Authors: Christopher Greyson
JACK KNIFED (17 page)
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for asking.”
Jack smiled as he felt fingers softly running along his chest. He breathed in, and the scent of lilac drifted up. A long fingernail traced his jawline, and he could feel the warmth of breath against his cheek. He turned his head, and Replacement’s face was right next to his. She moistened her lips with her tongue and let her fingers run up his chest and across his neck until she grabbed the back of his head. The slightest pressure of her hand was all the encouragement he needed to move his head forward, and he kissed her. He inhaled as she kissed him back.
She softly purred, and rolled on top of him. His hands traveled up her back, and then his fingers stroked her hair. Her writhing body pressed against his, and her fingernails gently raked down his neck and over his chest. Jack moaned as her hand continued downward. She leaned in and gently kissed Jack’s ear. His heart raced as he felt her tongue glide around the lobe, and she whispered, “Please, Jack. Please make love to me.”
Jack’s eyes snapped open. Panting, he gulped and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, he turned to look at Replacement who lay cradled in his arms, still asleep. Her arm was around his waist, and her breath came in little puffs against his face. He froze.
Alice…
He thought back to last night and her opening up to him, and he smiled.
You’re easy to talk to. You’re real. Genuine.
The fresh spring scent of the bedding mingled with the scent of her hair. His left hand lifted up and hovered just above her head. Slowly, imperceptibly, he lowered his hand to cradle the base of her head. Softer than the silky sheets, her hair flowed around his fingers. She moaned softly, and her chin rose. Their lips were now only a breath apart. All Jack had to do was angle his head. She pulled him closer to her, and purred. It was more than a moan. Her whole body vibrated and writhed against him.
Oh man. Don’t. Don’t.
Jack tried not to breathe as he scooted backward and out of the bed.
Damn it.
Jack turned and almost ran for the bathroom.
Seriously, stupid, don’t do it. I’m the only friend she has. If it didn’t work out…then what? Could I live with her? Of course not. It would suck. I’ll drive her away. I always do. She’d hang in there because she’s a good kid, but she deserves a life. A good life with a good man. I’ll ruin it.
Jack washed his face and changed. Silently he gathered up his shoes, wallet, and keys, and slipped out the door.
Go for a ride. Think.
The inn was deserted as he headed down the staircase and out the door. The chill from the crisp air was refreshing, and he breathed in deeply. The first rays of the morning were lightening the sky, and a mist clung to the trees and ground.
Jack swung his arms and jogged for the car. It was the type of morning that made you want to run. The gravel crunched under his feet, but all around him was still. He paused at the Impala. Right now, he’d love to fight. His dream had gotten both his blood and testosterone kicking into high gear, and he wanted some physical confrontation to satisfy him now.
Sparring, boxing, or Kendo would be perfect, but if he could choose, it would be Kendo. It wasn’t the tradition or history of the sport he loved but the sheer raw power that it unleashed in him. There was also the fact that you got to wear armor. That and the pain. Getting hit with a bamboo sword hurt like hell even with the armor, but it let you know you lost. The roar of the Impala’s engine broke through the quiet, and Jack let the car warm up. The little town was asleep as he pulled out and sped through the streets. He tried to remember whether there was a coffee shop near the inn but couldn’t think of any.
Might as well make it productive.
He started to head for Buckmaster Pond but stopped. He turned the Impala around and drove out to Mrs. Ritter’s house first.
Retrace his steps. Get in his head.
He pulled up in front of the little ranch house. It was a small yellow house with black shutters. The backyard had a chain-link fence around it. From the look of the old doghouse, he’d guess the dog was out of the picture, too.
For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to go inside.
Not now. Later. Steven was home from school. Did Patricia call him? Didn’t they have phone records then? Did Dennis pull them?
Jack closed his eyes and tried to visualize himself in the house.
He knows he needs to get to the pond. His girl is waiting for him. How? He didn’t take the bike. Hitchhike? I’ll have to check that angle.
The front door of the house suddenly opened, and Mrs. Ritter appeared with a broom in her hand. Jack was tempted to slide down in the seat but, instead, he just froze and stared at the old woman as she swept the front step. Smiling, she looked up, and her eyes went right to his. He could see her hand begin to reach out as she stopped.
Damn. I didn’t want to do this just now.
Jack quickly opened his door and jogged across the street. The old woman’s face beamed as he trotted up the little walk.
“Good morning,” he called as he slowed. “I didn’t know if it was too early. I was going to head out to the pond, and I thought…”
Her hand went to her mouth, and she set the broom against the house. With both hands, she urged him closer, and he walked forward. She hugged him. Even with her standing on the top step and Jack on the walkway, she had to look up to him.
“Oh, nonsense. I always wake up early. I just put some coffee on, and I can make you something for breakfast.”
“No. I’m fine. I’m going for a run—”
She grabbed Jack by the hand and turned around. “Don’t be ridiculous. It will only take a moment.”
Jack held the door open as she went back inside, but he froze at the threshold. Mrs. Ritter turned back, puzzled, and her smile vanished. Jack stared into the little house. It was just how he pictured a grandmother’s house to be. Everything was very neat and tidy, but he could see it was old. That didn’t matter to Jack, except he knew the significance of that fact.
This is where my father lived. Where he grew up.
“I’m sorry.” Jack closed his eyes for a second. “This is…his home, and I never really thought…”
Mrs. Ritter’s lips pressed together, and she nodded. “We can have breakfast on the stoop if you’d rather. I’m just delighted that you’re here.” She turned and headed into the kitchen.
Jack looked into the little living room with the long couch and two chairs on either side. There was a TV across from it, between two windows. He could see Mrs. Ritter hurriedly opening cabinets in the kitchen. Jack took a deep breath and walked in.
“Really, you don’t have to do that.”
Mrs. Ritter frowned as she pushed the bread into the toaster. “You act like you’re putting me out, and it’s the opposite. I’m so glad you’re here.” She motioned to one of the four dark wooden chairs that surrounded a matching dark wooden table, and Jack sat down. “Cream?”
“Yes, please.”
She set the cup in front of him and took more items from the refrigerator.
“May I ask you something?” Jack stared into the cup.
Mrs. Ritter turned around with a big smile. “Of course.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way.” Jack looked down. “I want to know about you and Steven, but…right now…I need to know what happened. Can I ask you some questions about that night?”
Mrs. Ritter nodded.
“How did Steven get to the pond?”
Jack could see the old woman’s shoulders tense. She paused for a moment and then picked up a spatula. “I have asked myself that question a thousand times. I’m never content with my answer. I don’t know.”
“What do you think?”
“His bike was here. I know he’d walked to the pond a few times, but it’s a long walk. If I’d been home…”
She turned and placed a plate of toast and eggs down, and then sat across from him.
“Thank you.”
Jack bowed his head, and right before he closed his eyes he saw her smile.
She continued after Jack opened his eyes. “I was working. I was a hairdresser then. I came home and didn’t think anything was amiss. Steven was such a good boy that I didn’t really worry about him.”
“Did he mention anything about the pond or meeting anyone?”
Mrs. Ritter reached out and brushed Jack’s hair out of his eyes.
She shook her head. “Nothing that morning.”
Jack exhaled and looked down at his plate.
It was her son. She deserves to know.
“He went out there to meet Patty.”
Mrs. Ritter wrung her hands and looked out the window while Jack ate in silence.
“Did she have something to do with it?” she asked.
Now it was Jack’s turn to look out the window. “Not directly.”
“He never mentioned her to me.” Her lips were tightly pressed together. “I hope he didn’t think I’d have condemned the girl and the relationship.” She sighed. “But if he did, he was probably right. A mother wants the best for her children, and from what I’d heard about Patty, it would have given me pause.”
Jack nodded, pushed his plate away, and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
Mrs. Ritter looked panicked. “Can I get you some more? Another cup of coffee?”
“I’m fine. I just need to…I promise that I’ll come back.”
She smiled and seemed to relax. “When you do, I’ll give you a haircut.” She pushed his hair back again.
“That’s a deal.” Jack laughed. “I really need one.”
“Do you want one now?” The old woman’s face lit up.
The smile froze on Jack’s face. “Seriously? I thought you were kidding.”
“No. I used to cut your father’s hair. I’d love to. Please?”
“Okay. When I come back, you—”
“Oh, don’t be silly. It will only take a minute, and it’s too long for your face right now.”
“No, no. I’m okay.” Jack started to rise, but Mrs. Ritter’s hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.
“Surely you have ten minutes. Besides, you want to look your best for Alice.”
Jack rolled his eyes and looked toward the door.
This can’t be happening.
Half an hour later, Jack stood at the open doorway of the little ranch house. Mrs. Ritter had tears in her eyes as she hugged him again.
“You look so much like your father.” She held him by his shoulders and smiled up at him. Jack resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck or look for a mirror.
“I didn’t expect all of that, but thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. You’ve made an old woman extremely happy.”
Jack quickly leaned in, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and headed for the car. Mrs. Ritter waved from the step as he drove away. Jack pulled down the rearview mirror and exhaled. His hair was on the short side, but he smiled broadly.
It looks good. Get your mind back on track, Jack. Think. Facts. Patricia asked to meet him. He heads there. Alone? Terry put her up to it, so…would he have picked up on that? Was he paranoid like me, or did he blindly rush out there?
The reset trip lever in the Impala resisted as Jack tried to press it, but it clicked and the miles finally read zero. He kept his head on a swivel as he drove out there.
What was he thinking? What would I do if I was a seventeen-year-old boy and my girlfriend calls me to meet her at night? Hell, I’d run out there, peeling my clothes off on the way.
The route to the pond took Jack on an almost straight run to the outskirts of town.
There are no businesses out here. Huge spots with no homes. Some look new, so there would have been even fewer out here then. There’s no way that he thought he could hitchhike.
Jack passed the last house before the turnoff to the pond. The fog was dense near the pond, and it clung to the base of the pines.
Six and a quarter miles here.
Jack pulled into the pond parking lot. Sitting up as high in the seat as he could, he still couldn’t see the water in the pond. As he stepped out of the car, he dug his hands into his pockets, and his left hand pressed against his gun. He had it with him so often now that he’d almost forgotten he brought it. Shivering, he jogged down the little path. The rock marker slowly came into view. Jack slowed and then stopped. He stared at the bronze plate.
It’s the spot where my father died. Was it? That was where his body was found. That’s a fact. Maybe he wasn’t killed here?
Jack turned around and surveyed the clearing.
No, Patricia said they lured him out to the pond. No attempt to hide the body.
Jack stared at the marble marker.
Patty came back. She brought him water. She must have called the police. She called 911… No. There was no 911 then and no cell phones. Where would she have called from?
Jack looked around. The last house he passed on the way here was half a mile away, but across the pond he could see a little house with its lights on. Jack jogged to the granite rock that went out over the water. From there, you could clearly see a little dock outside the small home.
She’d have gone there.
He started to jog as he also pulled out his cell phone. 8:30.
Mom would kill me for even thinking of knocking on someone’s door this early but their lights are on. Someone’s up.
Jack kept running until he reached the backyard of the little house. A manicured lawn led up to a small white cottage. Jack could see the kitchen light on. Staying to the edge of the lawn, he made his way around the front. He walked up the stone walk and exhaled before he knocked on the black front door. He looked out onto the empty street and back to his feet.
Eight thirty in the morning and you show up on someone’s doorstep to ask them about a murder. Mom wouldn’t be mad; she’d be ballistic.
He was about to give up when someone opened the door. A middle-aged woman in sweatpants and a T-shirt smiled broadly as she looked Jack up and down with a widening smile.
“Hello.” She leaned against the doorframe.
“Hi. My name is Jack Stratton, and I was wondering if I might ask you a couple of questions.”
“I’d love to help you out but what’re you selling?”
Jack swallowed and shifted his weight. “Nothing. I’m not a salesman. Actually, I had a question, but you’re far too young to have lived here twenty-six years ago.”
“Honey, I like the way you talk.” She grinned from ear to ear and shook her mane of red hair. “I hate to admit it, but yeah, I did live here then. I’d have been, like, nine.”
“Who’s there?” a woman called from inside.
“It’s fine, Mom. There’s a young man asking for directions.”
“Shut the door or invite him in. It’s freezing.”
“Your clock is ticking.” The redhead winked. “Ask away.”
“Do you remember when Steven Ritter was killed?”
The woman’s face went white, and the smile vanished. She cleared her throat.
“Yes. The boy at the pond. I was little. I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about it beyond that.” She stood up straight, and her hand moved to the doorknob.
Lie. She’s panicked and off-balance. Press her.
“Did a girl come here that night and use your phone?”
Her eyes went wide and her neck lengthened. A second later, she shook her head. “No,” she blurted out. “Nothing happened that night. I’m sorry but I need to go.”
“Abbey? Abbey, shut the door,” the mother called again, and this time her voice was close.
“Please. Steven was my father.” Jack stepped forward into the doorway and the woman moved back.
“Abbey, I’m not dressed!” An old woman stood in the hallway. She pulled her large robe tightly around herself, and a hand went to her curled hair.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I need to know about the night my father was killed,” Jack called out.
The old woman stopped where she was. The redhead tried to shut the door, but Jack held it open with a hand.
“Please.”
The old woman stood there and stared at him. Jack could see the debate raging inside her—whether to talk to him or not. He turned his palms out and slightly lowered his head.
“Please.”
“Let him in, Abbey,” she whispered.
Abbey stepped aside and looked down at the floor.
“Thank you.” Jack kept his head slightly down as he entered.
The inside of the house looked as if it would be better suited to Florida with its tan tile floor and white walls. The back of the house immediately caught Jack’s attention. The whole rear wall was glass and looked directly across the pond.
“Do you want a coffee?” The old woman shuffled into a kitchen to the right and sat down. “That one has cream and sugar. I put it out for Abbey, but she hasn’t touched it yet.”
“Thank you.” Jack sat down.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Jack Stratton. Steven was my father.”
The woman reached out for her coffee cup, but her hands trembled so she quickly put them back in her lap.
“You were here that night?”
The old woman nodded.
“Did a young girl come here and make a phone call?”
Abbey and her mother exchanged a quick glance, and the old woman shook her head.
Lie.
“Listen, I know Patricia Cole called the police from here that night.”
The old woman looked down and then glared back at Jack.
“I’m sorry about your father, but don’t go calling me a liar.”
“You’re lying. Patricia is my mother.” Jack let the words hang.
The woman slumped in her chair.
“Oh, son. I’m sorry.” She looked closer at Jack and leaned back again. “How? Oh, dear Lord. Patty and Steven?” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Can you please tell me what happened? Start with the first thing you remember.”
“Patty showed up that night, covered in blood and pounding on the door. I just about went out of my mind. She was screaming that someone stabbed him. She didn’t have anything to do with it. I just know it.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How do you know she had nothing to do with it?”
The old woman looked at Jack as if he had four heads. “She’s your mother. Don’t you know your mother better than that?”
Jack closed his eyes. “No, I don’t. Last week, I saw her for the first time in twenty years.”
“Oh.” Abbey put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“I’m just looking for answers. You said she was covered in blood, and you let her in? Did you know Patty?”
She nodded. “Patty’s mother and I’d been best friends.”
“When she came to the door, was anyone with her? Did you see or hear a car?”
“No. She was alone. She kept saying he was stabbed. She called the fire department for an ambulance.”
“She called?”
She nodded again. “Patty was hysterical, but they rushed right out. We watched until they left, but the police stayed a long time. Too long. I knew it was bad because of that.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“To report what? That Patty found a stabbed boy? They’d think she had something to do with it. I knew she didn’t. Deep down she was a good girl. She just found him that way. Besides, Patty’s father was a bastard. A meaner man never lived. I don’t know what he’d have done to her.”
“What happened after?”
“I drove her home. I made her swear never to talk about it. It didn’t matter. Patty ran away a couple of months later. We haven’t seen her since. Is she okay?”
Jack nodded. “Can you please try to remember if she said anything about who did it?”
“She didn’t. I know it. Her mother and I were best friends, but if I thought she had anything to do with it or knew something, I’d have had her talk to the cops.”
Jack stood up. The old woman remained sitting but reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing. Can you tell her that I hope she’s well?”
You convinced a scared girl not to go to the police. You hid evidence in a murder, then you drove her back and left her with a man you knew was a bastard, and you thought you were doing the right thing? Some best friend.
Jack glared down at the old woman, who sat slumped in the chair.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he muttered and headed for the door.
Jack paused in the hallway as he looked back across the pond.
She thought she could get help here. She was wrong.
Abbey walked ahead of him and opened the front door.
He nodded his head as he passed her. “Thank you for your time.”
“I’m sorry about your dad. I didn’t know him, but I liked Patty. She was always real nice to me.”
“Did you see anything that night?”
Abbey shook her head. “I saw the police at the pond, but when Patty came, my mom made me go to bed.”
“Thanks.”
As Jack turned to go, his hand shot out and stopped the closing door.
“Wait a second. I’m sorry, but did you just say you saw the police and
then
Patty came over?”
Abbey tilted her head and shrugged. “Yeah, but…that can’t be right. Why would they be there first? Maybe I got it wrong?”
Jack reached into his pocket and took out one of his cards.
“Please. Try to remember which way it happened. If you do, call me.”
“I will. I’m sorry again.”
As he walked down the path, Jack’s steps slowed.
Witnesses’ first remarks are typically the most accurate. She was only nine, but trauma has a way of branding itself on your brain. But if she’s right, why would the police have been there before Patty came? And if they were, why is there no record of it?