Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (16 page)

Stepping on through to
the kitchen, he found Tiger leaning down to press a kiss to Janet’s brow.
“Thanks for everything, Tiger, I appreciate your help,” Slater heard Janet say.

Janet smiled when she saw
Slater enter the kitchen. “Welcome home! How are you feeling?”

“Fine, thanks,” Slater answered
a little uncomfortably.

Tucker came in behind him
and walked to Janet and Tiger, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “You
guys are amazing. I can’t believe how much better this place looks. You must
have worked all night. You are the absolute best!”

Janet glanced down at her
hands, embarrassed. “It was the very least I could do. Slater’s been so great
about me being here. And really, Tiger is the one to thank, he did all the
work.”

Tiger grinned and
smirked. “Yeah, you’re quite the dictator. Hey, I’m
cuttin
’
out. Y’all
be
cool. Catch
ya
later.”

“Later,” Slater called to
Tiger’s departing figure.

Turning back to Janet,
Slater asked, “Anything obvious taken?”

“The computer and laptop
were the only things I knew for sure. You’ll have to look. We… Tiger piled all
the broken things out on the lanai. I’m sorry this happened, Slater.”

“I’m just glad you
weren’t here. Would you feel more comfortable staying at a hotel or something?”

Tucker interrupted before
Janet could answer. “Not to worry, I’ll be staying the next couple of days with
you guys. I promised your doctor you wouldn’t be alone.”

Slater clenched his jaw
in frustration, knowing from past experience he’d never be able to get out of
the house while Tucker was here.

“Listen, Tuck, you don’t
have to stay. I think Honey… I mean Janet and I will be fine here by ourselves.
Don’t you, Janet?”

Glancing over, it took
Slater a minute to understand Janet’s blank expression. She didn’t know what
he’d found out from the real Honey Luscious.

Running a hand through
his hair, Slater didn’t really have time to deal with Janet right now, but that
didn’t seem quite fair. She’d done so much for him.

“Yesterday, when I met
with the real Honey Luscious, she said the person who bought her car was named
Janet Jackson. I’ve pulled some records for the Janet Jacksons in his area;
unfortunately, they were in my office so I don’t if they’re still there. Bridge
is supposed to be by later and we’ll ask for his help. I assume you are either
Janet Jackson or got the car from her. We pulled records on sixteen Janet
Jacksons in the local area but no pictures. But that’s all I know.
Any breakthroughs on your part?”

Janet sat staring at him,
blinking rapidly, trying to absorb his information. With a little shake of her
head, she said, “No, no breakthrough.”

With a nod of his head,
Slater said, “I’m
gonna
go look at the stuff on the
lanai. Call when Bridge gets here.”

Tucker put a resisting
hand on his shoulder. “Do you think that’s wise?
 
I think the doctor expected you to take it easy.”

“I’m just going to take a
look. They’ve already done the hard part.”

Slater opened the sliding
doors and stepped out onto the lanai. Stacked up against the far wall was a
pile of broken and mostly unusable items: lamps; end table; picture frames; paintings;
and a headboard. Kneeling down on his haunches, Slater began pawing through the
remnants. As he ferreted out items to keep, he came upon a pink and yellow
picture frame. The frame was broken and mangled, but its content was remarkably
intact. Inside the frame was a hand-drawn picture of his garden.

Slater felt a catch in
his chest at what he’d nearly lost. The picture had been drawn and painted by
Sophie, his daughter. It was irreplaceable to him. Setting it aside, he
continued on through the pile, finding odds and ends he wanted to keep or get
fixed. His eyes kept creeping back to the drawn picture. God, he missed them.
Tucker had told him time heals all wounds, but he was wrong. Nothing could heal
this wound. Nothing could ever make this better. Slater thought of the
countless women he’d used to salve the wounds. They’d helped but not healed his
gaping holes.

Slater took a walk
through the house, but didn’t really see anything missing outside of his
computer and laptop as Honey… Janet had said. While Tucker set about preparing
sandwiches for lunch, Slater pulled the ladder down for the attic and headed
up. When he reached the top, he leaned over and pulled the chain suspended from
the light bulb, flooding the attic with much-needed illumination.

Slater felt the air surge
from his lungs at the devastation he saw. Anything that had previously been in
boxes was now strewn across the attic’s floor. His mother’s antique mirror had
been smashed, as well as her china, which was now scattered in pieces. Pulling
himself carefully through the attic’s opening, he stepped towards Anne’s trunk.
He rubbed a hand against the catch in his chest. All Anne’s things had been
dumped out and thrown around like they were nothing: her wedding dress; her
photo albums; a family Bible; her grandmother’s quilt; and Sophie’s baby
blanket.

Slater knelt and began to
carefully replace the items back into the trunk one by one. He picked up the
photo album last and flipped through the pages. There were pictures of their
wedding; of the two of them on their honeymoon; and while there were more
pictures in the album, he was absent from them. There were pictures of Sophie’s
birth – which he missed while in Kuwait; pictures of her first birthday – which
he missed while in Iraq; and later birthdays and holidays he missed for similar
reasons. Anne had been right; he really had missed out on their lives together.

Reverently, he carefully
laid the album on top and closed the lid, once again securing his last
remaining link to his wife and child. Standing, he ran a hand through his hair,
more tired than he could ever remember being. Who was behind the break-ins and
what were they looking for? He needed to get to his office and check out the
security tapes. Hopefully, his added security measures could give him the
information he needed.

Chapter 11

Bridge arrived with a
six-pack in hand, to which Tucker frowned at Slater’s mixing of alcohol and
pain medication; but he wisely held his tongue. Easing his battered body down
to sit at the kitchen table, Slater took a long pull from the bottle of beer as
he listened to Tucker recount the events of the night before to Bridge.

“Wow, I’m glad no one was
here,” Thompson Bridges said at the conclusion.

“We were lucky to have
Tiger with us. He was an invaluable help,” Tucker concurred.

Pointing his beer bottle
in Slater’s direction, Bridge said, “Hey, yesterday after you called Bennie and
she ran the preliminaries on Janet Jackson, she called me – on your behalf – to
obtain driver’s license photos. I called in a few favors and got a winner. I’m
happy to tell you all this pretty little lady right here is indeed Janet
Jackson.” Winking at Janet, he said in her direction with his hand held out,
“Janet Jackson, nice to meet you.”

Leaning forward to shake
his hand, she smiled a relieved smile and said, “Thank you. I’m so happy not to
really be named Honey Luscious.”

A murmur of laughter
filled the kitchen.

Reaching into his pocket,
he pulled out a blown-up photocopy of Janet Jackson’s driver’s license, which
included an address. Janet reached over with trembling fingers to take it from
him. She stared for a long time at the photo and the address.

“Anything seem familiar?”
Slater asked.

Slowly she shook her
head.

“That’s okay, at least
now we’ll know where to start looking for your family. First thing tomorrow,
I’ll go check out the address,” Slater said.

“Would you mind if I go
with you?” Janet asked.

“I think it’d better if I
check it out first, okay?” Slater replied.

With little conviction or
patience, she begrudgingly murmured, “Okay.”

Bridge stood. “Well,
folks, I’m glad all is well. I’ll forward a copy of the police report to you
once it’s been completed. Janet… Tucker… it was good to see you. Slater, can
you show me out?”

Slater nodded his head as
he rose. Once at the door, Bridge turned back and contemplated Slater solemnly
before saying, “Your SUV was found. I hate to tell you but it was trashed and
burned. It’s totaled. I’ll send you a copy of that report ASAP for your
insurance company. Pretty-Boy, this is some serious shit. I don’t know what
you’re involved in, but the vehicle was destroyed by a pro. This is not amateur
hour here. Let me know if there is anything I can do, all right?”

Slater ran a hand through
his hair, which was getting a little longer than he liked. “I will, thanks,
Bridge. And thanks for not mentioning that in front of daddy-dearest in there.
He’d just worry and drive me crazy.”

“Nobody knows that better
than me. Hey, remember the night we stomped West Ashley High? Man, when we
dragged our sorry, drunk asses in at four in the morning, I thought Friar Tuck
was
gonna
have a stroke! And when he called my folks?
Man, please. I always thought you had it easier being raised by your
brother,
I figured you had no rules. But he was so strict!”

Slater grinned at the
memory. “I still can’t believe he made us go wash the graffiti off West
Ashley’s walls as
hungover
as we were. I’d forgotten
that – I was so pissed.”

“I know what you mean, I
think I puked for a week,” Bridge said with a grin. “I
gotta
go.
Tisha
will be
thinkin
’
I’ve taken up with another woman. Be cool, my brother.”

“Thanks for everything,
Bridge, I appreciate it.”

◊◊◊

Once Bridge took off,
Slater went to his home office and began making the myriad of calls to have his
possessions reclaimed. He ordered a new cell phone; made arrangements for a car
rental; ordered new computers and laptops for his home and office; and called
his home, office,

and
auto insurance companies with the
promise to supply the forthcoming police reports. Lastly, he touched base with
Bennie. Surprisingly she kept her biting tongue to a minimum.
I must be worse off than I thought
, he
thought to himself. He told her to take the rest of the

 
week
off and they’d
start putting the office back together again the next Monday.

Sitting back in his
office chair, he rubbed his fingertips over the pressure points located at his
temples. What a crappy week! Leaning back, he closed his eyes to help relieve
some of the pressure and before
long,
he drifted off
into glorious oblivion.

After dinner, and against
his brother’s advice and wishes, Slater poured himself a tumbler of scotch and
quietly slipped through the sliding glass doors leading to the garden. With
only the light of the moon to guide him, he strolled slowly towards the swing
situated at the top of the garden. Collapsing down on the swing’s cushions,
Slater raised the glass to his lips and let the amber liquid burn a trail from
his mouth to his stomach. The feeling the scotch made as it hit his stomach matched
his feelings overall. He was burning with rage and it was eating an even bigger
hole in his stomach. Destroying his office was one thing – that was business.
But coming to his home – that was personal.
He was going to
find who’d done this and make them pay.

He sat in quiet
contemplation with the coolness of the scotch glass pressed against his temple.
One leg was dangling, pushing the swing, and the other was hitched up on the
swing when he heard Janet hobble out from the house. He took an exasperated
breath and let it out quietly. He really wanted to be alone right now. But his
brother would kill him if he wasn’t nice. So he suffered in silence. He
steadied the swing in preparation for her sitting down.

Setting the crutches
aside, she turned and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry to impose but one of
your brother’s parishioners found out he was here and needed to speak to him
privately. I offered to come out here. I hope that’s all right?”

Straightening on the
swing to put as much room as possible between them, he replied automatically,
“Of course.”

They sat together quietly
for several minutes before Slater said softly, so as not to disturb the
solitude of the night, “Thanks for all you did with the house. I didn’t fully
appreciate it until I went up to the attic. It was a lot of work. I was glad to
not walk into that.”

Bowing her head, she said
just as softly, “It was my pleasure. Again, it was the least I could do. You’ve
done so much for me already.”

They sat again for
several minutes without speaking.

“Now that you’ve had time
to think about it, does the name Janet Jackson mean anything to you?”

Slowly shaking her head,
she replied, “Only the singer. It’s very frustrating. I get the feeling there
is something I should and need to know, but I can’t remember. I try not to
think what became of the child or I’d really go crazy. Isn’t it odd no one has
looked for me?”

Slater gave a shrug of
his shoulders and said softly, “Maybe… maybe there is no one. Have you thought
of that?”

“I’ve done nothing but
think of different scenarios. It could be this or it could be that. I drive
myself crazy.”

Slater watched her as she
spoke. Her dark hair was tucked simply behind her ears and she twirled the ends
of it between her fingers in a nervous habit. When she darted her eyes in his
direction, they appeared black and her skin had a lustrous glow under the light
of the moon. She was indeed a beautiful woman. He liked listening to her speak;
her voice was calm and soft. Her vulnerability brought out every protective instinct
he had within him. He wondered briefly if her skin would be as soft as he
thought. He wondered if she would be soft and pliant to his hands if he laid
her back and…

Abruptly he shifted his
position to snap his mind away from those types of thoughts. The woman was a
guest in his house… a woman with too many issues to even name. A woman he
couldn’t…. wouldn’t get involved with.
A woman with way too
much baggage.
Instinctively, he knew she would never settle for just sex
– for her it would have to be the whole package or nothing.

Clearing his throat and
his thoughts, he said, “Well, maybe by tomorrow, all your questions will be
answered and you can get back to your life.”

“And out of your hair.
But I think I’ll be out of your hair regardless after tomorrow anyway.”

Slater cast his green
eyes in her direction and gave her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Janet tapped softly on
her casts. “I get these off tomorrow.
Yay!”

“I thought you still had
another week to go?”

“I begged to have them
removed and they reluctantly agreed. I’m so happy. It’s so incapacitating. It
makes me feel helpless,” she replied.

“Yeah, I’ve been there. I
know what you mean. I remember how restrictive casts can be.”

“Tucker told me you were
in the service. Was that when you were hurt?” she asked.

Slater was in the process
of raising his drink to his lips at her question but stopped abruptly before
turning away and continued lifting it slowly. “Uh, no… well sort of, I guess,”
he said softly.

Noticing a change in him
and not knowing why, she asked softly, “What happened?”

Had his insides not still
been raw from the intrusion into Anne’s things, he probably would have brushed
off her question or answered noncommittally. But he was raw… raw and bleeding
on the inside. Slater sat staring straight ahead for a long time, lifted the
drink once more to his lips, and said softly, “I got ran over by a semi.”

“Oh, my
God!
You were so
lucky. How could anyone have survived that?” Janet exclaimed.

Murmuring, he said, “Not
everyone did…”