Jack Kursed (26 page)

She stopped in the middle
of the playground and flexed her right arm as hard as she could.
Jack made a show of squeezing her bicep and falling on the ground.
Other children, and even some of the parents, laughed. Some of the
single parents greeted him by name and batted their eyes as he
climbed to his feet.

He raised an eyebrow when
he saw Mrs. Jones leaning against the wall in Erica’s usual spot.
He approached the older teacher. She gave him a polite nod and
smiled down at Tiffany.

"Good morning, Miss March," Jones
said. She had a habit of giving a title even to young children.
"Ready to learn?"

"I guess so."

"Where’s Erica?" Jack
asked.

"Who?"

"Erica Hernandez."

"Oh, Miss Hernandez,"
Jones said, stretching out the name. It was obvious she didn’t like
the familiarity between Jack and the beautiful teacher. "I’m afraid
she’s out sick today."

"Substitute teacher!" Tiffany
shouted.

"Which means that you’ll
behave and not cause any trouble."

"Not even a little
bit?"

"Eh, maybe just a little,"
he said, just to see the look on Jones’ face.

Tiffany cheered and ran inside. Jack
turned to walk away, but Mrs. Jones addressed him.

"Mr. Kursed," she said.
"It seems to some of us that you and Miss Hernandez have gotten
close."

"Your point?"

She blinked, not expecting
Jack’s bluntness. "Well, you can tell just by looking at her that
she has a past. And with Tiffany being impressionable-"

"I don’t care about your
opinion of Erica or Tiffany, so keep it to yourself. Is there
anything else?"

Jones said nothing. Her mouth opened
to speak, but nothing came out. She could only manage a weak shake
of her head.

He left the stunned
teacher behind and climbed in his truck. It only took a few minutes
of browsing the net on his iPhone to find Erica’s home address. She
didn’t live too far from the beach, but on the other side of
town.

"I love technology," he said as he
pulled away from school.

It didn't take long to get
to Erica's side of Parkville. The beach traffic wasn't bad, but he
had to stop for the occasional group trying to make their way to
the sand on foot. It dawned on him that as long as he'd been caring
for Tiffany that they hadn't gone to the beach yet. He'd have to
fix that soon.

He studied Erica's house
as he parked outside her front yard. The outside was nice enough. A
simple Cape Cod with neatly trimmed bushes a well-kept yard. Her
hideous Jeep was parked in the driveway. The plastic on the Jeep's
shattered windows fought against the tape holding it in place as
the wind blew.

It took Erica nearly a minute to
answer the door.

"Jack? What the hell are you doing
here?"

He smiled at the sight of
her. She wore flannel pajamas and her hair was a mess. There were
bags under her eyes and a box of tissues in her hand. He could see
a couch over her shoulder, and various medicines scattered across
the coffee table.

"Holy shit. You look
terrible."

She rolled her eyes. "You're so
sweet."

"I just dropped Tiffany
off, and they said you were sick. She's at school right now being
taught by a strange woman."

"Well, now that you’re
here, I’ll heal in ten minutes."

He laughed. He told her
when they first met that the jury was out on her personality. The
jury was in now, and he found her to be a charming, sweet, caring
person. The complete opposite of him. The only thing they had in
common was a wicked sense of humor. She could easily keep up with
him and his sarcastic comments.

"What do you want?"

"I want to come in."

"I caught something pretty
bad. I’ll get you sick."

"Believe me, I doubt that."

She gave him a curious look before
stepping aside to let him in.

Jack could learn
everything there was to know about a person simply by being in
their house. There were no pictures of any friends, only an older
couple that had to be her parents. A few pictures were visible of
her spending time with her parents, but they were taken before she
had her scar. Despite her being sick, the house was neat and tidy,
with the exception of the coffee table. Warm, cozy colors. A
beautiful kitchen, but no dining room.

"Just stopping by for a visit?" she
asked as she settled on the couch. "This has nothing to do with my
legs or anything?"

Glancing at her coffee
table, he noticed she had no water. He went into her kitchen and
poured her a glass of iced water. She kept an eye on him the entire
time.

"Well, I always hope to
catch you in pair of running shorts or something." He handed her
the water, and she seemed truly surprised and grateful. "But not
this time. I usually relax a bit before working in the garden, and
figured I’d hang out with you."

"So, you don’t need an
invitation, don’t care that I’m sick. You just look me up and swing
on by."

"Yeah. I’m an asshole like
that."

She laughed and gathered
up her blanket so he had a spot to sit on the couch.

"You’re far from an
asshole. Honest, direct, funny. You try to put on that tough guy
image, but it doesn't always work."

He felt awkward at Erica
analyzing him, and gestured around them to change the subject.
"Judging from your pictures, you don’t know anyone at
all."

"I like my privacy."

"But you let me in. I feel so
honored."

"You should."

They were quiet for a
moment, just watching one another. He was aware at that moment they
were officially friends, a rare treat for him.

"So," he said, handing her the remote
control. "How many enemies do you have at school?"

She curled her legs up on the couch
and covered herself with a blanket. There was anger behind her
eyes.

"Let me guess. Jones?
McGillicuty?"

"Jones."

"That stupid bitch."

Jack smiled. Erica was just as direct
as he was.

"I’ve been teaching there
a few years now," she said. "And some of the teachers still think
I’m a crazy club-hopping bar-child. One night, one accident, and
it'll follow me around the rest of my life. Some of the parents
have their children pulled from my class. I hate this
scar."

"We’ve all got scars. You
just happen to have one on your face."

"I tried to grow my hair
long once, but the scar’s too far up to really cover."

"Don’t do that. Your hair
and scar…sexy."

She studied him. "You’re
serious, aren’t you? Every time at tutoring you've got some line
ready. But you’re not just making up lines, trying to see my
amazing legs?"

"The one thing you should
have learned about me by now is that I don’t make up lines. I don’t
lie. The last thing I want is bedtime with Tiffany’s teacher. But
yes, you’re beautiful." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And I find it
hard to believe I’m the only person who’s told you
this."

"You’re the only person I
believe."

They smiled at each other
and watched TV in comfortable silence. He fetched her a few things
from the kitchen. A glass of orange juice, and then a bowl of
oatmeal. She was appreciative and looked at Jack with affection in
her eyes, a look that was new to him.

He smiled when she settled
on the AMC Channel, his favorite. They were halfway through a John
Wayne movie when he turned to talk to her. Erica was fast asleep,
her head leaning back on the couch. Drool ran from her mouth and
dripped down her chin onto her shirt. She let out a noise that took
him a moment to recognize as snoring.

Jack watched her engage in
an activity that he hadn't experienced in two centuries. A mix of
emotions attacked him. Jealousy, bitterness, anger. But a few
surfaced he didn't expect. Amusement, peace. Erica was attractive,
even when drooling all over herself.

He realized he was getting
soft, a far cry from the person he was only a year ago. There were
two more people in his life he liked now, and had reconciled with a
vampire he thought of as family.

He lifted the blanket and
tucked it in around her. She let out a contented sigh and shifted
her head. Being as quiet as he could, he left her to rest, locking
the door behind him.

*****

Instead of driving home,
Jack headed toward the convenience store. It had been a few days
since he saw Mr. Soon and his wife. The couple was probably singing
and dancing in between customers. He wouldn't put it past them to
sing and dance in front of the customers. Jack didn't care, as long
as Soon still put together those killer sandwiches.

His irritation grew when
he saw four police cars parked in front of the store. Soon had a
bad habit of forgetting to activate the alarm. The store had been
broken into several times over the years.

"Dammit, Soon," Jack muttered as he
pulled into the lot. "It's four numbers. How hard can it
be?"

A police officer approached Jack as he
killed the engine.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you
can't-"

"This is my store," he interrupted. "I
own it. What happened, another damn robbery? Did Soon forget to
turn on the alarm again? The short little bastard."

The officer said nothing,
only gesturing with his head for Jack to follow. They walked up to
the door, but the officer held out his hand. Jack looked over the
officer's shoulder to see other police moving about the store,
taking pictures and talking in hushed tones amongst
themselves.

It wasn't just a robbery.

Another officer left the store, and
the two talked. Jack didn't hear a word they said. His eyes were
fixed on what looked like a pool of blood near the cash
register.

"Sir," the officer in charge said
again. "You work here? You're the owner?"

"Yes," Jack said, coming
to his senses. "This is my store."

"I see cameras in the corners. You
know how we can look at them?"

He nodded. "There's a computer in the
back."

Jack walked with the
officer through the store, keeping to the outside of the aisles.
There were no signs of Soon and his wife, only the pool of blood
and a small trail leading away from it. He led the officer to the
back office next to the bathroom and sat in front of the
computer.

The cameras recorded continuously,
writing to a DVD at scheduled times. Before the officer could get
settled Jack quickly slipped last night's DVD in his pocket. They
could still watch the recorded video from the hard
drive.

He had a choice of three
cameras, but picked the one pointing at the register. The night was
mundane for the most part. Customers came and went, and Jack's lip
twitched when Soon turned on his radio and danced with his wife. He
slowed the video down at that point, wanting to watch
them.

"What are they doing?" the officer
asked.

"Dancing. Don't you ever dance with
your wife?"

Jack's heart ached as they
danced, a feeling he hated. Even though the camera resolution
wasn't the best quality, he could still see the smile on Soon's
face, and his wife laughing.

He fast-forwarded the
video another hour, and saw a man in a dark hooded-shirt enter the
store. Mrs. Soon was behind the register. Mr. Soon was three aisles
away, near the milk, sweeping the floor. The man pointed a gun at
Mrs. Soon. As she dug through the register Mr. Soon ran in from the
right, holding the broom over his head. The man turned and fired
two times, hitting Mr. Soon in the stomach and chest. Mrs. Soon
leaned over the counter, only to be shot once in the
chest.

The man reached over the counter and
grabbed what he could from the register. He shoved money in his
pockets and walked out, careful to step over the pool of blood
spreading from Mr. Soon.

Jack was ready to leave
the room when he saw another flash of movement.

It was Mrs. Soon. She crawled from
around the counter, moving so slowly, trying to reach her husband.
She reached out and grabbed his hand, and his head moved slightly.
Jack could see they were talking to each other.

He would have given
anything to know what they said.

Mr. Soon stopped moving first. His
wife was only a few seconds behind, her head resting on his
shoulder, holding each other's hands.

He sped through the rest
of the video, but they didn't move again. A customer came in at
seven in the morning and ran from the store, presumably to call the
police.

"Thank you," the officer said quietly.
"I'm sure you're gonna have to give a statement, maybe come to the
station later."

Jack said nothing. The
officer walked him to his car and took his contact information. He
offered his condolences before going back to the store.