JACK KNIFED (11 page)

Drown It

Jack splashed water on his face and reached for the towel.

Terry. Terry who? She gets him killed and she can’t even tell me the last name of the guy who killed him?

After he dried his face, he looked in the mirror, and the towel fell out of his hands. He stared at his reflection and barely recognized himself: pale and gaunt, with dull black eyes set deep in his skull.

I have to get some sleep. I look like death.

Jack walked out of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Replacement had his phone in her hands and looked as if she wanted to kill him.

“What? I’m following your stupid rule, and I want to go to sleep.”

She held the phone up.

“I went to look at the report for Terry Bradford and saw this. You asked Cindy to run a background check on me?”

For a moment Jack froze, blinking.

Damn.

He shook his head. “No. We got in that fight about not knowing each other, and me not being like a brother to you, so I wanted to find out more about you.”

“So you had Cindy run a background check?”

“Yeah, I did. So? How else was I going to find out more about you?”

“How about asking? You could have…you should…” Replacement burst into tears, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

Damn.

Jack’s fist came down on the bureau, and something cracked. He grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door. He stomped down the stairs, out the front door, and straight to his car.

I’m going to get some sleep. One way or another.

Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he fought to drive out the thoughts that assaulted him. It didn’t work. Rage seethed inside him. Pain. Hurt. It was useless to fight it now.

I’ll kill it. I’ll drown it.

The drive to the bar they’d seen that morning was short. It was a hole-in-the-wall, single-room bar on a side road. Several cars and trucks were parked outside. Jack went straight through the door and paused for a second as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

He smiled.

My kind of bar.

There was one long bar with stools in front and four small tables along the wall. A man in his sixties with pale skin, yellowed teeth, and blank eyes stood behind the bar. Of the seven guys in the room, three looked toward the door but only for a moment. Jack headed to the far stool against the wall.

“Whiskey. Neat.” Jack slapped a handful of bills down.

The glass barely touched the wood before he downed it in one swallow.

“Again.”

He repeated the process three more times before he paused. The bartender hurried to the other end of the bar. Jack swirled his drink and smiled wryly.

I’ll sleep tonight.

No one came near him at the end of the bar. Jack kept throwing bills down, but his glass stayed full only momentarily. He didn’t talk. He didn’t look up. He just drank.

An hour later, Jack was ready to go. He licked his lips and closed one eye as he tried to figure out how many bills to leave. In the end, he let a few fall from his hands and stuffed the others in his pocket. The door at the front of the bar opened, and three men with green shirts and work boots walked through. Terry Bradford came in last.

It took Jack two tries to stand. One of the men looked at Jack and tapped Terry on the arm.

“Hey,” Terry called out. “Lookie who’s here. You lookin’ for me?”

Jack grinned.

The perfect end to a sucky day.

“Yeah.” Jack walked forward. “I’ve got something to ask. You said something about Patty.”

“Pump-me Patty? Yeah.” He laughed and nudged the guy next to him. “I bet a lot of guys can tell you about her. You want details? How she—”

Jack’s fist flashed out; blood erupted out of Terry’s nose and he staggered back. Jack kicked him in the chest and out the door. Barstools overturned, and men rushed to get out of the way. Someone tackled Jack from behind, and both of them tumbled outside. Terry had already started to get to his feet.

Jack hit the guy who’d tackled him in the groin. The man coughed and rolled onto his back. The other guy, who had come in with Terry, stood in the doorway but didn’t come down the steps. Jack struggled to his feet and wobbled in a half circle. Terry stood there, holding his nose.

Jack took two steps forward.

Terry pulled his hand down and snarled, “You piece of—”

The second punch caught Terry on the chin. His mouth closed with a pop, but he remained on his feet. Jack hit him again. His head snapped back, and this time he fell to his knees. Jack swayed and staggered. He grabbed Terry by the collar to gain his balance. The next punch caught Terry in the eye, and his head flopped to the side.

“Patty is my mother,” Jack snarled and hit him again. “Steven Ritter’s my father.” He hit him again. “Steven Ritter. Remember him now? Did you kill my father?”

He hit him again. Terry’s body went limp, and Jack had to struggle to hold him in that slumped position.

He’s out cold.

Jack hit him again.

“FREEZE!”

Jack looked up, and a young cop in his early twenties stood, shaking, before him. The lights from his cruiser made Jack blink, and the siren hurt his ears.

Am I that loud when I show up? That sucks.

Jack let Terry fall to the pavement. He staggered but remained on his feet.

“Hands up. Put your hands up,” the cop ordered, but his voice trembled.

When the hell did he get here?

Jack held up his arms and slowly stumbled around.

“Move away from…that guy.”

Terry groaned.

Jack smiled and lowered his arms.

“Keep your hands up.” His voice went high.

Lights and sirens blared as another car rushed to the scene. It was a white Crown Victoria with a bubble light attached to the roof.

Damn. That’s gotta be the chief.

“I need to put my arms down.” Jack shook his head.

A middle-aged cop in a white shirt approached, and Jack tried to keep his eyes focused.

“Kenny, put your gun away.” The older cop shook his head. “Cuff him while I check on Terry.”

Jack noticed the emblem on the older cop’s hat.

It’s the chief. Damn.

Terry sat up as the chief walked over to him. Kenny approached Jack, pulled him over to the cruiser, and turned him around. Jack relaxed against the cruiser and put his head down on the roof.

As the young policeman patted Jack down, Kenny suddenly screamed, “GUN!”

Everyone spun around at the word. Kenny held Jack’s gun and took two steps back.

“I’m a cop,” Jack muttered.

Kenny grabbed Jack’s hands and started to put cuffs on him.

“You didn’t finish patting me down,” Jack pointed out. “You should do that. Not that I’d…do anything. Your boss is watching.”

“Shut up,” Kenny snapped.

“I’m just trying to help,” Jack slurred. “You also shouldn’t hold my gun while you cuff me. If I wanted, I could just spin around, get your gun, and blow your head off.”

“Close your mouth.” Kenny struggled to cuff Jack while he held onto his gun.

“See, I’m drunk. Have you done this before, Kenny? Let me tell you…what you do is push me up against the car a little. Not like smashing my face, but you push the guy into the car, and it knocks the wind out of them and shuts them up.”

Kenny shoved Jack into the car, and Jack laughed.

“I said lightly but not like a daisy.” Jack snorted.

Kenny gave him a hard shove into the cruiser, which knocked the wind out of Jack.

“Good.” Jack coughed. “That was much better.”

“Who?” the chief yelled at Terry, who stayed sitting on the ground, while Kenny and Jack looked back at him. The chief stormed over to Jack. He was about five eight with a large potbelly. Sandy brown hair poked out from under his blue cap. The chief stared at Jack. As he searched Jack’s face, his eyes went wide. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

“What?” Jack shrugged.

The chief grabbed Jack’s wallet from Kenny. “Jack Stratton. You’re on the job? Darrington?”

“I was on the job. After this…bye-bye.” Jack waved.

“Is it true? You look just like him. Was Patty your mother?”

Jack nodded and hung his head.

“When Terry told me, I thought either he was crazy or you were but…wait here.” The chief walked back to Terry and helped him up. The men exchanged words and, even though Jack struggled to hear, he couldn’t. Terry’s face was swollen and bloody. Jack was surprised he was able to stand. After a few moments, the chief came back over and uncuffed Jack.

“Dennis Wilson. I was your dad’s best friend.”

Jack shook his hand but wobbled. “Jack Stratton.”

“What the hell are you doing, son?” Dennis put his arm around Jack’s shoulder and led him over to the passenger side of the cruiser.

“I’m drunk.”

“And stupid. Why the hell did you pick a fight with Terry?”

“Because I’m trying to fall asleep,” Jack muttered as he got in.

“Stay with me, Jack. Now, I got Terry to back off, but…” Dennis walked over to the driver’s side. He pulled the bubble light off the roof and stuck it back on the dashboard.

Jack tapped the light. “I have to get one for my car.”

“Good luck. They don’t make them anymore. That was my dad’s. Just like Starsky and Hutch.” He grinned.

Jack pressed the button, and lights flashed on and the siren filled the inside of the car. The chief fumbled with the switch and it shut off.

“Sit your ass back. You’ve caused enough problems tonight without making me hit a tree.”

“Sorry.” Jack snickered.

“Where are you staying?”

“Hope Falls Inn.”

“That’s close. You alone?”

“Noooo.” Jack laughed. “There’s a really pissed-off girl with me. She’s all mad. No. Now she’s all crying.”

“You must be a charmer. Why are you in Hope Falls?”

“I’m looking.”

“Looking?”

“For the guy who killed my father.”

Dennis leaned his head on the window for a moment. “Jack, we never found the guy. Why would you go after Terry?”

“’Cause I…I thought…he said something about…I felt like hitting him.” Jack shrugged.

Dennis laughed. It was a deep, big laugh. “Everyone wants to hit Terry sometimes, but you should know better than that.”

“I don’t know jack.” Jack’s head thumped against the window, and he laughed. “Get it? I don’t know me.”

“Why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you looking for your father’s killer now?”

Jack shrugged. “Replacement found the Internet,” he mumbled as he rubbed his face.

“What? Did you read about it or something?”

“In the newspaper. Cops have nothing. Cops did nothing.”

Dennis slammed the brakes on the car, and Jack caught himself on the dashboard, but his head thumped against the windshield.

“With all due respect to your father, shut up, or I’ll bust you in the head. My father worked that case. He worked it like it was his own son who got killed, so don’t you dare say that he didn’t do all he could.”

Jack leaned back against the window and turned his head to look at Dennis. The chief’s hand was clenched into a fist and his nostrils flared.

“Sorry. All I know is what I read in the stupid paper.”

“Well, you need the facts and not what you read in the funny papers. The paper here? Birds don’t even want to crap on it.”

“Facts? How do I get the facts? I tried to find out about her, but now she’s pissed.”

“Her who?”

“Replacement. She’s all…” Jack scrunched up his face and held up his hands like claws. “Roar. Angry. She cried. I hate that…”

“What the hell are you talking about, son?”