Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

chapter twenty-five

Jack listened to the news on Friday afternoon. “Vancouver City Police recorded the city’s largest ever seizure of methamphetamine around noon today. Fifty kilos of the drug were seized at the train station. Police attribute the seizure to an anonymous tip received by the police in Montreal. A juvenile from Montreal was arrested, along with a local man known in the underworld by the unusual name of Halibut. His real name…”

Jack’s telephone rang a minute later.

“You hear the news?” asked Danny.

“Sounds like the narcs will be happy with Eddy Trimble. Bet I could get them to buy me a beer.”

“No kidding! You were right about Bart and Rex. They’re trustworthy.”

“They even threw in the bit about the anonymous call in Montreal. They’re not only trustworthy, but they’re doing their best to protect me.”

“Or Eddy Trimble.”

“Whatever. It’s good news. This is just the beginning. I told you there would be no stopping us now. How’s Susan?”

“Her head hurts a little, no thanks to you, but she’s fine. We had a good talk last night. Thanks. I really owe you.”

“Talk? That’s not what I told her to do to you!”

Danny paused, then said, “Right. She fucked some sense into me, too.”

Jack chuckled and Danny continued, “Susan said you have a plan to get Wigmore off my back?”

“I haven’t worked out all the finer details. We’ll have to wait until Monday when he returns, but trust me, by then I’ll have it together. Need a woman to help us, though.”

“Susan’s primed. She wants to help.”

“Good. See you tonight at the office.”

“This time I’m driving!” yelled Danny. He was too late. Jack had hung up.

Danny checked his watch. The search of Wizard’s penthouse apartment hadn’t taken long. All they had found was a .357 magnum revolver stuck in a holster fixed to the back of a bedside table. None of the phone numbers they located had prefixes for outside the city.

“That was quick,” whispered Danny. “Took us less than fifteen minutes. Do you still plan on doing Rolly’s? His place is an old house; it’s going to take a lot longer.”

“Yes, I plan on doing Rolly’s! Just give me a minute.”

Jack took the .357 from its holster and stuck the barrel of the gun deep down into the dirt of a houseplant. He then tamped the dirt in the barrel with his pen, wiped off the outside of the gun, and replaced it in the holster.

“Maybe if we get lucky it’ll blow up in his face,” said Jack bitterly, ushering Danny out the door.

Danny’s silence as Jack drove to Rolly’s house betrayed his troubled thoughts.

“You’re quiet,” said Jack.

“Thinking about what you did with the piece back there.”

“Think it’s wrong? If he shoots at you it won’t seem wrong.”

“If we do find out Wizard and Rolly killed your sister’s kids, what do you plan to do?”

Jack parked a block down the street from Rolly’s house and they walked the remaining distance. It was in an older district that was heavily treed. A few street lights lit up the street, but the neighbourhood appeared to be asleep.

Only the top half of Rolly’s two-storey house was visible in the moonlight. It was completely surrounded by large cedar trees and was set back from the road. An eight-foot chain-link fence encircled the property at the edge of the treeline. Three strands of barbed wire stood out at an angle from the top of the fence, adding more height. A gate across the driveway was padlocked shut and bathed by floodlights.

Danny looked at the chain-link fence and then at Jack. “Well?”

“The gate’s out in the open.” Jack looked up at the fence and added, “My back and arm are still a little tender, but I can make it. It’ll be safer than picking the padlock. These trees should give us enough protection from the street.”

Minutes later, Danny was at the top of the fence. He flung his jacket over the strands of barbed wire before making his way down the other side. Jack eased himself over the top and climbed down to join him.

A low growl caused both men to leap for the fence. Danny reached the top as Jack yelled in pain. The German shepherd had its teeth clenched on a torn strip of his pants and he was slowly dragging the dog up the fence.

“He’s got me! Do something!” said Jack, gritting his teeth as the snarling dog shook its head in a frenzy while dangling from the torn cloth.

“I bet this is the dog the pervert used with Marcie! What do you think?”

“Christ! I don’t know! Do something!”

“Shake him off!”

“It’s all I can do to hang on! If I fall there won’t be enough of me left to make a stir-fry!”

“Want me to shoot ’im?”

“No. The noise will wake up the neighbours! If Rolly sees his dog dead…”

Danny watched as Jack tried to shake his leg. The cloth tore a little more, but then held fast at the seam at the bottom of his ankle. Danny eased back down the fence and kicked the dog squarely on top of the head. The dog didn’t let go, but Jack’s fingers slipped a notch.

“Don’t! Watch … Oh, great! Lights!”

Across the street a neighbour’s upstairs light had come on. Jack tossed his gun, keys, and one ankle boot over the fence as another interior light came on. Then he undid his belt. Seconds later, he clambered down the fence as the front porch light was turned on.

The door opened, and a man in a housecoat stepped out onto the porch and walked over to the railing and stood looking toward the fence.

Jack and Danny lay on the ground while Danny peered at the man from behind a tree.

On the other side of the fence, the dog took out its frustration by shredding Jack’s pants and grinding them into the dirt.

“What’s he doing? Did he see us?”

“I don’t think so. He’s just standing there,” whispered Danny, glancing back at his half-naked partner. “What should we do if he comes over?”

“Pretend we’re gay.”

Danny’s silent prayer was answered when the man went back inside.

“He’s gone. Now what?” asked Danny.

“Wait a few minutes to make sure he’s not still watching, then get the car and take me home. We’ve still got tomorrow night to come up with something.”

They watched as the dog quit growling, picked up Jack’s pants, and trotted back toward the house.

“Just like he’s bringing home a trophy,” said Danny.

Jack’s reply was inaudible as he limped over to pick up his gun, keys, and boot.

Jack glanced back inside the compound. The dog had returned, without the pants, and was standing over his other ankle boot, staring back, as if daring him to try to retrieve it.

A short time later, Danny eased the car over to the curb in front of Jack’s apartment, and Jack hobbled inside. With the interior light on, Danny saw the blood seeping through Jack’s fingers as he held his leg.

“You’re hurt!”

“He took a chunk out of my calf, but I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,” said Jack, easing his hand off.

“You might need stitches.”

“Damn it!”

“Natasha?” asked Danny.

Jack groaned. “I guess I’d better. I’m not going to Emergency like this. She’s home now.”

“Great!” replied Danny enthusiastically.

“What do you mean, great?”

“I want to see how you explain losing your pants.”

Danny chuckled. “Almost makes up for dumping me in the park last night.”

“Slow down and make sure we don’t get stopped for speeding,” grumbled Jack.

Twenty-four hours later, Jack and Danny sat in a brown four-door sedan. It belonged to a Highway Patrol unit. There were no markings on the car, but with a thick Plexiglas shield between the front and back seat, most people could easily identify it as a police car. They slowly drove up the alley behind Rolly’s house.

They got out of the car and walked up to the fence. Jack picked up a handful of gravel from the lane and tossed it over the fence. The dog appeared instantly, pressing its jaws up against the fence to reveal a snarling, salivating mouth full of teeth.

“Good,” said Jack. “Keep him here for about ten minutes while I pick the lock, then bring him around front. Don’t stumble!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” responded Danny.

Ten minutes later, Danny made his way around to the gate while the dog, emitting a deep, low growl, stalked him on the other side of the fence.

Jack had positioned the car alongside the gate. Both back doors of the car were open and Jack waved to him from the front seat.

“God, I’m fucking crazy to be doing this!” Danny took off his jacket and swatted it against the fence. The dog snarled louder, leaping at the fence. Danny then raced over and crawled partway into the back of the police car.

“Okay, go for it!”

From the front seat, Jack leaned out the partially open window and shoved the gate slightly open. Danny, looking out the open car door across from him, shook his jacket once more as the dog lunged into the car after him. He immediately backed out, slamming the door. Jack slammed the door from the other side. Seconds later they drove off as the dog, realizing it was trapped, went into a frenzy and started shredding the upholstery with its teeth.

They parked the car a short distance from the house. As both men got out of the car, chunks of upholstery and stuffing rained down within.

“It looks like it’s snowing in there!” said Danny. “HP is going to be pissed!”

“Makes up for the ticket they gave me last year. Hope he doesn’t eat his way into the front before we get back.”

They crept up the steps leading into the back of Rolly’s house. A spiked dog collar tied to a heavy chain lay on the porch. The chain led down the steps and was wrapped around a tree in front of a large doghouse. Two empty aluminum dog dishes lay upside down in the dirt. Both had holes chewed through the rims. The remnants of Jack’s pants were hanging out of the doghouse.

“This is a good omen,” whispered Danny. “We’ve already found your pants.”

“Wonderful. Next week is Halloween. I’ll go dressed as dog food.”

Danny heard the door open and saw Jack step inside.

“Christ, you’re fast! You’re going to have to teach me someday,” said Danny in amazement.

“Thanks. But it wasn’t locked.”

Danny glanced at the dog collar. “I can see why.”

They started their search in the three bedrooms upstairs. The furnishings in two of the bedrooms consisted only of dirty mattresses lying on the floor. There was a dresser in the main bedroom, and Jack searched through the drawers. Danny spotted a shotgun leaning against the wall and carefully picked it up.

“Loaded?” asked Jack.

Danny nodded, putting the shotgun down.

It was an hour and a half later when they finished their search. They found a few telephone numbers in a kitchen drawer, but again, none were for outside the city.

“Well, at least we tried,” said Jack. “Let’s get out of here before the sun comes up. We’ve still got to return the dog.”

“Yeah. Hope he leaves on his own so I don’t have to coax ’im out,” replied Danny, feeling apprehensive.

Outside the house, Danny watched as Jack retrieved his pants from the doghouse, then got down on his knees and shone his flashlight inside.

“Do you see your shoe?”

“What’s left of it.” Jack reached inside and pulled out a badly mangled ankle boot.

Danny was about to go, but Jack stayed kneeling, staring at the doghouse.

“You coming?” whispered Danny.

“This floor is thick.”

Danny shrugged. “Just insulated to keep the poor little puppy off the ground.”

“They’d do that for the mutt but not bother to leave it any food or water while they go away for a couple of days?”

Jack moved his flashlight beam across the floor of the doghouse. It was covered with short, dark green outdoor carpeting, which was glued down, except along one wall where it had been cut slightly too large to fit the floor.

He pulled back the carpet to reveal a plywood floor. A small grubby knothole was visible in the plywood. He stuck his finger in the knothole and pulled. The floor of the doghouse lifted like a page in a book.

A compartment underneath held a brown leather case. He carefully lifted it out and undid the zipper, shining his light inside.

“Well?” asked Danny breathlessly.

“Take a look,” said Jack, holding the case open.

Danny looked in and saw some handguns, stacks of money held together by elastic bands, and a large brown envelope.

“Look at all the cash,” said Jack. “These are thousand-dollar bills!”

“Yet he still has dirty mattresses on the floor in two of the bedrooms?”

“Guess you can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear. Come on, let’s go back inside and take a better look. There’s a downstairs washroom without any windows. We can close the door and turn on the light.”

Danny noticed the sky was beginning to lighten but didn’t say anything as he followed Jack into the house.

Jack carefully pulled the contents of the leather case out onto the floor. There were three .22-calibre handguns.

“Do you think these have been used?”

Jack shook his head as he picked up the brown envelope. “I doubt it. Our friend said they throw them away after each hit.”

“Pass me those bundles. I’ll start counting. Let’s see how much he’s got.”

Jack didn’t respond as he stared into the brown envelope. His face became mottled.

“Jack? … Jack? What is it?”

Jack silently passed Danny the envelope.

It was stuffed with newspaper clippings. For a moment, Danny didn’t understand, until he saw the bold lettering of one caption: GRISLY MURDER OF TWO CHILDREN – Discovered by mother…

Danny pulled the newspaper clippings from the envelope. Most of the clippings were about the children’s murder. One clipping was different. It was about another murder that had taken place three days ago. The article said: Bobby Singh, a 29-year-old man who police believe was involved in the drug trade, was found shot to death in his home Wednesday night by relatives who…”

Jack pointed his finger beside the man’s name. Someone had written “2” in ink.

“Look at Ben Junior’s name,” said Jack.

Danny flipped back the pages and looked. Beside Ben Junior’s name, someone had written “1” in ink.

“Rolly murdered Ben Junior,” said Jack. “He’s even keeping score! Bobby Singh was his second victim. He didn’t put a number beside Maggie’s name. Probably because Wizard killed her.”

“We can’t be sure,” replied Danny.

“Can’t we? Then you give me another explanation for it!” yelled Jack.

“How can you be sure it was Wizard?”

“He’s the one who vouched for Rolly’s tattoo! And he already has the Dirty Dog tattoo. That’s what Maggie was drawing when she was killed.”

“It still doesn’t confirm he killed her.”

“You’re saying you don’t think he did it?” asked Jack incredulously.

“I didn’t say that, but it would never stand up in court.”

“Court! What the hell does court have to do with anything? None of this will stand up! We can’t use this! We don’t even have grounds for a search warrant! Who’s talking about court?”

“So what do we do then?” asked Danny, his voice cracking. “Do you set yourself up as judge, jury, and executioner? What if it wasn’t Wizard? Okay, I’ll admit Rolly had a hand in it, but what if it wasn’t Wizard? It’s just … could you live with there being any doubt as to who did kill Maggie? Wondering if a third person was there, maybe another dealer, and Wizard only saw what happened.”

Jack didn’t respond for a moment. He sat on the floor, breathing like he had run a marathon. Eventually his breathing returned to normal. “Okay,” he said. “You want more proof? I’ll get it for you!”

The sound of birds chirping outside told Danny that now was not the time to ask how.

Jack picked up one of the handguns and walked out of the bathroom and over to a plant in the living room. He looked back at Danny. “Are you going to help?”

Danny looked down at the remaining two guns. This is wrong. Everything I’m doing is wrong.

“Forget it, I’ll do it myself,” said Jack, plunging the barrel of the gun into the dirt.

chapter twenty-six

It was daybreak when Jack pulled alongside Danny’s car in the office parking lot.

“So we take tonight off? That’s what you said.”

Jack nodded. His face looked grim.

“You’re not going to do anything…?”

Jack shook his head and said, “In my heart, I know you’re right about needing more proof. I’m convinced about Rolly, but Wizard, or whoever they were meeting, is another story. Our friend gets back from the ride today. We’ll meet him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You’ve already got a game plan, don’t you?”

“I know what I’d like to do, but I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

Danny sucked in a deep breath. “Christ, Jack, we’re supposed to be cops, for God’s sake.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“We’ve got a good informant. Let’s get a wiretap for drug trafficking. It might lead to some dealer up the Valley that we don’t know about.”

“Then what? They’re not dumb enough to say anything over the phone. If we run wire we’ll have to bring more people into it, which means more risk for our friend.”

“What’s your plan, then?” asked Danny nervously.

“Turn up the pressure on our friend.”

“Too much pressure and he’s liable to do something stupid.”

“I’ve decided to chance it. I’ll call him tonight and set up an early morning meet. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty tomorrow morning. If he hasn’t received any heat over those fifty keys, then I’m going to put the screws to him.”

“Hope you know what you’re doing. This could get pretty hairy.”

“Hairy is okay. It’s bloody that you have to watch out for. But you’re right, so let’s take today off. Do something special with Susan. You owe it to her. She’s a great lady.”

“I know.”

“We’ve got almost twenty-four hours. I plan on spending it with Natasha.”

“That’s right! Today is the big day,” Danny said, lightly punching Jack on the arm.

“She’s just meeting Liz and Ben.”

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll like her. Susan and I do.”

“I’m not nervous. Good night!”

It was noon when Natasha walked into her bedroom and gently shook Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead, breakfast is ready.”

Jack groaned and looked at the clock on Natasha’s dresser. “Why so early?”

“It’s not early. Besides, I’m keyed up. Think I need to expend some energy,” she said, reaching under the sheets and running her hand up the inside of his thigh.

“It’s only my sister and her husband.”

“Oh? So it’s not a big deal?”

Jack reached for Natasha’s head and pulled her face close to his. He smiled and said, “Yeah, it’s a big deal. At least Liz thinks so. Speaking of which, you better have an appetite. Her Sunday dinners are always great.”

“Is that the way to your heart? Through your mouth?”

Jack grinned, then said, “Not necessarily. Your hand may have found another way.” He kissed her as her bathrobe fell to the floor.

As they finished breakfast and started clearing dishes, Jack thought about their visit to the farm … and about Marcie. What type of image did The Suit portray to others? What would his profile consist of? He decided to tell Natasha about The Suit. How he provided the bikers with secret police information and the ugly details of his attack on Marcie.

Natasha’s face expressed her horror. “Give me a minute to think about it.” She was quiet as she slowly collected her thoughts. She saw the grim look on Jack’s face as he stood drying the same dish over and over again. Finally she said, “He’s sick. Really sick.”

“All those years of medical school and you tell me he’s sick? Incorrect answer, doctor! I want something more professional. A psychiatric profile to help identify him.”

“I know. Just hang on.” She drained the kitchen sink before taking the towel from Jack’s grasp and tossing it on the counter. “Hold me a sec.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. He saw that she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about my work, let alone this.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew something appalling had happened to her. I just didn’t know how awful.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers, then continued, “Psychiatry is not my field of expertise, but considering what he did to Marcie, I would say you’re looking for someone in a position of power or authority.”

“Like a policeman?” Jack said it as a question but meant it more as a statement.

“Perhaps. It’s no coincidence that the mask he wore was of the president of the United States. This is a guy who wants absolute power. He likely portrays a perfect, strong image, yet deep down inside he is very insecure. He would detest feeling like anyone had any power over him. The type of person who would strongly object to something as benign as, say, a seat belt law, because he would feel that it implies that someone has power over him by telling him what to do.”

“So I’m looking for a guy who doesn’t wear a seat belt?”

“He might wear it, only to present a perfect image, but would despise the nuance of power that he believes it holds over him.”

“Ah, that makes it easier,” said Jack bitterly.

“I’m sorry. I’m just telling you what —”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I appreciate what you’re telling me, it just upsets me that I don’t know who he is. I wonder if he’s ever sought treatment?”

“He might have if he had been caught and thought it would keep him out of jail. In reality, I suspect that he is so twisted that he doesn’t see himself as the perverted, sick animal that he is. He has a psychopathic personality. Someone without a conscience. He would stridently defend his belief that it is okay to molest children, except he knows it would tarnish his image or perhaps get him caught.”

“So your final diagnosis is…?”

“He’s like a rabid dog. I don’t believe there is any cure for someone like that.”

“Maybe a bullet.”

Jack cringed as soon as he said it. She’s a doctor. She saves lives.

Natasha’s face was without expression. She chose her words carefully. “Killing him would be like eradicating an infectious disease. You would be doing society a favour. The risk is contamination – that you could become infected and be viewed as having rabies yourself.”

The meaning of her words was not lost on Jack, but a more important issue crowded his brain. He realized he was afraid of something that had never bothered him before. He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow – and became afraid of dying. The prospect of not being with Natasha… He felt a strong desire to tell her how much he loved and admired her, but the timing wasn’t right. Talking about murder and molestation … it wasn’t a topic for love.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking that my ethics could never become infected, as long as I have you as my guiding light. Having you makes me think that I would never want to face … quarantine.”

“Good. Promise me you’ll keep it that way.”

“I promise.”

Natasha hugged him. He felt her warm face on his neck and held her there for a long time.

Late that afternoon, Jack watched as Natasha, Liz, and Ben chattered like long-time friends. Marcie sat in the living room as well, but she was mostly silent, keeping her thoughts to herself. When Liz excused herself to check on dinner, Jack followed her into the kitchen.

“Need a hand with anything?” he asked.

“No, I was just checking. Everything is under control.”

Jack stayed and looked at his sister.

Liz smiled, then whispered, “I think she’s great. Intelligent, beautiful, charming. Witty with a good sense of humour. Yes, I like her. Is that what you came in to find out?”

Jack grinned.

“She also seems open and honest. I can tell that Ben likes her, too.”

“Thanks, sis, it means a lot to me that —”

“Anything I can do to help?” Natasha asked.

Jack spun around quickly. “Uh, no. Liz and I were just coming back to sit down.”

“Oh? Talking about me, were you?”

A laugh escaped from Elizabeth’s lips, then she said, “Add perceptive to the list!”

Liz and Natasha took delight in announcing that Jack was blushing when they returned to the living room to join Ben.

Jack changed the subject by asking, “Where’s Marcie?”

“She went to the barn to toss a couple of bales down for the animals,” Ben replied. “She shouldn’t be long.”

“How are you all doing? It’s been two weeks.”

Ben and Liz exchanged glances, then Ben said, “She’s a really good kid. A hard worker. Maybe working too hard. It’s like she’s always underfoot.”

“Sounds like she’s trying to please you.”

“She’s been volunteering for everything, from helping Liz in the house to wanting to help me on the farm. On top of that, she’s doing about three hours of homework every night.”

“She’s a bright kid,” said Liz. “I’ve been checking with the school. She’s missed the first six weeks, but they said that at the rate she’s going, they expect her to catch up soon.”

“What about the psychologist?”

“She’s had two meetings so far. Now she’s scheduled for one a week.” Liz looked at Natasha and said, “I talked to the psychologist; she said that Marcie has post stress disorder.”

“PTSD,” replied Natasha. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Yes, I’m sure that diagnosis is correct. Considering her history, she may need a lot of counselling.”

“That’s what we were told.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Jack. “I feel like you’re holding something back.”

Ben and Liz exchanged another glance, then Liz said, “Don’t get me wrong on this. We both think she’s a really great kid.”

“That’s what you’ve been telling me on the phone. What’s changed?”

Ben cleared his throat, then said, “Last Thursday … maybe I overreacted, but Liz was pretty upset.”

“It’s not Ben’s fault,” said Liz. “I was the one who overreacted. I went in her room and she was drawing pictures on sheets of paper. Not nice pictures. Pictures of people crying and sticking needles in their arms. Then I realized that the sheets of paper were ones that Maggie had drawn pictures on. On the other side. I started to cry and that’s when Ben came in.”

“I yelled at her. Told her to keep her damn hands off stuff that wasn’t hers. I apologized to her later, but she acts like she doesn’t hear. Not rude. More like her mind is elsewhere. She’s hardly spoken to us since. Not working much anymore, either. Stays in her room a lot.”

“She was expressing her feelings through the drawings,” said Natasha. “It’s actually a good sign. The therapeutic value of art is well recognized and respected.”

“Maybe, but not on Maggie’s pictures,” said Ben.

“I know she feels really bad,” said Liz. “This morning she gave me a little glass mouse. She used to have it in her room. I told her to keep it, but she just acted indifferent. It’s there … on the fireplace mantle.”

Natasha saw the cute crystal mouse peeking out from the mantle over the large stone fireplace. “Why don’t you buy a big scrapbook for her to use?” she suggested.

“I did,” said Ben. “I gave it to her yesterday, but I don’t think she’s used it.”

Jack looked at Natasha and she gave a slight nod of her head. “We’ll go talk with her.”

“We’re not upset with her now,” said Liz, “but she’s been real quiet ever since. I’d appreciate it if you would tell her that we’re not angry. She acts like she doesn’t believe us.”

A few minutes later, Jack and Natasha climbed a ladder inside the barn leading to an open trap door in the loft. Marcie was batting a rope back and forth that was hanging from the open doors at the end of the loft.

“Hey, Marcie! What ya doin’?” asked Jack.

Marcie looked startled. “Just playing,” she said.

“You looked like you were in pretty deep thought,” said Natasha. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No.”

“What were you playing?” asked Jack, as he gave the rope a slap and watched it swing out the open doors at the end of the loft.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking it would be fun to swing out in the yard … but if I fell and hurt myself, I guess it wouldn’t be good.”

“Jack could tie a big knot at the end of the rope. You could stand on it and it would be safer.”

Jack caught the rope in his hand and spoke to Marcie while tying a large knot. “It wouldn’t be good if you hurt yourself. I would be upset. So would Liz and Ben.”

“No, they wouldn’t. They’re mad at me. I did a stupid thing. But what else is new,” she mumbled.

“They told us about that, but they’re not angry with you at all,” said Natasha. “As a matter of fact, they were just bragging to us about how much help you’ve been and how hard you’ve been tackling your school work.”

“Listening to them,” said Jack, “makes me really proud of you. They’re really happy with you. They’re definitely not angry with you. In fact, I think the three of you help each other much more than you realize.”

“That’s nice they said that.” She looked at her watch. “I bet dinner is ready. We should go.”

Natasha found out that Jack had not exaggerated how great the meal would be. The simplicity of the roasted free-range chicken, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli with hollandaise sauce made for a homey, mouth-watering meal. She wasn’t surprised at the freshly baked apple pie with ice cream for dessert. The aroma of the pie had greeted her when she first arrived.

Supper conversation was easygoing, which she appreciated. The occasional friction of Jack’s knee rubbing against her leg brought on fantasies of a primal nature. More intellectual conversation would have been difficult.

After dinner, she insisted on helping Liz clean up in the kitchen, while Ben went to get wood for the fireplace. She saw Jack and Marcie escape the work detail as they headed outside to walk off dinner. She didn’t mind; it gave her time alone with Liz. Time to squeeze any stories out of her about Jack. Either as a child, or as a man.

Liz told her about Ben’s heart attack and how Jack spent every spare minute he had working on the farm until Ben slowly regained his strength. She said something else. Jack was really good with Maggie and Ben Junior. He’d been like a second dad to them.

“In case you wanted to know that,” said Liz, with a smirk on her face.

Natasha smiled. “It’s good to know,” she replied.

Later, they had coffee in the living room. Marcie seemed happier and joined in on the conversation. At nine o’clock, Marcie announced that it was her bedtime, and Natasha realized that it was time to go.

They said good night at the door. Jack gave Marcie a hug first, then Liz. Natasha saw Ben standing back. He looked shy. She smiled and gave him a hug. His arms were huge and strong. She felt like a child in his grasp.

Liz hugged her and whispered, “You take good care of my little brother.”

“I will,” she whispered back.

It was then she noticed Marcie in the living room, standing on her tiptoes at the fireplace. She picked up the glass mouse and took it with her as she headed down the hall to her bedroom.