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And Then She Was Gone(51)

By:Christopher Greyson


Footsteps in the hallway made him turn. Aunt Haddie walked back into the kitchen.

“Do you have a second, Jackie?”

Jack sat up straighter when she pulled back a chair and sat down.

“Mrs. Martin wanted me to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Jack chuckled bitterly. “A lot of good I did. I got Jay looking at a murder charge.”

“But you tried.” She reached out and patted the back of his hand.

“Well, at least I’m done messing up.”

“No. Now Jay needs your help even more.”

“My help?” Jack looked into the old woman’s eyes. She had no idea how close he and Chandler had come to getting arrested. “He doesn’t need my help. The only person who can help Jay is Tommy.”

“Charlotte heard from Tommy today; he’s not going to do anything. Tommy said Jay is on his own.”

“I’m sorry. But in that case, Jay needs to talk to his lawyer. Or the police.”

“He did. They don’t believe him. Jackie… no one else is going to help him.”

“There’s nothing I can do. I already stuck my neck out—not for Jay but for his mom’s sake—and what did it get me? I thought they were going to arrest me for a minute. I don’t like Jay anyway. He’s done enough bad stuff in his life that he never paid the price for. What goes around comes around. I’m not helping him.”

Aunt Haddie pointed at the kitchen door. “Ever since you walked through that door, you’ve told me that one day you’re going to be an officer of the peace.”

“And I am.”

“Then what kind of policeman do you want to be? Are you only going to help white folk?”

Jack’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. “WHAT?”

“Don’t you raise your voice.”

“Seriously?” Jack pointed at himself. “There is no way you’re saying I’m a racist!”

“Of course not.” Aunt Haddie held up a hand. “Now lower your voice, or better yet, listen. You wouldn’t think twice about the color of someone’s skin. I know that about you as certain as I know the sky is blue. But why do you draw a line on who you’ll help? And where do you draw that line? Are you only going to help little old ladies whose purses get stolen?”

“That’s different. She needed my help.”

“Jay needs your help. You and I both know he didn’t do it. But no one else believes him.”

“The little old lady was nice,” Jack muttered.

“Oh, so you’re only going to help nice folk. What about rich folk? Will you help them? How about plump middle-aged ladies like me? Or are you only going to help young skinny girls?”

“This is different, Aunt Haddie. Do you know why they call him J-Dog? It’s short for Junkyard Dog. That’s what he’s like. He’s—” Jack exhaled. “Do you know why I hate him? I had a pin. It was a cheap silver pin, half of it looked like it got run over by a car, but at the top it said Hope. My birth mother gave it to me. She said my father gave it to her. It was the only thing I had from either of them. I took it off when we went swimming, and guess what? A little later, I caught J-Dog in the act of stealing it. And instead of giving it back to me, he threw it in the pond.”

The look on Aunt Haddie’s face was a mix of confusion and anger. “Why?”

Jack laughed bitterly. “Because he’s mean. I doubt he even knows why he did it. Aunt Haddie, some people are born mean.”

Aunt Haddie’s voice softened. “And some people change.”

Jack huffed.

“But even if they don’t, black, white, rich, poor, or mean as a dog—a carpenter’s son I know came to help everyone. And that’s what we’re supposed to do. Love the unlovable.”

Jack looked away.

“Besides, you don’t know why someone acts the way that they do. There’s still some good in that boy. I know it. And even if I didn’t, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. If you’re a police officer, you’ve got to help everyone.”

Aunt Haddie waited until Jack looked into her eyes.

“You need to ask yourself a question before you put on that badge, Jackie. Who are you going to protect and serve? If the answer isn’t everyone, then you’d better think twice about becoming a policeman.”

Jack winced.

“Right now, Jay needs your help.” Aunt Haddie reached out and took his hand. “Will you help him?”

“But Aunt Haddie, what can I do? I’m not a cop.” He shrugged. “I’m just… Jack.”

“Do me one favor? Pray on it. You’ll do that for me?”