Jack Stratton: Jacks Are Wild Part 5

"Can I buy you a drink when you're done?"

"I'm working the late shift. I won't be done till seven in the morning."

"How about tomorrow night, then?"

Replacement will get ticked off...

Jack inhaled. "Sure, where?"

"The Boar's b.u.t.t?"

"Eleven thirty?"

"Yeah. I'll save a table."

As Jack walked out of the station, he stopped at the top of the steps. Billy Murphy was pulling out of the parking lot. Not only was Billy going out on patrol, but the police cruiser he was driving was the Dodge Charger that Jack loved.

When Murphy saw him, he stopped momentarily. He looked at Jack, and then smugly sneered before he peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the street. Jack stood there, burning. It was like watching your girl walk away with a guy you know is a sc.u.mbag.

Sorry, baby.

As Jack started his patrol, he went straight to the tattoo parlor. A tall, lanky guy stood behind the counter. His head was shaved on one side, with long black hair on the other. He went a little pale when Jack walked in, but he nodded.

"Hi. I'm looking for Marisa."

"Not in."

"What time do you expect her?"

The guy tilted his head to the side and spread his hands out on the counter. "She's the boss and...it's Marisa...who knows?" He shrugged.

Jack nodded.

He's right. Marisa goes where and when she wants.

"Can you tell her I stopped by?"

"Sure." The guy grabbed a pen and scribbled a note.

"Has she been in today?" Jack asked.

"Nope."

"Thanks."

The bell over the door chimed and three kids, who Jack was certain were too young for tattoos, talked excitedly as they entered. When they saw Jack in his police uniform, they nearly fell in a pile as they scrambled and backed out of the door. The guy behind the counter laughed. Jack walked out the door and watched the kids jostle one another down the sidewalk. His mood darkened as he looked down at his watch.

I should go by her apartment. She could at least call...

He shot a sideways look up at the stars and then started his beat again.

By eight p.m., Jack was walking along the outskirts of downtown. He looked at the big old houses packed together along the tree-lined street. The lawns were always perfectly manicured, even in the winter. If a car was in one of the driveways, it looked as if someone had just driven it off the dealer's lot. He twisted his hands and cracked his wrist. Having grown up poor, Jack had to watch that he didn't slip into an automatic dislike of people of means.

The people in those houses worked hard for their money. Some of them, anyway.

Jack gazed up and down the street. A car up ahead stood out like a sore thumb. The big, old, brown sedan was parked haphazardly in front of a large colonial.

Mrs. Sawyer is out and about. The drivers and pedestrians of Darrington had best be careful.

He crossed the street and saw the car's owner, Mrs. Sawyer, descend a new handicap ramp on the side of the house. She waved when she noticed him.

"Jackie, it's so good to see you."

He walked over to her, gratefully accepting a hug. The faux fur on her thick brown coat tickled his nose as he gingerly hugged her thin frame.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Sawyer. How's the General?"

"He's doing well. He doesn't like the cold, but there are plenty of mice to catch inside now." She made a big show of frowning. Jack laughed.

"And how are you?"

"I'm well. I'm visiting my good friend, Madeline Hopkins." She held out a gloved hand toward the colonial. "She fell and broke her hip. We used to go to Finnegan's every Sunday for brunch, but she hasn't been able."

"That's too bad."

"She's doing much better and, now that she had them put this ramp in, she'll be up and about lickety-split."

Jack looked at the new ramp and then down to the sign on the lawn: A-PLUS CONSTRUCTION. His hands balled into fists.

A-Plus is Murphy's moonlighting business. If he made this thing, it will probably implode and kill someone.

Jack looked up and down the ramp with a scowl. He took a few steps to the right, glaring at the untreated lumber and joists even he could tell were s.p.a.ced too far apart.

"What's wrong, Jackie?"

"A guy I know made this ramp and he did a pi-" Jack cleared his throat, "a poor job of it. He should have used pressure-treated lumber and the joists are off. Look at the supports." Both his hands went out. "The cement is already cracking."

"Is he a friend of yours?" Mrs. Sawyer's words were clipped.

"A friend?" Jack snapped. "No. He's a jerk."

"Well, that's a good thing." She turned around and grabbed the railing. "I'm going to go tell Madeline everything you just said and insist she get a full explanation."

Jack stood there for a moment as what he'd done, and to whom, sunk in. He nodded while he suppressed a smile.

"I don't mean to alarm you, Mrs. Sawyer, but you should also be aware the brackets on the railing you're holding are interior brackets." Jack shook his head. "They could pull right out from the wall."

Mrs. Sawyer gasped as she let go of the railing. "I'm going to insist that man rip this whole deathtrap down and do it again properly."

"That's what I'd do." Jack nodded. "But he can be pretty stubborn. If he says he won't do anything, you may have to call the town business board."

"I'm going to do more than that. I'm going to call the inspector's office."

"Good thinking."

Her eyes went wide as she clicked her tongue. "And they have that special news segment. They're doing it now. You know the one? The one with the TV girl reporter, the little brunette who wears too much eyeliner. She asked for stories about people taking advantage of the elderly. Well, now she's going to get one. Thank you, Jackie."

"Just watching out for the people of the community." He waved as she headed back up the ramp.

Sticking it to Murphy had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

Jack walked away, whistling.

Was?

It was almost eleven when he looked in the door of the tattoo parlor for the fifth time. The tall, lanky guy was still there. He shook his head and held out his hands when he spotted Jack. Jack opened the door and quickly stuck his head in.

"She's still not here." The tall guy shrugged as he made a face to a short girl dressed in all black, with black eye shadow, who sat at the end of the long counter.

"Did she call?"

"Nope."

Jack's phone buzzed so he let the door swing shut as he walked back onto the sidewalk. It was a text from Replacement.

U TALK TO MARISA YET? I NEED PICS!!.

That dumb graffiti job. Maybe the stupid nightmare is just freaking me out. I'll finish my shift, go back to the station, fill out the paperwork, and then go to her apartment. She probably started a new painting and got sucked into it.

Jack's heels clicked as he marched down the sidewalk. At the intersection, he looked to his left and saw Thaddeus near the entrance of the alley. He rocked back and forth, from one foot to the other. He brought both of his hands behind his head as he turned in Jack's direction.

Jack waved. Thaddeus ran. Jack was so surprised he stood there for a moment and looked at the now empty entrance to the alley.

Why would...?

Thaddeus's words rang in Jack's head: "Ms. Vitagliano is a very nice lady."

Jack's feet pushed against the concrete as he flew forward like a sprinter off the block. He covered the short distance to the entrance of the alley in ten long strides, just missing the wall as he rounded the corner. Thaddeus was just ahead, but ran as fast as his long coat would allow.

Jack surged forward and bellowed, "FREEZE."

His voice was so loud in the narrow alleyway it echoed off the bricks. Thaddeus froze. Jack slowed to a walk and put his hand on his gun.

"Turn around slowly and let me see your hands." Jack stopped.

Thaddeus turned, and raised two shaking hands. One look at his face, and Jack knew they weren't shaking out of fear.

He's ticked.

"Thaddeus, what's wrong?"

"You. You and the corrupt inst.i.tution that's been designed to 'protect and serve.' Serve? Ha. Protect?" He spat on the ground. Jack angled his body slightly as he held up a hand.

It could just be another one of his rants.

"Can you give me a little more to go on here, Thaddeus?"

"I told you that girl was the sweetest thing."

Jack went suddenly cold.

Was?

"Marisa?"

Thaddeus nodded.

"What about Marisa?"

As Thaddeus let his hands drop to his sides, the anger fell from his face. "I tried." His voice was now soft and his shoulders slumped.

"Where's Marisa?" As Jack said the words, bands tightened around his chest.

This is not happening. She's fine.

Thaddeus shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I told them what happened."

"Who? Who did you tell?" Jack took two steps forward.

"The police. I told them, but...YOU LAUGHED AT ME," he screamed in Jack's face, and Thaddeus's whole body went so rigid it vibrated.

Calm. Soften your body language. Non-threatening.

Jack tried to invoke his training, but instead threw it out the window. He leaned in and growled, "You're not going to yell anymore. Got it? Now, when did you last see Marisa?"

Thaddeus shrank down. "Last night. I was coming to get a ham sandwich. Ms. Vitagliano told me she'd have one for me, but there was a car near the back door."

"What kind of car?"

Thaddeus scratched his beard. "Silver. Four doors."

"Did you notice the make of the car? Ford? Chevy? Honda?"

He shook his head. "I saw two guys come out of Ms. Vitagliano's, and then I hid."