By the time they were done, it was almost eight and Jack was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go home, enjoy his mom’s cooking, wash up, and go to bed. But he wasn’t ready to face his mom and dad yet. At least, not until he’d spoken to Aunt Haddie. Maybe she could give him some idea of just how much trouble he was in.
So when he drove Chandler back to Aunt Haddie’s, he followed him inside. They were greeted by the aroma of her baked mac and cheese, and Jack smiled.
His smile vanished when Michelle held the phone out to him. “Jack, it’s your dad.”
Chandler gave Jack a look that said, Good luck.
I’ll need it, Jack thought. Guess it’s time to face the music.
“Hello?” Jack said.
His father cleared his throat. “Jack… would you care to explain to me what happened today? I’ve heard Aunt Haddie’s version, and I just got off a call with Detective Clark. But I haven’t yet heard a word from my own son. Would you care to fill me in?”
Jack took a deep breath, then ran down everything that had happened in the park. When he finished, there was a long silence.
“Dad? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” his father said. Jack pictured him cleaning off his glasses while he gathered his thoughts. “If you believed that man was attacking that woman, you should have gotten the police, not tackled him yourself.”
“There wasn’t time to get the cops. What was I supposed to do?”
“Get the cops anyway.”
“I sent Michelle.”
“You should have waited for them.”
“Dad, I’m going to be a policeman.”
“You’re not one yet.”
Aunt Haddie set some baked mac and cheese and buttered biscuits on the table, along with a pitcher of lemonade. “Supper time, Jack.” She said it loudly enough that his father would hear.
Jack covered the receiver. “It’s my dad.”
“Oh, good. I need to speak with him.” Aunt Haddie held out a hand and smiled.
“Ah, Dad. Aunt Haddie wants to talk to you.” Jack quickly handed the phone to her.
“Hi, Ted. I just wanted to assure you that everything is fine. After I spoke with you, I had a long talk with Jack, and we discussed everything you said. I just put supper down for him. He sure did work so hard today helping Mrs. McDermott, poor woman.” She gave Jack a wink. “With him being so tired, would you mind if he spent the night?”
There was a slight pause.
“Thank you, Ted. I’ll be sure to send him home first thing in the morning, with it being his birthday.”
Aunt Haddie listened and nodded.
“Okay. Give my love to Laura.”
Jack raised his glass of lemonade in salute. “Aunt Haddie, you’re the best.”
“I try. I know it was because of me and Mrs. Martin that you got caught between the switches today. Now eat your supper and get to bed. You boys both look like you need it.”
Jack lay on the bed in his old bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Despite his physical exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep.
When the clock on the little table flipped to 11:57, Jack decided to give up on sleep. He slid out of bed and went over to the desk in the corner. Turning on the desk lamp, he grabbed his notebook and turned to a fresh page. He wrote “Why?” at the top of the page and underlined it. Then he started writing questions underneath it.
A few minutes later there was a tap on the door, and Chandler stuck his head in.
“What’s up?” Jack whispered.
Chandler slipped inside and walked over. “I saw your light turn on. What’s up? Can’t sleep?”
“You’re not sleeping either.”
Chandler looked down at Jack’s notebook. “What’s with the why?”
Jack tapped his pen on the notepad, then dropped it. “I’ve got a problem with whys. That’s what my therapist said, anyway. Why did my mother throw me away? Why did she keep me so long? Why, why, why. I hate why. I want answers. So she told me to write down the whys. That’s what I’m doing.”
“What whys?”
“Whys about Stacy Shaw. There’s a lot of things that don’t make sense to me.”
“Like what?”
“Well, why was Stacy Shaw’s car at Ford’s Crossing?”
“I still figure she was heading home and crashed. What we don’t know is why she would go into the park after,” Chandler said.
Jack tapped the page. “That’s number four on my list. Number five is why was Stacy’s cell phone in the car and not her handbag?”
Chandler scrunched up his nose and closed one eye. But his train of thought was derailed by an enormous yawn. “We can get answers tomorrow. You should go to bed.”