And Then She Was Gone(43)
“They’d believe a lily-white kid like you, Stratton, but there’s no way they’d even hear me out.”
“That’s bull—”
Just then Two Point shoved the trash barrel at Jack, turned, and sprinted toward the locked gate. Jack was taken by surprise for only a moment before he gave chase.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Chandler called out as Two Point ran.
Two Point grabbed the gate and yanked. The padlocked chain was wrapped around it loosely enough that Two Point’s slender frame was able to slip through. Jack’s hand grasped at the air in vain as Two Point scrambled away.
Jack tried to squeeze through after him, but his chest was too broad. He couldn’t fit. And Chandler wouldn’t either.
“Ha!” Two Point taunted as he jogged away backward.
“Running’s not going to do you any good!” Jack yelled. “You two-faced scumbag.”
Chandler walked up behind him. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “He can’t stay hidden forever. He’ll have to come home sometime.”
“And when he does, we’ll be waiting for him.”
12
The Red Whistle
“What a slimy piece of garbage,” Jack grumbled as they crossed the road to cut through Hamilton Park.
“So, J-Dog was telling the truth after all,” Chandler said. “It makes sense now. Why else would Jay not say anything? He’d do anything for Two.” He shook his head. “But taking the rap for stealing from an ATM?”
“Jay’s been trying to step up since his dad died. When Jay confessed, he wouldn’t have known just how much he was confessing to,” Jack said. “He didn’t know anything about this missing woman or Two trying to use the ATM card. He probably assumed Two Point just boosted a purse. He thought he was pleading guilty to petty theft. That’s just a misdemeanor.”
“And since Two Point’s on probation, Jay figured he’d take the hit,” Chandler said.
“Yep. And now it’s too late. Even if he told the truth now—which he won’t, because he would never flip on his brother—no one would believe him. It’d be his word against Two’s.”
“But what about the Facebook picture?” Chandler asked. “Can you show it to that detective you know?”
“Detective Clark. I’ll try.”
They were walking toward a little man-made pond about the size of a kidney-shaped football field. Beside it stood a white wooden pavilion, and inside, a woman paced back and forth across the weathered floorboards.
As they passed, Jack could hear her muttering to herself. He glanced over his shoulder, watching her, and then suddenly stopped.
Chandler gave him a little shove. “Don’t stare.”
“Do you see her bag?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s tan with gold swirls.”
“So? Let’s go.” Chandler nudged him.
Jack walked back toward the pavilion.
“Jack,” Chandler muttered. “What are you doing? She looks crazy. Let’s just go.”
Jack ignored his friend and headed for the pavilion. Before he reached the steps, the woman stopped pacing and spun around to face him. Her hand flew to the big red whistle she wore on a chain around her neck. Her face was thin and so was her scraggly hair. It was wispy, and in the pale light it looked like a dandelion that was missing chunks of its fluffy seeds. Jack could see clear down to her scalp.
Jack held up his hand as if he were approaching a frightened animal. “Hello.” He softened his voice and posture as he stopped on the bottom step. The wood creaked. “I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”
The woman clutched her whistle tighter and looked sideways at Jack. “You’re not a policeman.”
Jack nodded. “You’re right, I’m not a policeman. But I was wondering where you got such a pretty handbag.”
She clutched the bag tight. The whistle rattled in her hand. “It’s mine.”
“I’m sure it is.” Jack smiled. “I thought it looked so pretty that I should get one for my girlfriend.”
“It is pretty.” The woman’s finger traced along the gold swirl on the side of the handbag. “I like your cap. It’s red like my whistle.” She held up her whistle and pointed at Jack’s Red Sox cap.
“Thank you. Do you know where I could get a bag like that for my girlfriend? Where did you get yours?”
She shook her head, and the wisps of hair bobbed back and forth. One hand went to her head and tried to flatten down the flyaways. “I don’t know where to buy one. Who are you?” she asked suddenly. Her movements reminded Jack of a frightened bird.