Jack and Mr. Grin (10 page)

Unless it was Mr. Grin who sent the cop here in the first place.

If he’s capable of supernaturally branding people then maybe he’s capable of knowing what’s going on.

Jack and Sam hovered around the cop as he went through the apartment. Luckily, the bong was all smashed on the ground so it wasn’t immediately recognizable as a bong. Sam kicked the golden metal bowl part of it under the end table. Jack’s mind raced. The cop took both their names. He got Jack’s address, writing it down in his pad.

“This place is a wreck,” the cop said.

“I know, officer,” Sam said. “I drink a lot. But that’s not a crime, is it?”

“The kitchen smells like spoiled milk.”

“On top of being a drunk, I’m also very lazy.”

“I’m starting to not like your attitude,” the cop said.

“I apologize, officer.”

Jack was starting to wish Sam would stop. He was going to end up getting them ticketed or dragged to the station for something completely stupid. Jack stayed close by them, as they went from room to room, simultaneously making sure Sam didn’t say anything too incriminating and watching the cop.

It was possible, Jack thought, that
this
cop was Mr. Grin’s connection to the force. If that was the case, and Jack couldn’t even believe he was thinking of this, he could take the cop out. Take him captive or something and force the cop to tell him where Gina was. But that would be an extremely bold move. If it didn’t work exactly the way Jack wanted it to, he could find himself in jail or even dead, shot by the cop in so-called self-defense.

He found himself looking at the cop, thinking he was just stalling them, but also looking at his gun, hung in his belt, the police radio, hung at the ready on his shoulder.

Between him and Sam, it was possible that the cop could be taken down and restrained.

Jack’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Reaching in to take it out, the cop whirled, immediately stopping what he was doing, his hand already on his gun.

“It’s just my phone,” Jack said. “Is it okay to take it?”

“I guess,” the cop said.

Jack flipped the phone open, walking back into the living room. Jack had planned on putting it on speakerphone the next time Mr. Grin called so Sam could hear what he sounded like. Maybe Sam would be able to identify him from the voice. But he couldn’t do that now, even though he was tempted to. He could just keep it on speakerphone and let Mr. Cop hear everything Mr. Grin was doing to Gina. He remembered a feature on his phone that allowed him to record conversations and, before answering it, he pressed the button that activated the voice memo.

Jack flipped the phone open, hoping it was going to catch everything, and said, “Hello.”

“My,” Mr. Grin began. “That’s the most pleasant introduction I’ve received all day. Wouldn’t be because there’s a cop going through your friend’s house right now, would it?”

“How do you know that?”

“I told you. You don’t want to go to the police.”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

Jack wanted to ask Mr. Grin if he had sent the cop here or if it really was just some strange coincidence but knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Just thought I’d call,” Mr. Grin said. “To keep you updated. It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked Gina, Jack. Thought you might want to hear it.”

Jack wanted to say all kinds of things but managed to fight the urge and say nothing.

He heard the sound of Mr. Grin’s phone shift and figured
he
must have been put on speakerphone.

He heard Gina wince... and speak.

“Jack. I love you. Oh, God, Jack, please find me. Please.”

“Where are you?” Jack said casually into the phone. Of course, he knew Mr. Grin would probably kill her if she told him where they were.

“I can’t tell you. Just... please.”

Then he heard her breath coming in short bursts, skin slapping skin, Mr. Grin grunting from somewhere far away. Everything built to its strange rhythm, Gina’s breaths so sharp it sounded like the phone was right next to her mouth. Mr. Grin grunted loudly and then the phone call ended. Jack looked at the phone as though it had somehow forsaken him.

He pressed buttons until he found an options menu. He scrolled down to the “Voice Memo” selection. He highlighted that one and clicked on it. The conversation was there in its entirety. He would let Sam listen to it if the ass didn’t end up in jail. Maybe it would strike some sort of chord with him.

He was so full of fury and rage his thoughts turned back to the cop and he was almost ready to attack him, certain he would be able to tell him who Mr. Grin was but he was already backing down the driveway. Timed perfectly. Everything seemed like it was timed so fucking perfectly.

Sam stood at the door to his apartment.

“He left in a fucking hurry,” Sam said.

“Yeah.”

“He was supposed to come back and breathalyze me.”

“Breathalyze you?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s what you get for telling cops you drink a lot. You know how I told him I was taking you to work? He wanted to make sure I was able to do it ‘unimpeded’ was how he put it.”

“Then he just drove off.”

“Well, he did ask about the blood in the bathroom. I told him I didn’t know exactly but I thought it came from my nose or maybe my girlfriend was menstruating. Good thing he didn’t see that hunk of skin you tore off me. Would have probably thought we were cannibals too.”

“Do your neighbors complain a lot?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, if someone complained it would have had to be the people above you, right?”

“Never really thought of that. I guess so. They’re never here during the day, though.”

“It
is
Sunday though.”

“No. They go away most weekends. We could go up there but I doubt they’re there right now.”

“I don’t think the cop was really investigating much of anything.”

“No?”

“No. I think he was sent as a warning.”

“We should have fucking taken him out.”

“That’s kind of what I had planned but now he’s gone.”

“I guess we should be gone too, huh?”

“The sooner the better.”

It was
4:36
.

Eighteen

Sam fired up the car and the sound of the Misfits blasted from the aged and badly worn speakers. He made no attempt to turn it down. He backed out haphazardly into the road, seemingly unaware that any cars may be speeding toward him, and gunned the accelerator until they were out on the state route and headed toward the highway.

He ran red lights and stop signs, acting not at all like a person who has just had a run-in with the police.

Once they reached a straightaway, Jack turned down the volume on the stereo and pulled out his cell phone. He found the latest call and said, “I want you to listen to this and tell me if you recognize the guy’s voice. It’s a little disturbing. I just want to warn you.”

“Give it here,” he said.

Jack watched for his reaction as he held it up to his right ear, a cigarette burning in his left hand. Miraculously, he managed to keep control of the speeding car.

After a few seconds, a look of distaste crossed Sam’s face and Jack almost thought he was going to throw the phone out the window. Instead, he angrily flipped it closed and tossed it over onto Jack’s lap.

“I tell you... When we find that guy I’m gonna cut his balls off and chew on em a little bit.”

“Did he sound at all familiar?”

“Shit. He sounded like every fat fuck I run into every day.”

“Did you think...” Jack began. “Did you think it sounded like he was...
smiling
?”

“Yeah. A little.” Sam plastered a smile on his face and mimicked some of what Mr. Grin said. “Yeah, I think it did sound like he was smiling. You know, there was this kid we went to school with. We all called him Smiley, you know, because it looked like he was always smiling. Maybe it was just the shape of his mouth or something.”

Jack felt his hopes surge wildly out of control.

Was it possible?

“So, you think it could be him? What was his name?”

“Oh, his name was David Lattimore. It couldn’t be him though. He killed himself shortly after graduation.” Sam chuckled. “Maybe I’m sick but the only thing I could picture was him swinging from that rope with a smile plastered on his face. It must have been a fucking weird thing to see.”

Jack picked the phone up from his lap and held it in his hand, not putting it away, cradling it, trying to draw some kind of answer from it.

Soon they reached the highway and Sam slowed down. It looked like every highway exit area on every interstate in
America
, lined with chain hotels, chain restaurants and chain gas stations. Like the developers had dropped their pants and shat out what every mid-size city in
America
had.

“Where do you want to start?” Sam said.

Jack thought about it.

He didn’t know.

Didn’t have any ideas.

He realized what a monumental undertaking this would be. Not to mention the fact he had absolutely no idea what they were looking for. Could he just walk into the motels and ask if they had seen someone fitting Gina’s description come in that morning?

He didn’t think that would do a lot of good. If Mr. Grin had had a morning of torture planned for Gina then he probably wasn’t going to go parading her through all of the hotel lobbies. Most likely he would have left Gina restrained in the car while he did the checking in. Maybe he even worked at one of these hotels. And he thought it must be some sort of unwritten code of privacy that the hotel clerks only give information to police. After all, at least a fourth of people checking into hotels and motels were there to do something they probably wouldn’t do in the comfort of their own home.

Sam pulled into the lot of a King’s Castle.

“Here?” he asked.

Jack continued to look helplessly at his phone. Did he even want to begin looking here? What was the likelihood they would actually find her? And how much time would they waste going into each of these places?

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “Do you have any ideas at all?”

“I’m as lost as you are, Jack. Let me listen to that conversation again.”

“Okay.” He cued it up.

Again, Jack found himself looking at Sam while he listened to his sister being raped. This time, Sam’s brow was furrowed in concentration.

Once finished, he pulled the phone away from his ear and handed it back to Jack.

“Listen to it again,” he said. “I was trying to see if there was any kind of sounds that would give it away— you know, like the highway in the background or something? But I didn’t hear any of that. But I think I heard something else. Towards the end, when she’s panting or something, listen, and it almost sounds like she’s trying to say something.”

Jack couldn’t listen to it fast enough. He started at the beginning and relistened to everything, paying close attention when it got to the end.

There was definitely some rhythm to her panting. Why would she be seductively panting in the first place? He figured if her mouth was uncovered, she would be screaming her head off unless she was someplace where she knew she wasn’t going to be heard or unless she was trying to convey some sort of message without Mr. Grin’s knowledge.

Jack started over and listened to it again.

He tried to verbalize what she may or may not have been trying to say.

“When... will... I... die?”

“Could be,” Sam said.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah. It does seem like sort of a half-hearted musing for someone in her situation.”

“When... words... ride?”

“That’s just dumb.”

Jack started from the beginning, skipped straight to Gina’s part.

It hit him hard. He felt his head spin. He thought he knew what she was trying to say.

“Turn around,” he told Sam. “We’re wasting our time up here.”

Sam whipped the car around, all squealing rubber, and they tore out of the King’s Castle parking lot, bolting across their lane and into oncoming traffic.

Nineteen

Sam jerked the wheel to his right in order to avoid the oncoming traffic and ended up back in their own lane.

“So what did you hear?” he asked.

“I don’t know if it’ll make any sense to you,” Jack said, his heart pounding away. “Where worlds collide.”

“Huh?”

“Where worlds collide. Does that sound familiar?”

“Can’t say it does.”

“It’s a place. Off of
Groves Road
. There’s like this huge field there. But, more importantly, there are some train tracks where it looks like two engines have collided...”