There’s a big difference. I knew there was nothing I could do for George. So, I decided it would be in everyone’s best interest if I left him and started looking for Jack.” Shaking my head, I continued. “And thank God I did, otherwise, I don’t even want to think about what would have happened.”
“You have the luxury of that, I suppose,” Sheriff Jenkins said. “Not having to think about it.”
My hands tensed into fists on the table. “What the hell do you want from me, dude?” I asked. “Look, I get that you’re going through a hard time. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to lose your son like this. I’m sure it doesn’t make it any easier to think that he might not have been the greatest person in the world. But I’m struggling to understand why I’m here.”
“I am, too, to be honest with you, Mr. Lucky,” Sheriff Jenkins answered. “I’ve read up on you, Lucky John, as the papers called you. I read about what happened to you.”
“I got fortunate,” I said, deciding to use Jack’s word for me. “I bought a ticket and it won. No crime there.”
“I’m not talking about the lottery, Mr. Lucky,” Sheriff Jenkins said. “I’m talking about what happened to your father.”
My heart skipped a beat and I found myself standing before I had even registered the movement. “I think this interview is over.”
“Sit down, Mr. Lucky,” the sheriff said, but I didn’t move. “You had an argument with my son earlier in the afternoon on the day of his murder, didn’t you? Then, hours later, you were the person who last saw my grandson before he was taken away. Men in masks did it, right?”