Girl Jacked (22 page)

“She hated needles enough to never do meth?” Jack shook his head. “Even if she was desperate?”

“Even if she was in total withdrawal. I went through that with her. It was bad. Real bad. She didn’t do needles. Do you know people that are so freaked they don’t fly? They wouldn’t get on a plane for any reason? She was like that with needles.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. I’ve gone over it in my head. She was trying real hard. She was clean. No drugs and no booze.”

He is not telling me everything. He’s holding out.

“Hank, look, I’m the guy that’s trying to find out what happened.” Jack took a step forward.

Hank looked up at the night sky. “She was having money issues. I offered her what I could but it wasn’t much. She couldn’t ask her parents. It might have been that she ran down for a quick trick.”

That would explain why she was at the motel.

“Okay. What can you tell me about Charlie Harding?”

“Not much.”

“Were you his sponsor?”

“Yeah. Not long. He was a good kid. He had it hard. Him, there wasn’t a drug that he wouldn’t take.”

“What happened?”

“He disappeared. I haven’t heard of him since. He was living at the shelter so the stinking pigs… sorry… police just assumed he moved on.”

“Why do you think different?”

“Because he was happy. He just got a job. Crappy gig doing dishes but it was work.”

“What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. He just vanished. I filed the report and checked a couple of times but nothing.”

Jack held out the still picture from the video. “This him?”

Foster held the picture and stared at it for a while. He didn’t say anything but he nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. This picture is from a video taken late last October.”

“It must have been around when he went missing. It was before Halloween. What happened to him?”

“I don’t know… yet. Do you know if he had ever been out to White Rocks Eastern College?”

“He went out there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I took him there. I do a scared straight type of thing every semester. We go and scare the crap out of rich kids. Tell them how screwed up drugs make your life.”

“Charlie went with you? When did you go?”

“When school first starts. What is that September? The professor uses us to kick off the class. Tell the kids about drugs. I know it’s a dog and pony show but it’s a chance to warn them.” Hank shrugged.

“You know the teacher’s name?”

“Franklin. Dr. Franklin. He teaches out at the college.”

“Did Tiffany talk in front of the class?”

“No.”

“So she never went with you?”

“No.”

“Did either Charlie or Tiffany ever say anything about going there again?”

Foster shook his head as he lit another cigarette.

“Okay then Hank. Thank you for your time.”

Jack nodded. Hank did the same but he didn’t extend a hand so neither did Jack. As Jack walked away, Hank called to him.

“Hey. I’m telling you straight. I know Tiffany didn’t do meth, no way. I’m telling you, she got girl jacked.”

Jack spent the next few days going back and forth over all of his notes and the police reports. He started a new notebook and copied everything over to organize it. He created a timeline starting with Charlie Harding right up to the present day.

He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck.

Six o’clock. Replacement’s still not back.

Jack pulled his sweatshirt on and headed out for his walk. He needed to think and build his strength back up. His leg was still killing him, though he wouldn’t admit that to the doctor. He was good at masking pain.

He looked down the stairs with dread. The deep muscles in his thigh still throbbed. The hardest part of going down the steps was trying to bear all his weight just on the one leg.

After he finally made it out the front door, he was glad it wasn’t that cold. He’d walk down to Finnegan’s and then up toward the library and back. His usual two miles lap.

I have to get to Aunt Haddie’s tomorrow. I’m not going down that road again.

He had been calling her every few days, but she was adamant that he visit in person.

Jack picked up the pace as his thoughts turned to Replacement. She borrowed the car every day to get to her job. She wouldn’t talk about it so he gave up asking. He was considering picking up a used car for her. Not having his was getting to be a logistical pain.

Great we need another car and a new place!

Beep! Beep!

Jack turned and saw Mrs. Sawyer pulling up alongside him as she cranked down her window. The boat of a car she drove made her appear even smaller in the front seat.

 
“I’m so glad to see you up and about, Jack. Did you like my flowers?” Her old eyes twinkled.

Replacement throwing out the stupid flower cards is still causing me grief!

“I loved them. Thank you so much.”

As he got close to the car, she pulled him halfway in the window and gave him a big hug.

“You’ll have to stop by. I made Cherries Jubilee that will put you into sugar shock.” She patted his cheek and winked.

“I will. Has everything been nice and quiet?”

“Not a peep around the house!” she proclaimed and squeezed his hand. “All thanks to you.”

“Well, I’d better get back to my walk.”

“Don’t dawdle. It looks like rain. Be sure to stop by!” She waved and jammed on the gas.

Jack cringed as she drove on the wrong side of the street for fifty feet before slowly crossing over to the right lane.

He hurried to the library and turned around without going in. As he headed back into town, he realized it was Tuesday because of the increase in foot traffic. Forgetting what day it was made him yearn for the schedule that work would bring. His frustration was causing his body to tense up. He uncurled his clenched fists and shook his hands.

I need some way to ask questions at the college. Dr. Franklin. Two people have brought him up so I should call Hahn and see if I can go back out. I can say that I’m organizing something from Michelle’s friends for Haddie. A remembrance book. Yeah, that should work. While I’m out there, I’ll look up Franklin.

When Jack looked left to cross the street, he noticed a guy with an oversized blue parka. The problem was it was the second time that he had noticed him. The first was two miles back when he had come out of his apartment.

The guy was following him.

Walk calmly. Don’t rush. Left. Right. Left. Right. Swing your arms normally. Look around a little.

He kept walking straight, straining to hear anything behind him. He took a left down a little side street. There were a couple of people walking down the sidewalk and a few parked cars. He jumped into the shadow of a large doorway and pressed his back against the wall.

Wait. Listen.

He tried to drown out the sounds of the cars.

Footsteps. Running.

The guy in the parka ran past him down the sidewalk. His face was gaunt and marked with sores.

Another addict.

He was about an inch taller than Jack was and from his thin face, he figured he weighed under 180 pounds.

Great time to have left your gun at home.

“Looking for me?”

As the man spun around Jack could see a pair of glazed eyes that gave away a world of information.

He’s wired. Scared. Mad. Crazy.

His pupils were gone and there was a creepy grin on his face. He lunged.

Jack sprang forward as the man moved. Jack’s hand came down to block, and he saw a knife headed for his gut. He scooped it to the side, but as he went to grab the guy’s wrist Jack realized that something was wrong. The thumb is the weakest part of the grip but as Jack twisted the addict’s hand, it would not open.

Because Jack pushed forward and stepped to the left, it brought him out of the knife’s path. It also moved him into the middle of the sidewalk. Jack pivoted but the motion placed too much weight on his injured leg. Pain shot up his thigh, and his scream of agony turned into a guttural growl. His leg shook then went limp.

Jack was falling backward now. He pulled the man with him as he fell. He held onto the guy’s hand with the knife and they crashed into a parked car and then landed on the sidewalk.

The damned knife is duct taped to his wrist.

He knew from personal experience that homeless people do that to hold the knife while they sleep.

He twisted the guy’s wrist.

Fast and hard.

He heard something snap.

The guy screamed but so did Jack as the man’s knee landed right on his injured thigh. Jack’s hand reflexively opened, and the man pulled his injured arm away.

With his other hand, he punched Jack in the face. It was a quick punch but it had a lot of power. The blow caught Jack across the chin. He saw stars and his vision blurred. He could taste the blood in his mouth.

Day after day, his instructor drilled the science in martial arts into his head.

Force equals mass times acceleration. You can’t make your hand any bigger but you can make it faster. Speed… Speed kills.

Jack brought his right hand up to the left side of his face and his fist flashed out. His arm moved so fast it was a blur. The bottom, meaty part of his hand connected with the guy’s jaw and continued through. Jack felt the jaw break.

The guy was smashed backward. A muffled wail burst out of his broken mouth. He spit blood and teeth onto the sidewalk.

Jack rolled on his side and pushed himself up. His thigh muscles contracted and he fell back down.

His attacker scrambled backward and got to his feet. Jack pulled himself up to his knees.

The man saw Jack getting up, turned, and ran. Jack howled in frustration. He knew he could barely walk let alone catch the guy. As Jack fumbled for his phone, he noticed a small crowd rushing towards him.

People were asking ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘Are you hurt?’ Jack punched in a number he could dial in his sleep.

“Darrington Police.”

“Bev, this is Jack. A guy tried to knife me, need pursuit.”

“Where?”

“He’s running south down Oak. Male suspect about six feet, 180 pounds, dark blue parka with blue jeans and boots. He has a knife taped to his broken wrist.”

“Broken wrist? So he has a cast on his arm?” she asked as she repeated his information over the radio.

“No, but his wrist is broken …”

“How do you know?”

“I broke it!”

Jack glanced around.

“I’m on Laurel Road.”

Jack stretched his leg to try to get blood back in it. He winced and his eyes narrowed.

Finally, a live suspect.

 “I’ll see you later. I won’t be home until late.” Replacement called out on her way out of the apartment. Jack heard her pick up the car keys from the hall table, then the sound of the front door being opened, and then closed.

“Bye.” Jack stood staring at the door.

Damn. Something is up. She’s not talking about work and she’s coming home later and later. She is wearing makeup and perfume now...

He started to wonder. Jack shook himself out of his thoughts and moved back to the computer. Taking a swig of coffee, he got back to work. His attacker had vanished. They had an APB out with all the surrounding towns, but he was a ghost.

He’ll turn up.

Jack had picked the man’s mug shot out in under 30 minutes. He was from Rockland. Bennie Mayer. He had a long list of priors: B&E, assault, marijuana, cocaine and meth. Bennie also did time off and on.

Jack stared out the window. He was aggravated. He’d rather be out looking for Bennie the goon right now.

The guy was watching my apartment. He was waiting for me. It wasn’t random.

Jack saw his face, saw his eyes.

I don’t think he started out to kill me. He must have wanted just to follow me. When I surprised him, he panicked. He was scared but he turned into a scared killer
.

He’d seen it before. He had never met anyone who didn’t care about killing. Taking another person’s life freaked out most people, very few were just plain evil. Most were scared but their own anger or hate overcame their fears and that’s when they killed.

That’s what the guy looked like. He was going to kill Jack. It may have been the drugs but Jack saw him make the decision. He could have run but he chose to kill instead.

Could it be that someone wanted me dead because I was asking questions? I need to find that goon.

He pulled up the list of hospitals in the surrounding area and groaned. It was going to be a long day.

Jack spent the next couple of hours calling every hospital. When that turned up nothing, he called every regional clinic. Finally, he ran through the alphabet calling doctors' offices. No one had had a walk-in with a broken wrist and jaw. Nothing. He was sure that he had snapped the wrist and he was certain that he had broken the jaw, but no one matching the description showed up.

Switch gears. I’m spinning my tires.

Jack changed back to looking at Tiffany McAllister. He flipped over to her autopsy report. No sexual assault. Meth OD. As he expected, there was a ton of medical jargon. Jack kept hitting the Page Down key.

Then he thought of something.

Pictures.

The autopsy photos were all high resolution and took forever to load. They photographed the entire body but Jack wanted to see a close-up of Tiffany’s face. The pages continued to load until that face filled the monitor. Jack shut his eyes for a second. He’d seen death many times but it was still hard, almost surreal to him.

Maybe all I can do for her is to find the monster that did this.

He scanned around her eyes. He was looking for something. There was slight bruising around the right eye. He clicked and zoomed in on the right. There it was. It was very, very faint but clear. There was a small square patch on her cheek. He zoomed in as far as he could, a rectangle.

Her eyes had been taped open.

The medical examiner can find out a lot more but it’s there. The tape on the eyes links the two cases – Tiffany McAllister to Charlie Harding.

Jack leaned back in his chair.

The computer lab has Michelle’s phone with the video tape of a guy getting tortured. I got proof that it’s related at least to Tiffany’s death. That’s enough for them to go on. They will be able to get a warrant with that. Tomorrow… I’m back at work tomorrow and I can get down to Joe and lay it all out to him face to face. Once they get the video, I can fill in the details of who and what and lead them to Tiffany. They’ll also have to reexamine Michelle’s… autopsy photos to look for tape around her eyes.

Jack got up and stretched. His leg started to hurt from sitting for so long. He paced the floor.

Damn it.
He picked up the phone and dialed Joe Davenport’s cell phone.

I should tell him right now.

Joe’s voice mail picked up. “Detective Joe Davenport. I am currently unavailable. Detective Flynn can be reached by contacting…”

He hung up the phone. He looked up at the clock. It was 6:20 pm.

Maybe he is eating dinner… I’ll try again later.

He looked over his notes.

Loose ends. Lots of loose ends.

He decided to call Western Technical University.

“Registrar’s Office, how can we help?”

Jack had to explain who he was to three separate people. He looked at the clock. One hour and he had not asked a question yet.

“Mr. Wellington’s office, how can we help?” The woman on the other end of the line had an irritating singsong voice.

“How can you help? Miss... I have been on hold for over an hour. My name is Jack Stratton and I am calling concerning my sister Michelle Campbell. She supposedly transferred to your college but… She was killed.” Jack heard the woman gasp. “Can you please answer a few questions about her transfer?”

“I will certainly do whatever I can to help, sir.”

“Her name is Michelle Campbell…”

“I am looking at her transfer now, sir.”

“Did she register for classes?”

“Yes. She signed up for a full course requirement.”

“Did she sign up for housing?”

“No.”

“Meal tickets?”

“No.”

“Library access?”

“No.”

“Anything besides the classes?”

“Not that I can see.”

“How long does it take to get approved for classes?”

“Instantly.”

Jack held the phone away from his head. “What? How can you get accepted to a college instantly?”

“Well, she’s just transferring classes. We’re a sister college. She can take any classes here that she wants.”

“So she just signed up for classes there? She didn’t transfer?”

“We’re a sister college, so technically, yes.”

Technically I’m going to strangle you.

“When did she apply for the classes?”

“December 20
th
.”

“How do you know that?”

There was a pause. “I know it because it is the date that is written on the form.”

“Lady…” Jack’s frustration was getting the better of him. “Is there a way that you can tell when they electronically submitted the form?”

“Hold please.”

“No!”

Jack waited for over fifteen more minutes.

He looked back up at the clock.

What is it 4:42 pm on the west coast? I need this information today.

By the time the hold music stopped, he didn’t know if he would be able to speak without swearing.

“Hey. You still there?” A young man was speaking on the other end of the line.

“I’m on hold for…”
Damn! I don’t have her name!

“Are you the guy looking for the date on the form?”

“Yes!”

“I’m from the Computer Help Desk. How can I help?”

“Can you get a… date… Can you please tell me the date that Michelle Campbell signed up for those classes? Electronically. Not the date that is written on the form.”

“Sure, dude. Hold on…”

Jack could hear someone typing in the background.

“The time stamp on the doc is December 20
th
at 10:03 pm.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. The computer stamps it. I’m looking at the electronic time stamp. December 20
th
at 10:03 pm.”

She could have signed up herself while she was still at the school… Dead-end… Wait!

“You’re talking Pacific Standard Time… Eastern would make it December 21
st
1:00 am… 1:03 am here?”

“Yeah.”

“I need a copy of that report.”