Authors: Christopher Greyson
JACK KNIFED (6 page)
“Certainly. Please enjoy your breakfast. I’ll write the directions down.” She nodded her head slightly, and Jack nodded back.
He watched her turn and then walk to the desk. He hadn’t realized how tall she was. She was only an inch or so shorter than he was. She looked back over her shoulder with a smile as she exited the room.
Jack grinned back.
Dancer. She must have been a dancer.
As he sat back down, Jack looked at Replacement, who made a face.
“Go get your own plate,” she snapped as she pulled her plate closer to herself.
“What?” Jack pulled it back and took some of the sausage.
Replacement moaned with pleasure again. “You have to have this flat pancake thing with the yogurt.”
Jack smiled. Replacement had some filling from the crêpe on her cheek. He wanted to brush it off, but she looked too happy so he left it.
“Can I ask you something, and you promise not to laugh?” she asked.
Jack nodded, but he had no faith in his vow, considering how funny she looked.
“Can I take this with us?” She held up her plate.
Jack laughed.
The library was set back from the road, tucked in behind the small high school. It was a two-story, square, brick building with a garden just outside. Four cars were in the lot, and Jack was grateful that the lights were on inside.
As Jack put the car into park, he leaned over to Replacement. “We’re here to do some historical research. It’s just a hobby.”
“Got it.” She smiled and hopped out.
Jack opened the door and hurried to catch up to her. “Just let me do the talking, okay?”
He held the wooden door open, and the stillness of the library enveloped them like an unseen mist. The room was beautiful. Old maple pillars reached up twenty feet to an arched ceiling. It looked as if someone had taken a sailing ship of old and turned it over.
While the building itself was gorgeous, it was the feel of the building that reached Jack. It was perfectly quiet; the air was still but it didn’t feel stale. There wasn’t a moldy smell—just the opposite. Jack breathed in deeply.
“It smells like the woods,” he said, trying to whisper to Replacement, but he felt as though he were disturbing some unseen force.
They slowly walked forward until they saw the librarian. At least they saw a woman behind a desk with a little plaque that said LIBRARIAN. But the woman who sat behind the desk didn’t fit the description of any librarian Jack had ever known. She looked like a cross between a businesswoman and a waitress at a truck stop. The short, chubby woman must have been in her late forties, but it was hard to tell with all the makeup. Her light-brown hair was done up in a large bun, and she wore a blue cotton blouse that was a little too low-cut. She was merrily stamping books and didn’t notice Jack and Replacement as they walked up to the long wooden counter.
“Oh!” She gave a little hop as she looked up. “Why, you gave me a start.” She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Welcome to the Hope Falls Public Library. My name is Mae Tanner. How may I help you?”
I wonder how many times she’s had to say that.
“Good morning, Mae. My name is Jack.”
Mae blushed as she shook his outstretched hand.
“I was wondering if you could help me,” he said.
Replacement rolled her eyes, and Mae looked as if she were about to hyperventilate.
“I’d love to.” She dashed around the counter, straightened her skirt, and smiled. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Do you have a microfiche room?” Jack smiled.
“Why yes. Yes, we do. Right this way.” She turned and hurried around a corner.
Jack rushed after her, almost dragging Replacement with him.
“Can’t we try to look it up on the computer?’ Replacement whined.
“Look up what, honey?” The librarian stopped so suddenly, Jack almost crashed into her.
“We’re looking for some newspaper articles. Just the local newspaper for now. I’m sure it isn’t online.” He emphasized the last sentence, and cast a quick glare at Replacement.
“The local paper is online,” Mae proudly proclaimed. “They started to publish online last year.”
“That’s great,” Jack began, “but I wanted to look at some papers going back around twenty-eight years. We’re here to do some historical research. Is that on microfiche?”
“It is.” Mae almost giggled, and then turned and continued down the corridor to a side room.
Jack walked into a fifteen-by-fifteen room with old metal cabinets along every wall. In the middle of the room was a large wooden table with a microfiche machine.
“We have every copy of the
Hope Falls Times
since they started publishing in 1923. We also have the regional paper, the
Enterprise
. As you can see, we’ve also…we’ve also—” Mae blushed and looked down at her hands. “We also have—” She stopped again and turned bright red. She seemed to be very self-conscious.
“Mae.” Jack placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “This is perfect.” He smiled, and she started to breathe again. “This is exactly what I need.”
“Really?” She leaned against the table and smiled at Replacement. “Wonderful.” She quickly straightened back up. “Please let me know if you need anything else.” She nodded and scurried out of the room.
Replacement hopped around, giggling. “Are we the first visitors this place has ever had?”
“Shh…” Jack whispered as he peered out the door and watched Mae hurry back to her desk. “She’s just nervous. Besides, this is what we came for.”
“This? What’re we going to find here?”
“First, we’ll find out if my mother is nuts and if any of what she said happened.” Jack walked over to the left wall. Above one of the cabinets was a banner that read: Hope Falls Press.
I’m twenty-six. She’d have been pregnant…twenty-eight years ago. Start there and go forward. Weekly paper.
Jack pulled the cabinet open. Each folder held one year of the paper. He mentally counted back twenty-eight years and grabbed the next three to be on the safe side. When he turned back to the table, Replacement had already turned on the machine and was waiting for him.
“Let me explain how this works,” Jack began.
Replacement, who sat on the desk, held up her smart phone. “Googled it. This reader has a translucent screen at the front, which projects an image from a microform. Three hundred pages per form, so I’m guessing one month per film.” She gave a little wiggle when she finished and laughed.
“Shut up.” Jack placed the folder down next to the machine.
“Why are you starting here?” Replacement pointed to the date on the folder.
“Twenty-eight years ago. It happened before I was born.”
“How do you know?”
“She said
‘it.’
” His eyes burned, but his voice was cold.
Replacement shook her head, and Jack could almost see her trying to recall his mother’s conversation in the mental hospital.
I’m not explaining it to her now.
Jack started with the January film. He put the square film into the machine, and the front page of the paper was displayed on the monitor.
Typical town paper. Nothing on a murder.
“With a town as small as Hope Falls, a stabbing would be front page news. Just in case, we should check the whole paper.” Jack’s voice was low and monotone.
They looked through every page but only found mundane stories about homecomings and elections.
February.
Every new page that appeared on the flickering machine caused Jack’s heart to speed up. He forced himself to go slow and scan each page.
Like hell I’m doing this twice. Nothing.
March.
Replacement didn’t speak. She opened her mouth once or twice and pointed at the monitor, but one look from Jack quickly silenced her.
April…nothing.
Jack paused before he reached for the May folder. “When Patty was freaking out in the hospital, I asked her when he was stabbed. She said it happened after she found out about
‘it.’
”
“Couldn’t that mean just about anything?” Replacement blurted out the words and then quickly leaned back.
Jack slowly shook his head. “There was something about the way she said ‘it.’ I can’t explain exactly what it was. Her mouth twisted up on the right side, like she was disgusted. The ‘it’ she was talking about was me. The look on her face—she’d get that look whenever she had to talk to me.”
Replacement turned and looked out the door. Jack’s hand moved the knob again. He went faster now.
It won’t be twenty-eight years ago. It will be right before I was born. Less than nine months before.
May.
Jack put in another film. Replacement watched over his shoulder. The machine hummed and the monitor glowed back to life.
Replacement gasped.
Time stopped as the page appeared. He’d never seen the teenager on the front of the paper, but he knew he was looking at his father for the first time.
He was a kid. Maybe seventeen. Smiling. Yearbook photo. I look like him.
Jack quickly made these assessments, but he didn’t move. His hand was frozen on the knob of the machine. He could hear his heart pound in his ears.
Steven. Steven Ritter. That was my father’s name.
Jack tried to read, but his vision blurred. “Teen Killed at Buckmaster Pond” was the headline of the article. Jack scanned his father’s face. Steven’s photo was in black and white, but the resemblance to his own high school yearbook photo was uncanny.
“It says he was killed, stabbed… That’s what my mother said…he was…I can’t read it.” Jack wiped his eyes and turned toward Replacement. She looked down at him with tears running down her own face.
“Jack…” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around him.
Jack shook.
“I thought maybe…maybe she really was crazy.” The tears poured down his face now. “I always thought I’d…I hoped I could meet him. I just wanted… When I was a kid, I thought he’d come looking for me, and save me.” Jack’s shoulders slumped. “My father’s dead.”
Jack sobbed. Replacement held onto him and slowly rocked him back and forth. Jack had no idea how long he cried, but Replacement never let go of him. He finally sat up and wiped his eyes. He looked out the door and saw, on the little table just outside the room, a bottle of water and a box of tissues. He was sure it hadn’t been there when they came in.
Replacement must have noticed them too, because she hurriedly went out the door. As she stepped out, Jack saw her look down the hallway and give a quick wave. She grabbed the tissues and water and turned back to Jack. His shoulders were still slumped, but he wasn’t crying anymore. Replacement set the tissues down and handed him the water.
“Thanks, kid.” Jack’s voice was raspy. “Sorry I’m such a pansy.”
Replacement lowered her face to eye level with his. “Shut up.” Her lips pressed together.
Jack cracked his neck and stood up. He stretched and then walked toward the door.
“Are you ready to go?” Replacement’s voice was soft.
He reached down to grab a pencil and some scrap paper that the library staff left out for people to use.
Jack’s voice was a low growl. “Leave? No. I’m just getting started.”
Replacement and Jack sat side by side as he read through the first article.
“On May 13, an emergency call came in reporting a stabbing at Buckmaster Pond. Steven Ritter. Seventeen. Beaten. Stabbed. No other information. Police following all leads. Chief Dennis Wilson.”
Jack stopped and looked at Replacement, who wrote as fast as he spoke.
“We can come back,” she offered.
“I’m fine, kid.” He turned to the monitor. “This is better for me. Really.”
He scanned the article to see whether he’d missed anything. His hand turned the knob forward until he came to the next week’s paper.
“Next article. May 20. Police are asking anyone with information to come forward. No suspects. No witnesses. Steven. Only child of Mrs. Mary Ritter, a widow…”
My grandmother. Widow.
Jack’s fist slammed down on the table as a new wave of pain washed over him. Replacement reached out for him, and he held up his hand.
“I’m sorry. My head is going to explode. My crazy mother was…she was right. And now I know my father is dead. Murdered. His father was already dead. My grandmother…she was…all alone.”
“Jack. This is too much for anyone all at once. Let’s go for today, okay? We’ll come back tomorrow. We’ve waited this long. We can wait one more day.”
Wait another day? I don’t want to give the guy who killed him another breath, let alone another day.
Jack’s fists shook on the table, and he knew he was close to smashing something. “Let’s get a little more. Can you please drive?” Replacement hesitated, but when Jack stood up, she moved over in front of the microfiche machine.
“All right. Next article.” Replacement began to read. “May 27. Police say there’s still no progress. Following multiple leads. Cause of death: stabbed multiple times. Police asking for help. Searched the area around the pond.”
“Does it give any other names? Cops’ names?”
Replacement scanned the article. “Frank Nelson. Detective.”
Jack wrote it down.
“Next week.” Replacement scanned the front page and frowned when she saw no mention of the murder. Page after page went by, but there wasn’t a single reference to the crime. She looked at Jack, but he just stared at the paper. She quickly rose and put another month in the machine. She slowly turned the knob, but that month had nothing on the murder either. It was the same with the next. After three months with no articles, Jack stood up.
“We’ve gotten everything from the newspaper that we’re going to get.”
Replacement nodded, and then turned to put the folders back. Jack ran his fingers through his hair and sipped the water. Replacement turned and looked at him. Her eyes were filled with worry.
“I’m fine, kid. I’m just trying not to go down the ‘what could have been’ road.”
“Don’t go there.” Replacement’s voice was low. “It will make you crazy; then it will kill you.”
Her words caused Jack to stop with the water bottle halfway to his mouth. He searched her eyes. Her face was stern and her gaze was steady.
That’s a road that she’s been on.
He took another sip and closed the bottle. “One more stop and then we go.”
Replacement looked puzzled, but she remained quiet.
The library was absolutely still as they walked back to the main desk. They passed a section of empty wooden desks. For just a flash of a moment, he could picture Steven sitting there, reading. Jack stumbled and stopped.
My father would have come here. He’d have…
His whole body tensed. He could see the look of concern on Replacement’s face. He gave a faint smile and a brief nod before he kept walking.
Damn it. Don’t go there. For all I know, he was as crazy as my mother.
Jack walked over to the main desk, and Mae looked even more nervous than she had been earlier.
She must have heard me crying like a baby.
“Hello. Thank you so much for the use of the microfiche. Can I ask you another favor?” Jack leaned on the counter.
“Of course, sweetie.” Mae reached out and patted Jack’s hand.
“Do you have copies of the local high school yearbooks?”
Mae smiled. “We do. Every single year. Right this way.”
She awkwardly launched herself off her tall stool and hurried in the opposite direction. They followed her down the corridors of books. Replacement stayed just behind Jack, and he kept feeling her gently touch him on the back or pat his shoulder. Mae stopped in the middle of a corridor and gestured to the section.
“Please let me know if I can be of any more assistance.” She smiled.
Jack gave a slight grin. She was so awkward, yet seemed so earnest that, in spite of his pain, he smiled.
Replacement stepped forward. “Thank you so much, Mae.”
The librarian’s face lit up, and she flitted off.
Replacement grabbed a step stool from the corridor and made Jack sit down. She scanned the shelf. Jack could see her counting
“Go back thirty years and grab the books through twenty-five years ago to be on the safe side,” he mumbled. She handed the stack of books to Jack, and he handed three back to her. “Look for my father’s class first. I don’t know if
her
class is the same.”
Replacement nodded and leafed through the pages.
Jack flipped through the photos until he landed on the Rs. “Got it.”
He stared at the picture of his father. It was the same picture as the one in the paper, although this one was in color. Replacement leaned over his shoulder.
“You look so much alike. Look at his cheekbones and chin. But your eyes…they’re the same. Totally.”
Jack read the text below the photo. STEVEN RITTER. “ACTA NON VERBA” IN MEMORIUM. Puzzled, he looked up at Replacement, but she was typing on her phone.
“Acta non verba?” she repeated as she continued to type. “It’s Latin. It means deeds, not words.”
“I wonder if he picked it?” Jack flipped to the Cs. He exhaled when he saw the photo. His mother was smiling from ear to ear. She had long blond hair and was posed leaning against a tree. She wore a simple white dress, and she was beautiful. Jack squeezed the yearbook, and his eyes narrowed.
The yearbook text read, PATRICIA COLE, but underneath her name, someone had written in pen, CLASS SLUT.
“They were in the same class.” Replacement took one of the scraps of paper and scribbled that fact down.
“We need to look for any guy named Terry. She said Terry told her to get Steven to come to the pond. If you find one, flag the page. You start on the previous year.”
“Do we know if Terry even went to her school?” Replacement held up her hands.
“No. We don’t. I’m assuming. You know what that means?”
Replacement smiled. “Assume makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘you’ and ‘me.’”
“And that would make me a jackass.”
Replacement laughed hard but tried to stop so quickly that she snorted. Her eyes went wide, and she turned beet red. Jack chuckled.
“I’m sorry.” She held up a hand.
“Why? I need to laugh. If I don’t, I’ll start crying like a pansy again.” Jack sighed.
She looked down and blurted out, “Found one.” She pointed to the page.
Jack looked at the picture. A young, smug-looking guy. Dark hair and brown eyes. TERRY BRADFORD.
“He’d have been a year older than my par—than them. Keep looking.”
Replacement flagged the page and added to her notes. Jack kept scanning.
All these kids. They knew my father. I wonder…
He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate. His finger moved across every name before he flipped the page. At the Ms, he stopped.
“I’ve got two. Terry Martinez and Terry Martin.”
“He looks like a jerk.” Replacement poked Terry Martin’s picture.
He was dressed in a football sweater with an open collar around his thick neck. Jack looked at the kid’s cocky grin and wanted a chance to knock it off his face.
She pointed to Terry Martinez. “He looks nice. Nerdy, but nice.”
Dressed in a white shirt and plain blue tie, he looked younger than the other students. He was thin, had a mop of black hair, and wore thick glasses that looked too big for his face.
The book’s backing made a cracking sound as Jack’s hand tightened around it. He relaxed his grip and continued to flip pages. Replacement quietly started again, too. After ten minutes, Jack got up, grabbed two more years, and handed one to Replacement. Neither of them found any reference to a Terry in the other yearbooks.
“It’s a two-year window. We’ve got three guys named Terry. It’s a place to start.” Jack stood up and put the other yearbooks back on the shelf but held onto the ones he’d flagged. “We walked by a photocopier. I want to copy the pictures.”
Replacement followed him back down the corridor to the machine. It wasn’t the best quality, but after a couple minutes, he had his copies. Jack began to close the lid but stopped and sighed.
“Jack? What’s wrong?” Replacement asked.
“A world I didn’t know existed two days ago is making me crazy,”
is what Jack wanted to say, but instead he replied, “I think I should photocopy the whole book. There might be something in here.”
“Can you check them out?”
“No. They’re reference books. Don’t sweat it. I gotta get out of here anyway. I need a break.”
Replacement nodded and took the two yearbooks from Jack and ran back down the aisle.
Three names. How can I run checks on them from here? I don’t think I can connect to any of the police systems with Replacement’s phone.
Jack kept his eyes closed as he pondered what course to take.
I can call Cindy and have her run a check. I doubt they had computers in the Revolutionary War, so the inn won’t have one. They have one here, but—
When Replacement touched his arm, he jumped.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“Let’s go. Are you hungry?” Jack asked.
“Starving.” Replacement hugged her stomach.
“You just ate that humongous breakfast. How can you be starving?”
“It’s almost three o’clock.” She held up her hand. “But I don’t have to get something—”
“No, I didn’t think it was so late. I’m sorry. Come on.”
As they walked past the main desk, Mae was nowhere in sight. Jack thought of calling out but quickly dismissed the idea. “We’ll be back. We can thank her then,” he whispered.
Jack walked out into the cool air, stopped, and breathed deeply twice. Replacement grabbed him by the arm in order to drag him back to the car.
“I’m driving.” She pulled the keys from his pocket and darted around to the driver’s side. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Jack muttered sarcastically, but he didn’t protest her driving.
I feel like hell.
He closed the door and looked at Replacement, who squirmed in the driver’s seat. Perplexed, he stared, thinking she must be trying to take her jacket off as she struggled with something behind her. She leaned forward; then, with a triumphant grin, she pulled two yearbooks from inside the back of her sweater.
“You stole the yearbooks?” Jack’s mouth fell open.
“I didn’t exactly steal them. You said there might be something that you need in them.”
“There might be, but you took them.”
“I did take them, but I didn’t steal them because I’m going to return them.”
Jack was about to argue but closed his mouth.
“Fine.” Jack leaned against the window.
Replacement broke into a huge smile. “I’m glad you agree. Where do you want to eat?”