JACK KNIFED (8 page)

Another Favor

The parking lot was a short walk from the inn so they ran through the downpour for the porch. They were both soaked by the time they reached the top of the stairs. The cold rain seemed to invigorate Replacement, and she grinned broadly. It had the opposite effect on Jack. The chill felt as if it sucked the warmth and strength right out of him. He leaned against the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his skin turned pale.

“I’ll be one second.” He pulled out his cell phone and held it up.

“I’ll wait.” Replacement smiled and leaned against the wall next to him.

“You’re soaked. Why don’t you run up and take a bath?”

Replacement hummed a little tune and happily danced from foot to foot. She grabbed his jacket and pulled his face closer to hers. “Do you know how good that will feel?” Her whole body vibrated.

“Go. Enjoy yourself,” Jack encouraged her.

She squealed and rushed off upstairs. Jack smiled, but a cold gust of wind and an icy spray of rain quickly extinguished any of the warmth left from Replacement’s enthusiasm. He turned to the wall, pulled out his phone and called Cindy.

“Hello, Cindy Grant speaking.”

There was a moment’s pause. “Hey, it’s me, Jack. I need to ask a huge favor.”

There was an even longer pause, and then Cindy cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, Cindy.” Jack rolled his eyes and began again. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Jack. Thank you so much for asking. Besides the media circus outside and Sheriff Collins’s daily eruptions inside, everything is just great.”

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s that bad. On top of all the media, the attorney general’s office has been going over everything with a fine-toothed comb.”

“The AG? Why would they…damn.”

“Let’s just leave it as bad. You want another favor?”

Jack ran his fingers through his dripping wet hair.

“I need you to run some background checks.”

Jack ran down all the information he had on the three men named Terry.

“Got it.” Cindy wrote so fast that he could hear her pen scratching. “How should I get it to you? Do you have email out in the sticks?”

“Yeah. I have my smart phone.” Jack leaned closer to the wall and tucked his head down into his jacket. “Can you run one more? Alice Campbell.”

“Alice? Our Alice?”

“Cindy, please?”

There was another long pause. “Jack, are you all right?”

Jack wanted to blurt out he wasn’t. He wanted to start blubbering into the phone and have her tell him everything would be fine. The rough wooden shingles scratched into the back of his hand as he pushed against the wall.

“Yeah. I’m good, Cindy.” He stood up. “I appreciate it.”

The rain was a torrential downpour now. Visibility was only a few feet, but everything around him sparkled as the lights from the inn reflected off the drops that shattered against the porch. Jack could picture the old woman’s face. He could still hear the breaking bowl and the glass chiming as it bounced along the floor.

She knew. I’m his son. My father was murdered. I have no control over that.

Jack looked up and stepped out. The rain ran down his upturned face, and he opened his eyes. He stared at the heavens and stood there, glaring up into the blackness.

I control the now. Now it’s my turn.

Tea And A Bath

Jack walked back into the inn and stopped. The water dripped off his face, and he watched it fall onto the red welcome mat.

“Mr. Stratton?” Behind the front counter, the tall woman called to him. “Mr. Stratton, you’re dripping on my floor.”

A wiseass grin spread across his face. He slowly lifted his chin and met her disapproving gaze. She raised one eyebrow and folded her hands in front of her. The light-brown period dress she wore was different from the others. Those dresses all had high necklines, but this was cut low. Jack’s eyes lingered on her breasts and, from the look on her face, this was not lost on her. Jack slowly stalked forward and walked partway behind the counter.

I’m sick of this lady being on my back. Break her personal space and put her off guard.

“My apologies. I was wondering if you’d do me a favor?” He kept his voice low.

She didn’t back up. Her chin lifted, and her lips pursed. A slight pink flushed her cheeks. “How may I help you, Mr. Stratton?”

Jack smiled and waited a moment before he answered. He enjoyed the pause. He relished the control. The muscles around her eyes and mouth twitched slightly, revealing her struggle to keep the mask of refinement on her face. Jack leaned in so he’d be uncomfortably close but, to her credit, she didn’t shrink back.

“Do you…have anything to drink?” he asked.

Now it was Jack’s turn to wait. Her expression didn’t change, but she breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. The faint smell of chamomile reached him, and he grinned roguishly.

“Mr. Stratton, there’s a bar down—”

Jack leaned back and feigned a look of shock. “Ms. Foster, on a cold night like this, I was only thinking of having a cup of tea to warm me.” He looked at her like a child rebuffed and took a step back.

“Tea?” she asked incredulously. “You just want a cup of tea?”

She took the bait. Wait. Let her run.

“I went for a long walk in the woods out back, and I got caught in that downpour. Now I’m chilled to the bone. I thought I might go back to my room, get a good book, and relax in the bath with a nice cup of tea.” He was laying it on thick. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and her pursed lips relaxed and then slowly opened. Jack resisted the urge to smile as her eyes traveled over him while she reappraised him. “I’ll have to remember to pick some up in town next time. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

Slump your shoulders. Small smile. Nod. 
Jack slowly moved for the staircase.

“Mr. Stratton, was there a particular tea that you wanted?”

Jack turned around with one foot on the stairs. She walked out from behind the counter, and her hands were now behind her back. He sheepishly walked back over.

“Well, it sounds a little silly but on a rainy night like this, I just love a cup of chamomile tea.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and Jack noticed her chest rise.

Bang. Set the hook.

“Would you like me to bring some up?” she offered.

They both moved closer, and Jack could once again smell the flowers on her breath. He gently touched her arm, nodded his head, and clamped his mouth shut.

Replacement. Damn.

“What’s wrong?”

“My…sister.” Jack’s hand fell to his side.

“The girl with you is your sister?” Disbelief and surprise, followed by understanding, flashed across her face. Jack shrugged and turned his hands out.

Game over. I shouldn’t be playing anyway.

“Thanks anyhow.” He sighed.

Jack turned and started to back up, and so did she.

“Can I at least get you a cup to take back to your room?” she asked with a smile on her face that begged him to follow her. She never took her eyes off him as she backed around the counter toward the open door. Jack swallowed and forced himself to walk slowly. Her hand traced along the wood of the countertop. She was using it to guide herself as she walked backward, but the soft gesture sent a spark up Jack’s spine.

Smiling, she turned and walked into the back room.

It was a dark interior room with only two tall lampstands for light. “I’ll be right back. The water’s already hot,” she told him.

There was a door on each side, and she disappeared through the far one.

Jack frowned as he scanned the room. All the furniture was antique, as was the rug.

Damn. I’m still soaked.

Jack debated about running back upstairs and changing but drove that thought from his mind. He looked at the well-preserved chairs and couch and remained standing, slowly dripping on the carpet. He shivered, and the cold seemed to rush back into his being. His head fell forward; he leaned against the doorjamb and closed his eyes. The smell of the old house mixed with the scent of the rain was calming. He inhaled a couple of times and cleared his throat.

His eyes opened at the sound of the door clicking shut. Ms. Foster stood in the doorway with a tea tray in her left hand and a robe over her right arm. Her eyes met his, and warmth spread inside his chest. Jack grinned and strode forward. He could see the flush on her neck as she swallowed.

“I thought you might need to warm up. I can dry your clothes.” She set the tray on a small table beside the couch and walked over to him, both arms held out with the robe draped over them. “You can use that room to change.” She tilted her head to the left but didn’t take her eyes off Jack.

“Thank you.” He caressed her hand as he took the robe and headed for the room on the right.

Slow down. Cool.

It was a small bathroom with just a sink, a toilet, and an ornate, full-length mirror stand. Jack’s hands shook as he quickly removed his clothes. He couldn’t tell whether it was the cold or nervousness.

How old is she? Mid-forties? She doesn’t look it. Dancer? Guaranteed she’s a dancer.

The robe could have been custom-made for him. It was a dark blue with ornate trim and fabric, matching the historical feel of the house. It was soft and warm, as if she’d just taken it out of the dryer. Jack relaxed into the warmth and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he straightened up, checked himself in the mirror, and stood even taller. The robe gave him a regal appearance.
Lord Jack of Tingsberry.
The reflection in the mirror caused him to pause. He combed his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. There were dark circles under them.

I have to get some sleep. I’m dying.
He smiled.
Maybe tonight I can sleep
.

He opened the door and the woman was posed at the end of the couch. Jack paused after he closed the door. If you could travel back in time one hundred years, everything would have looked just like this.

“Tea?” She held out a cup.

Jack sat down at the edge of the couch and took the ornate teacup with a widening smile. “Thank you…” He let his words hang in the air as he realized he didn’t know her name.

“Kristine,” she answered with a slight nod.

A small moan escaped Jack’s lips as he sipped the tea. “That’s really good tea,” he said admiringly.

Kristine smiled broadly, set her cup down, and folded her hands in her lap. “Tea and a bath…” She laughed. “You’re a very good actor.”

Jack thought for a moment about protesting and continuing the charade, but one look at her face caused him to dismiss the idea.

She’s smart. She’ll see right through it.

“You’re right. I haven’t taken a bath since I was seven.” He smiled.

“Which probably wasn’t that long ago.”

As the mood changed, Jack saw his chance for romance plummeting. In situations like this, he went to his old standby: he told the truth.

“Kristine, I wasn’t interested in a bath or tea. Honestly, I wanted to tease you a little for making me walk and not giving me a room refund, but…” he exhaled and looked into her eyes, “there was also something about you. The way you move, like a dancer. When I got close to you, I could feel your breath and I smelled the chamomile.”

She leaned in. “I was a dancer.”

Jack leaned in, too. He had no idea how things were a hundred years ago, but he had a feeling two people didn’t go at it the way they were about to. With one hand, Jack lifted her up slightly off the couch and pulled her forward enough to be reclining. The move was so fast and fluid that Kristine exhaled as he gently laid her down. The kiss was new, but it was as if they’d been lovers and were well aware of each other’s rhythms. Jack’s eyes closed as he let the different sensations wash over him: the softness of her hair in his left hand and the firmness of her toned back in his right. Chamomile faintly danced on his tongue. Her hands drew him closer, and his leg rubbed against hers.

He slowly lowered his body onto hers, opened his eyes, and smiled back as she searched his face. Long lashes led to amber eyes that widened as he moved his hand down her side.

“That was some kiss,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and leaned forward again.

“You’re a good teacher.” Jack leaned in, but all the warmth from her mouth was gone. Her lips were pressed together hard, and her body had gone rigid.

“Get out,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.

Jack froze. This was the age of “no means no,” but he couldn’t understand the complete turnaround.

“Are you all ri—?”

“Now.”

There was a finality in the way she said the word and the way she clenched her jaw. She hadn’t opened her eyes again, but she turned her head away from him and toward the back of the couch. Jack carefully lifted himself off her and backed up toward the door. He moved quietly and quickly but hesitated when he grabbed the old doorknob.

“I’m sorry…” His words trailed off.

Kristine pulled her legs up and curled into a ball. He opened the door just enough to slip through and closed it behind him.

Damn it! My clothes.

Jack stood behind the desk in the ornate robe. Shoes, pants, and, most importantly, his keys were in the bathroom. He debated with himself for only a moment before he headed up the stairs.

This sucks. This sucks so bad.

He pulled the robe tighter around himself as the young couple from yesterday’s breakfast walked past him. They gave him an odd look, and he could hear them giggling as he passed.

Damn. Now I know how Replacement felt.