Girl Jacked (21 page)

Jack's shirt clung to him like a damp towel. He shifted his assault rifle in his arms and continued to scan the crowd.

A lot of people were moving by their checkpoint. The families going home chattered back and forth. Besides the heat, the feeling was upbeat.

He turned to Chandler. “Are you hot?”

“Yeah.” A cocky grin spread across his big friend’s face as he nodded his head. “That’s what all the ladies say.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!” Chandler shot back. “It’s 200 degrees out. What a stupid question. I’m about to spontaneously combust!”

Chandler laughed and finished off another bottle of Gatorade.

Jack turned to look at the approaching crowd. Something was wrong. People talked all around but a strange pocket of silence approached them. He scanned the faces and noticed the source of the silence. A woman dressed in a black burqa was walking with a little girl dressed in the same head-to-toe black dress. He could only see their eyes because of the slit on the front. Other than that, they were covered.

Many women wore burqas but there was something wrong with this pair. The mother kept the girl at arm’s length away from her as they walked.

“Chandler. One o’clock.” Jack nodded toward the approaching pair.

Chandler stood next to Jack on the left. His smile vanished when he saw them approaching.

“The mother is freaked.” Jack’s chin tipped up. “She is probably being forced to wear a vest and is trying to keep the little girl out of the way. Can we separate them?”

“I can get the girl,” Chandler said as he started walking towards the edge of the crowd.

Jack moved to the right.

Chandler looked back and Jack nodded. Chandler kept moving.

The crowd kept shying away from the pair. The mother and daughter picked up the pace as a pocket formed around them.

Jack looked at the girl. Judging by her height, she was 6 or 7. He could see her rich brown eyes. They gleamed. She was happy. She had no idea of the danger she was in.

Jack watched the mother. Her eyes darted all over but she never looked directly at Jack. He glanced over and saw Chandler making his move. His friend took two huge strides, scooped the little girl up in his arms, and headed back to the checkpoint.

“STOP!” Jack commanded in both Arabic and English. “Hands up!”

The mother watched as Chandler carried her daughter away. She then turned back to look at Jack. He saw her eyes as they changed from fear to relief and then as the relief changed to a look of hate.

“Hands up!” he shouted again at her as the crowd scrambled for safety. With his finger on the trigger, Jack hesitated. He had never shot a woman before. She began to raise her arms up slowly.

It was then Jack realized his mistake.

He saw the large hands of a man.

It wasn’t a mother worried for her daughter. It was a man worried for his own safety. He was scared because it was the little girl who had been forced to wear the ‘suicide’ vest.

“CHANDLER!” Jack yelled.

Chandler looked back at Jack as he cradled the little girl in his big arms. Their eyes met for a second before the white flash.

The explosion knocked Jack to his knees. His hands hit the dirt. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see clearly and his ears rang. His fingers clawed the ground in front of him. The hard dry ground had now turned soft.

He opened his eyes and stared down at gray carpet with black flecks. He gazed at the pattern that he was sure that he had seen before but couldn’t place where.

The funeral home.

Jack stood up. He was at the funeral home where they held Michelle’s service. Chandler stood at the rear near an open coffin. He was wearing his dress uniform and tears rolled down his face. His arm was around Michelle’s shoulder. She wore her long hair pulled back and she had on a simple charcoal dress. She glanced back and she was crying too.

Jack staggered forward. They were both gazing into a coffin. It was purple and white with pink flowers.

Aunt Haddie? No…

It felt like he was walking through knee-deep mud as he forced himself to keep moving forward. Chandler glared back at him and Michelle wept.

“My babies!” The cry behind him caused him to turn around.

Aunt Haddie stood in the doorway of the funeral home. She looked even frailer as she took small steps forward.

“My babies!” she cried as she raised her hands out. “All of my babies are gone!”

Jack turned back around and raced to the coffin. Replacement’s body lay inside. Her emerald green eyes were now grey and lifeless. Her mouth was frozen in a twisted scream. Her eyes had been taped open.

“Alice! No… ALICE!”

Replacement was shaking him. She was saying something but he couldn’t hear clearly. His trembling hands gripped the back of his head. He gasped for air.

“Jack? Jack?” Replacement held his shoulders at arm’s length. “It’s just a dream. You were dreaming. You must have taken a nap.”

Jack grabbed her and pulled her close. He was panting but he still crushed her to his chest. He straightened his arms and looked at her.

Concern filled her eyes.

“You’re okay. It was just a dream,” Jack muttered and stood up.

He swayed like a drunken sailor as he turned around.

“I just walked in and you were… yelling my name.” Alice looked up at him.

“I’m sorry.” Jack shuffled into the kitchen and looked at the clock, 8:15 pm.

Damn!

“I need my car.” Jack rubbed his eyes.

“What? Why?” The color drained from Replacement’s face. “I was going to borrow it tomorrow too!”

“You can. I’m meeting a guy tonight. Hey… how is the website job going?” He tried to smile.

“Good. It’s nothing special.” Replacement followed him into the kitchen. “They need some updates. Nothing big. Who are you meeting?”

“Guy’s name is Hank Foster. I also got the name of the guy on the tape. Charlie Harding. Hank Foster reported him missing.”

“Good work. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. The problem is that Hank Foster also reported a girl named Tiffany McAllister missing five months ago.”

“He reported both of them missing? Are you sure that you have the guy from the tape?”

“Yeah. I found out the video was filmed a year ago. That narrowed down the field.”

“Nice work.” Replacement smiled.

“I need to ask Hank about Tiffany. She showed up dead. Then I’m going to ask about Charlie. Keys?”

She handed him the keys and he grabbed his jacket.

“What about your crutches?”

“I need to strengthen the leg,” he called back.

Replacement shut the door and hurried to catch up to him.

“You’re not coming. Go get something to eat.”

“What? No. I’ll drive!”

“No.” Jack stopped and turned to her. “You can’t come. Don’t even try.”

“I can help.” She raised herself up on her toes.

“No. Listen. It’s not happening.” Jack shut his eyes and the images from his dream flashed into view. “Seriously, no.” Jack tried to soften his voice but he knew it still came out cold and angry.

Replacement didn’t say anything. She turned and went back to the apartment.

Jack pulled up in front of the small VFW hall. Twenty to thirty cars were in the parking lot. He headed for the main door. There were a few people outside who were smoking cigarettes. Jack scanned their faces. Hank Foster’s last mug shot was ten years old but he didn’t appear to be one of the smokers huddled next to the building.

Jack opened the door and looked at the scattered people. It was a medium sized room and folding chairs had been set up in neat rows. Less than a quarter of them had someone sitting in them. It was your typical AA meeting. He picked a half-empty row and sat.

A man at the front was speaking about how he stayed sober. Jack didn’t pay too much attention to him at first. He was looking at a man seated three rows from the front next to a column. The man was ten years older but he was sure that he was watching Hank Foster.

“How many people right now want to drink?” A flurry of hands went up across the room, and then the man speaking raised his own hand. “I do. The problem is that I won’t stop. I’ll just keep going. I drink because I am a drunk.”

The man behind the podium had everyone’s attention now including Jacks. “There is only one way that I have stayed sober. How? My higher power? Get real. That self-righteous crap doesn’t keep you sober. I know what power is and it ain’t me, it's God pure and simple. He keeps me on track one day at a time, moment by moment. But…
He
expects you to step-up, 12 steps exactly. Don’t drink, work the program, and ask for help. That’s how I have stayed sober for fifteen years.”

Jack shifted in his seat.

After he finished, there was a small round of claps as an older man rose and moved next to the podium.

“Ten minute break. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em!”

People stood up and filed for the doors. Jack’s eyes stayed on Foster. He rose and shook a woman’s hand. He watched them talk. After a few minutes, he headed for the back door too. Jack moved right behind him.

Jack walked out the door and onto the big porch filled with smokers.

“Hank?”

Hank Foster turned to stare at Jack. He was in his forties but he looked older. Rough. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His hair was predominantly gray but black streaks still ran through it. A full beard and mustache partially covered his pockmarked face. The well-worn leather jacket seemed too large for his slim frame.

“You the cop that called?”

Jack got the feeling that Hank wanted to talk alone and his saying ‘cop’ as loudly as he did had the desired effect. Everyone else left the porch, leaving the two of them alone.

“I am.”

“What did you find out about Tiffany?”

“You are aware that she’s dead?”

“Yeah. Who do you think paid for the funeral? You got anything new on her?” The man took a step forward.

Jack’s rear foot shifted and he let his center of gravity drop lower. The veins in Hanks neck began to stand out and he clenched his jaw. Jack could see that Hank was trying to control his anger but it also appeared that Hank was losing that struggle.

This could break bad.

“No. I was calling about Charlie Harding but you brought up Tiffany. Do you file a lot of missing person reports?”

Hank took a drag off his cigarette and Jack noticed he switched hands when he took it back out his mouth.

He is a righty. His cigarette is now in his left hand. He is getting ready to punch.

“I filed two.”

“One of them is dead. I’m concerned for the safety of the other.”

“Me too, that’s why I filed the missing person’s report.”

They stood staring at each other for a moment and then Foster relaxed.

“So you still have nothing. Jeez!”

“How did you know Tiffany?” Jack asked.

“Man. I try to do the right thing and I get looked at?” Hank flicked his cigarette off the porch.

“If you want to do the right thing, just answer a couple of questions.”

“Fine.”

“How did you know Tiffany?”

“I was her sponsor.”

“I thought AA didn’t allow different sex sponsors?”

Hank straightened up and he peered at Jack. “You in the program?”

“Was. You sponsored a girl?”

“Not officially. She was the same age as my daughter. I thought I could help.”

“What happened?” Jack relaxed his guard a little but resisted the urge to lean against the railing.

“She missed a meeting. I called her, nothing. She missed more. I freaked. I kept going to the police but they don’t care about whores even if they’re kids. I filed the report but they came back a couple days later and said she was already dead.”

“She OD’d injecting meth.”

“Bullshit!” Foster jumped up so fast that Jack’s hand instinctively went out in front of him.

“Easy.” Jack shifted.

“You don’t give a–” Hank snarled.

“Hey, I’m the cop that is here right now looking into this, so how about you just answer my questions? First, why is it BS?”

Hank paused. “She didn’t do meth.”

“She did drugs.”

“Not meth.”

“Could have been the first time?”

“Not meth.”

Jack was getting frustrated. “She did drugs and was a prostitute. Why would she not do meth?”

“She was a person too. She said she would never do meth because she thought it would make her go instantly crazy. She said she saw someone go nuts and start ripping at their skin. It freaked her out. I know it sounds weird but she was different. And… She never shot up. She would never. She hated needles.”