Girl Jacked (18 page)

It was a quiet tree-lined neighborhood and the small, yellow, and white ranch fit right in. There was an old red Honda sedan parked in the driveway. Jack pulled in behind it and parked. He walked up a curved brick walkway to a red door with a big, pine wreath on it.

Jack rang the doorbell and waited. Someone yanked open the door. Mike Leverone stood smiling in the doorway. At least Jack thought he was smiling.

Look him in the eye and don’t look away.

Mark Reynolds had not provided enough information regarding Mike’s accident. The fire had scarred and burned his entire face. A baseball cap covered his head but the rest of his face was extremely difficult to look at.

“Jack, I guess?”

Jack had been a soldier and had seen more than his share of horrifying accidents but one look at Mike and he wondered how he had survived.

“Jack Stratton.” He reached forward and his hand closed around Mike’s prosthetic hook.

“Mike Leverone,” the man smiled and nodded his head. “You’re good. You didn’t even flinch at the hook.” He turned and Jack followed him in.

The living room was clean and tidy. There wasn’t a spot of dust anywhere. Jack felt like he was in a model home because everything seemed so meticulously placed and arranged.

There was an enormous TV against the wall and facing it was a large couch. To the right was a black leather chair. The wooden floor in the entryway led to a gray carpet that headed off into the living room. The carpet stopped before the kitchen on the left.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t get many visitors.” Mike held out his hand for Jack to sit in the leather recliner.

If a man’s home is his castle, then his recliner is his throne.

Jack nodded his head at the gesture as he sat down.

Mike grinned. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“I don’t have any alcohol. I’m on probation so I stay squeaky clean. Coffee?”

“All set really.”

“Give me a minute then.”

Mike wandered into the kitchen to a huge coffeemaker, reaching into a cupboard for a new cup. His sweater sleeve slipped down, allowing Jack a long glimpse at the scars underneath.

“Sure I can’t get you one?” Mike asked, turning. Jack quickly pretended to be checking out the magazines that were stacked in a neat square on top of the coffee table.

“No, I’m good.”

Jack saw Mike shrug his shoulders, pour himself a cup, and then come back in to sit on the couch.

“On the phone you said that you had some questions about meth and White Rocks?”

“I do. I was told that you had knowledge about the meth situation there. I need some help… The reason I’m here… Can I ask you to keep this confidential?”

“Is this the face of a talker?” Mike laughed as he pointed to his scarred features.

Defense mechanism. Self-deprecation. Laugh.
Jack smiled.

“Unfortunately, I’m here because I’m looking into a murder. The autopsy showed that they had meth in their system. There is reason to believe that the victim didn’t do drugs. We think someone forced them to take it and then killed them.”

“Forced them?”

Jack paused. He was trying to read Mike’s face. He thought that maybe he raised an eyebrow but he didn’t have any.

“Could someone have tricked them into taking it? Slipped it in a drink?”

Mike shook his head. “No. You can parachute it but if you put it in a drink it is really bitter.”

“What are the ways to do meth?”

“You could parachute, which is swallow. Snort, like coke. Smoke it. Slam it. You know shoot it like heroin or booty bump.”

Jack winced. He wasn’t going to ask about the last way.

“If someone was going to force someone else to take it, how would they?”

“I’d think shoot it up.”

“If someone does meth, do they get the effects right away?”

“Not necessarily. It depends on the person. The way you take it affects the speed and strength too. Smoking is the fastest and gets you off quickest.”

“Did you know Carl Finn?”

“Yeah. Good guy. We were in some classes together.”

“What happened to him?”

“He sampled. One time. He thought spiders were in his brain. He used a nail gun to get them.” Mike pantomimed the scene out as he spoke, holding his prosthetic hook up next to his temple and then jerking his head to the side.

Jack shuddered.

“He only sampled it once?”

“All it takes.”

“How hard is it to make?”

“Hard?” Mike snorted. “It’s not. Anyone can make it.”

“Anyone?”

“If you have the internet, you can figure it out. I learned at college.”

“College? White Rocks?”

“Dr. Franklin’s class. Will Franklin. He taught us how.”

“He taught you?”

“Step by step. It gave me the idea. I thought he was a hero until I blew apart my life.”

Jack glanced at the hook where a hand would otherwise be as Mike gestured wildly.

“Why did he teach kids how to make meth?”

“Showing off? Midlife crisis? Power to the people? Who knows? It was my fault for doing it.”

“What went wrong?”

Mike shrugged. “The whole process is super combustible. You can see videos on the net. With me, it was solvents. I think. I was hurrying and I left the cover off. Making meth is fire and explosive fumes. They mixed and boom! Fire all over.”

Jack remembered the phosphorus bombs and swallowed.

Is that what happened to Mike? If Chandler hadn’t broken down that door…

Jack could still see the blue and white flames swirling together before turning crimson.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Mike leaned forward and Jack nodded.

Silence descended on the room as the men replayed the flames in their own minds. Jack closed his eyes and rubbed them with his hands.

“What does Franklin teach?”

“Psychology. I was taking ‘Drugs, Youth, and the Mind.’ He’s into imaging.”

“Like pretending?”

Mike laughed hard. “Not imagining, ‘IMAGING.’ Pictures. He takes pictures of your mind, with computers.”

Jack grimaced. This was the second time this morning someone spoke to him as if he was stupid and it pissed him off.

“I just heard about that. Is that with the fMRI?”

I think that’s what he called it.

“At the Center? Yeah. They hook you up and take images of your brain. They give you different drugs and watch your head. They make you take off all your rings and stuff.” He pointed at his earring that hung off what was left of his ear. “I was nervous when I first went in. I heard this story of this guy who was harpooned by a chair that flew up and crashed into the machine. It was something to do with the metal.”
 

“Because of the magnets?”

“Something like that.”

“Do they give you meth?” Jack sat up.

“Sort of… You can get a prescription for ADHD and stuff like that. They do studies at the school and I think they used it. That was a while ago. Anyway, the pill is super low dose. A regular street hit would be like a month’s worth of prescription.”

“So you can legally get meth? That’s messed up.”

“Not really. It’s way harder to get the legal stuff than the street stuff.”

Jack paused. “One last question, anyone at the college that I should talk to that could have given it to the victim?”

Mike shook his head and held his hand up. “Almost anyone. I haven’t heard about anyone stepping up after Carl and me. There’s still too much attention for one guy to setup shop but you can still get it. You just have to ask.”

“Did you know a Lennie Jacobsen?”

“A Lennie?”

“Lennie-J? He may have been a runner.”

Mike shook his head and looked down at his feet. “Meth attracts people like flies to garbage; hangers-on and wannabes.” He stared down at the floor and swallowed. “For a while I felt like a rock star with all my groupies. But they were just kids… Who knows what I turned them into? I burned myself on the outside but they got burnt on the inside. I didn’t even know most of their names.” He looked up at Jack and his chin trembled.

Jack tried but he couldn’t keep his gaze. He stood up to leave. “Thank you for your time.”

“Oh, okay.” Mike looked disappointed.

“If you hear anything please give me a call.”

“Sure. If I can help at all, you can just stop by. I can’t go anywhere and I don’t get many visitors.” He lifted up his pant leg and Jack saw the ankle monitor.

“Thanks for your time.”

“Anytime.” Mike followed him to the door and stood in the open doorway waving with his prosthesis as Jack drove away.

Jack looked up at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

That could have been me.

He whispered to his dead friend; “Thanks buddy.”

Jack came home late afternoon, and Replacement almost bowled him over when he walked in the door. “Where have you been? What happened?”

“Give me a second, kid.” He walked past her into the apartment.

“Does your phone work? Can’t you hear it ring? I’ve been trying to get you all day!” she whined as she followed right behind him.

He pulled it out. It was off. He shrugged a sorry and she glared.

“You didn’t check your phone? I was worried. I wanted to know…”

“Shut up!”

She slammed both hands into his shoulders, though he could tell that she held back. “You shut up! I’ve been waiting…”

“Okay. Get me a drink while I get ready for work and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m not your wife. Get your own–”

“You’re nagging at me like a wife so get... Fine.” Jack paused and closed his eyes for a second. “I went out to the Center this morning. I got the full tour from this pretty boy… Brendan Phillips. I didn’t get any major bad vibes off him though. I didn’t get much of anything but I’m going back for another look in a couple of days.” Jack left off about looking up Dr. Franklin.

“Can I go with you?”

“Last time didn’t go too well. Remember Missy?”

“Funny you brought her up…” Replacement walked over to the computer.

“Funny how?”

“Well, remember how you thought she was lying about Michelle?” She looked back at him. “I thought that if we pushed a little more…”

“Pushed? I didn’t say push. I said back off!”

“It’s not a big deal. I just sent an email…”

Jack marched over to his computer. Replacement backed away. She opened her mouth but closed it when he shot her a look.

“Login.” He pointed at the laptop.

“Me?”

“You sent it?”

“Well… it kind of came from… you.” Her eyes grew large.

“You sent it from MY account?”

“I thought it would look more intimidating if it came from you…”

“I don’t want to be intimidating.” He logged into his computer and email and switched to his sent folder.

‘DEAR MS. LORTON. PLEASE BE OFFICIALLY NOTIFIED THAT WE ARE CONTINUING TO LOOK INTO THE MURDER OF MICHELLE CAMPBELL. IT IS OUR HOPE THAT YOU WILL CONTACT ME REGARDING ALL INFORMATION THAT YOU HAVE CONCERNING THIS CASE. SINCERELY, OFFICER JACK STRATTON.’

“Did you lose your mind? Do you know what she is going to do? You even included my cell phone.”

“She didn’t go to the cops before. This might shake her up. She might…”

“Yeah, she might go to the police now. But she’ll go about me!” Jack pulled the plug out of the back of the computer. “Stay off it.” He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Later that night, Jack was pulling traffic duty on the night shift.

Penance.

He shrugged as he zipped up his jacket and walked over to the work detail. They had been working on this highway since Jack started on the force, leisurely making their way from exit to exit.

They’ve barely done two exits in the last 6 months. What a waste.

The smell of hot tar filled the air. There always seemed to be tar ready for pouring, but Jack didn’t think it was worth the stench. The odor clung to everything it touched and Jack was sure that he would smell it for days.

It was just warm enough for the water not to freeze into snow. A light mist fell and the drops glistened under the enormous arc lights. The pavement glittered with the mix of colors reflected off it.

Officer Tom Kempy waved and smiled at him. He was a little older than Jack was, and always seemed happy. Married, three kids and he loved life.

“Hey Jack.” Tom trotted up to him. “Billy said they are making good progress and should be done by 4.”

4 am.
Jack frowned.
It is freezing and pulling traffic duty on the night detail blows.

“It’ll go by fast.” Tom slapped him on the arm and then started jogging for his car.

“Say hi to Amy and the kids,” Jack called after him.

Tom turned back around. “If you ever want to come over for dinner…” Tom’s words started to trail off.

“I would love to but don’t worry, I won’t bring a date.”

Tom exhaled and smiled. “Okay. Great! Sure. I’ll find out when and let you know.” He waved and ran for his car.

Jack laughed. He had brought a date to the Christmas party. Gina. He didn’t know that it was more of a conservative event for the police and all of their families. Tom had been there with his wife, Amy, and all their kids.

The next thing Jack knew, Gina had bribed the DJ to play some spicy music and then she started dancing. She cleared the dance floor as her drunken salsa began looking more and more like a striptease. She started blowing air kisses to Jack. When her hand slipped to the shoulder strap of her dress, he rushed in, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her out. He could still remember the look on Amy’s face as he walked by. Gina was vividly describing all the erotic things she wanted to do to him. Jack didn’t know whose face was redder, his, or Amy’s but they were both very embarrassed.

Yeah. Definitely no date.

Five hours later Jack felt like time had stopped. He was standing on the side of a highway, freezing and bored. A car came by every twenty minutes to a half an hour.

I can’t wait to get home!

Jack watched as stars began to peek out from between the breaks in the clouds.

Replacement was trying to get her schedule to match his. She would wake up when he did and try to stay up until he returned, even on days when he was pulling a double. It was driving him crazy, but he had to admit that he also liked it. She kept going over and over all the information from the phone. The emails were driving her crazy because they were so dull and there were so many of them. Even now, she was still going through them, studying each line, each word in case there was a little piece of information that could hold some relevance.

He wanted to go look up the information on that Lennie kid but he was stuck outside directing traffic. Maybe he could email Replacement and get her to look it up.

Email!

Jack was still ticked that she had sent the email to Missy.

What the hell was she thinking? That Missy was going to confess to having a hand in Michelle’s death? Most likely, she will be going to a lawyer. The lawyer will call Collins. Collins will go mental and I’m screwed. How screwed? I do have a police delegate. That won’t matter. Collins will give me this job every shift. No training and I’ll have the night shift on traffic detail or he’ll assign me to paper filing and answering the phone for the rest of my career. Thanks Replacement.

He waved as a car made its way down the lane of cones.

And Replacement. What am I going to do about her? She won’t take the bed and she can’t sleep on the couch forever. I can’t kick her out. I’ll have to get a two-bedroom place.

 Jack started laughing. It wasn’t a little laugh but a big sidesplitting howl.

A couple of guys that were talking to the bobcat operator stopped and looked at him.

He held up his hands in a ‘forget about it’ gesture. He was thinking about Missy Lorton rolling into her kitchen squealing. She must have died when she got Replacement’s email.

Jack had a second to react as he heard the car behind him speeding up. He turned and saw the headlights coming straight at him. The engine revved as the driver jammed down the gas pedal. Everything slowed as his adrenaline kicked in.

He tried to jump.

Too late. Pain. Protect your head.

The bumper had slammed into his thigh, and he was crashing into the windshield now
.
His back exploded, a million fires burning. Glass sliced into his shoulder.

Still spinning.

For a second, he was looking at the stars. They were beautiful. They sparkled. He continued spinning around and he could see the arc lights reflecting in the water on the road. The lights twinkled and danced. His feet were going over his head. He could hear swearing from the guys at the bobcat.

Not back into the road!

He realized that he would be landing back on the highway. Jack thought about a guy that was hit by a car and then run over three more times.

He was clear of the car, but he was still spinning.

Hold your head
.

His left arm cradled his head, but his right just flopped, useless. He saw the car that hit him swerve back onto the road and keep going.

He landed feet first on the pavement then on his back and then his head. His left hand cushioned some of the impact, but everything flashed for a second and his eyes flew wide open. Pain. Pain everywhere. He burned like a match held upside down.

Roll
. He commanded himself but his body wouldn’t respond.

Jack’s eyes fluttered and he tried to focus on the men running toward him. He could see them, but his ears didn’t seem to be working. Everything was dimming.
Then it went black.