JACK KNIFED (18 page)

Christmas Roses

Jack jogged back around the pond. He was at the midway point, so he decided to keep going and complete the loop. The cool air on his face felt wonderful, and the rhythm of his feet on the path seemed to be urging him on. The pond’s surface was absolutely still. He looked at the treetops, and no wind blew the branches. As he rounded the bend to the rocks that looked like breasts, he slowed to a stop. On the left side of the path was a small clump of red and white flowers. Jack leaned down to examine them closely. The blooms almost looked like wild roses.

Wow. I know it’s been warm but…Replacement would love these.

Carefully, he picked half a dozen of the largest flowers. He stood up and admired the bouquet. With his prize in hand, he hopped up on the rock so he could stare out over the pond. The water was crystal-clear. As he peered over the side, he thought he could see at least fifteen feet down, but the bottom was still hidden. A familiar streak of air whizzed by his head, followed by a distant, loud crack. Jack’s muscles moved instinctively. He pitched forward on his belly as the roses fell from his hand. He rolled left and scrambled behind the rock. Another shot whooshed by, followed by another distant crack.

Shot came from the parking lot. Bad shot. I was a sitting duck.

Jack’s gun was in his hand. He was lying on his stomach with the rock between him and the shooter.

Rifle versus pistol—I lose. Run away or flank?

Jack smiled. No way was he running away. He looked at the slope of the ground and the small gully that would provide cover. He’d be exposed while he crossed the path, but the trees would obscure him for at least part of that. He sprinted to the left, staying low, and slid to a stop behind a large pine.

Nothing. No shot.

A large oak was twenty yards away. Forcing himself to do so, he exhaled slowly to get his breathing under control. He dashed forward to his next point of shelter, pressed his back against the rough bark, and listened.

Nothing. Damn. Now I don’t know where they are. Are they rabbiting or lining up a clear shot?

In the distance, he heard a car engine. Jack broke into a full run, but this time kept going until he was almost even with the granite marker. Through the trees, he could barely make out the parking lot and the flash of reverse lights from a car pulling out. His muscles strained, and his legs burned, but he sprinted as fast as he could for the road. Branches tore at his face and clothes, but he pushed on. Bursting out of the woods, he stumbled but remained on his feet. The fleeing car was a speck in the distance.

“Damn,” he screamed.

Frantically, he fumbled for his phone.

“This is Officer Jack Stratton and I—”

“Who?”

“Officer Jack Stratton. I’m out—”

“I don’t know an Officer Stratton.”

“Listen, lady. There was a shooting out at Buckmaster Pond. A car is fleeing—”

“What kind of car?” The woman’s voice was still a monotone.

Jack ran his hand through his hair.

“I don’t know, but—”

“We will send someone out. What’s your name, sir?”

He debated about running for the Impala, but the shooter’s car was long gone.

Jack waited almost twelve minutes before the first cruiser arrived. The young cop bounded out of the car but stopped when he saw Jack. It was Kenny, the cop he’d met when he beat up Terry.

Kenny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow as he approached Jack. “Are you the one who called this in?”

“Yeah. Someone took two shots at me with a high-powered rifle.”

“Did you see them?”

“No. I saw the car leaving, but I couldn’t tell what kind it was through the trees.”

“You didn’t see them?” Kenny stopped a few paces away from Jack.

“No.” Jack shook his head.

“How do you know they shot at you?”

“Kenny, you ever shoot a gun?”

“Of course.” Kenny took a step forward, but when Jack did the same, he quickly took a step back.

“Then you know a gun makes that bang-bang sound, right? I know when someone shoots at me.”

“How did you know it was a high-powered rifle?”

“The sound, Kenny. The sound, and the fact that I’m at those—”

The wail of sirens caused both men to turn as the chief’s Crown Vic rolled into the parking lot. Chief Dennis slammed the car into park. He stared at Jack, and his mouth opened and then closed.

“Did someone take a shot at you?” he growled as he jumped out of his car.

Jack nodded and walked over; Kenny followed right behind.

“He didn’t see who or even what they were driving.” Kenny held his hands up.

“I was over at the boob rock, or whatever the hell you call it, and someone took a shot at my head.” Jack glared at the young cop. “By the time I got to the road, the car was a little speck—”

“How do you know it was a car?” Kenny made a face.

“Wow. You’re right. Maybe it was a wagon pulled by a team of six horses, you jackass.”

“Enough.” Dennis held up his hands. “Kenny, go tell the station I got this.”

“Chief—”

“Now, son.” He exhaled and yanked his hat down on his head. Dennis pulled his stick-on light and siren off the roof and jammed it onto the dash. “You sure are a pain in the ass. I was having breakfast.”

“I’m a pain in the ass? I didn’t ask to get shot at.” Jack’s hands went out.

“No. I think you did.”

“What?”

“I might have an idea why someone took a shot at you.”

“What? Why?” Jack’s eyebrow arched even higher.

Dennis handed Jack a newspaper. He opened it up to the headline: “Hunting for His Father’s Killer—Policeman son has a new lead in the twenty-seven-year-old murder.”

“Damn.” Jack’s mouth fell open.

“You can say that again, Jack.” Dennis laughed and shook his head. “Do you just like being in the middle of a constant-crap cyclone? I read all about the college, and all the mess that you and your girl made there.” He held the paper out in front of him and read: “The son of Steven Ritter is set to break this cold case wide open with new information.”

“Is this paper just local?”

“Yeah, but you don’t think this story is going to get picked up? Do you have any idea what your Sheriff Collins is going to do? I made some phone calls, and he’s still neck deep in the crap you left behind.”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what, boy? You got some new evidence, and you don’t share it with me? I’ve got to read about it in the funny pages?” He tossed the paper back in the car. “I shared the reports with you. I said you could come to me. I offered to help. I told you to come to me if you had anything new. Do you?”

“I was going to. I—”

“When? When were—”

“Hold on. You’re the one who told me I had to go fishing out here before you’d talk to me. So—”

“Where’s your fishing stuff?”

“I went fishing yesterday.”

“Bull. You were too hungover—”

“Screw you. I went yesterday. I went right where you told me, and I caught a giant catfish. I just came out for a run today. Then I was going to go back to the inn before I came to see you.”

Dennis eyed him suspiciously, and then grabbed him around the shoulder.

“What the hell, boy? You scared the crap out of me. I knew it had to be you when I got the call. Where were you when they shot?”

“The rock that looks like breasts.”

“Let’s go.”

As Dennis walked, Kenny got out of his cruiser, but the chief waved him off. “We got this, Kenny.”

Jack couldn’t help but smirk as he walked by.

As they walked up the path, Jack glared down and muttered, “I’m going to go beat the snot out of Jeff Franklin when we get back to—”

“That’s using your head,” Dennis scoffed. “Go ahead and beat the hell out of a reporter. Real smart. You sure that guy didn’t blow your brains out with that shot?”

“It was off the record.”

“What the hell did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I said I was doing family research.”

“Well, you’re going to have to go buy a copy and read the pages of nothing. He wrote it up as a nice family affair. The son of a murdered boy, along with his wife—”

“Wife?”

“Alice.”

“I told him she’s not my wife.”

“He’s a reporter. A bottom feeder. Right up there with lawyers. Do you know the difference between a catfish and a reporter?”

“No.”

“One is a scum-sucking bottom feeder, and the other is just a fish.” Dennis laughed so hard at his own joke that he started to cough. “Live and learn, boy. Live and learn. Never talk to them. He said you had new information. What have you got?”

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

Jack stalled. Someone had just shot at him, and now everything was blowing up. The fewer people who knew information right now, the better.

“Think. You told him something.”

“Something slipped out when I was talking to him. He was going off about Patricia. Repl—Alice—tried to cut him off and told him Patty was my mother.”

Dennis stopped for a second. “Finding out Patty is your mother… Do you think that would be enough for him to run a whole story? Think, Jack. Did you say anything else? I need to solve this case too. My dad didn’t live long enough to solve it, and Steven was my best friend.”

“Maybe he’s just guessing I have something, and he thinks that’s why I’m here?”

“Well, he’s writing another article next week. He’s saying he plans on laying it all out.”

Jack’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Jack.” Replacement’s voice was strained. “You need to come back to the inn.”

“I will. I—”

“Now.”

“Is it about the paper?”

“How did you know? Did you see it?”

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay.”

Jack clicked the phone off. He looked onto the rock and saw that the flowers he picked for Replacement were still there. He jumped up and gathered them.

“Christmas roses?” Dennis asked.

Jack looked back. “Is that what you call them? I found them over there.” He pointed to the base of the tree.

“Where were you?”

“Right here.”

Dennis looked around and frowned. “One shot?”

Jack shook his head. “They fired again when I hit the ground.”

Dennis frowned and pulled out his radio. “Kenny, I need you to come down here. Titty Rock.” He moved to stand directly in front of Jack. “Before Kenny gets here and the flood of crap you bring with you descends on my town, I need to know you’re telling me everything.”

“Yes.” Jack met Dennis’s gaze for a moment and then walked straight back and started to look at the trees for the bullets that had passed by his head.

“You think the shots that missed headed through the trees? Maybe they went into the pond?” Dennis stayed on the rock and looked across the pond.

“Follow the line.” Jack pointed back toward the parking lot. “It’s a needle in a haystack, but if they did hit a tree, you’ll see it. Worth a quick look.”

After an hour of walking around and inspecting the tree trunks, Dennis stomped over to Kenny.

“I’m heading back to town. Give it another hour and then you can call it quits.”

Jack smiled. Kenny gave him the finger. Jack’s smile broadened. Dennis turned and stared at Jack.

After a couple of moments, Jack shrugged. “What’s up?”

Dennis shook his head. “When did you get that haircut? You look just like your old man.” He looked away and wiped his eyes. “Come on, kid. I gotta get back and answer the million and one phone calls that article is sure to produce.”

Jack looked over at him and stopped, startled. Dennis had a bunch of Christmas roses in his hand. They marched back up the trail in silence. Dennis walked over to Steven’s marker and laid the flowers in front of it. He stood back as he looked at Jack.