He put his head in his hands.
“I need to get ready for night school,” said Jack’s dad. “We’ll finish this discussion when I come home.”
He kissed his wife, then picked up his wallet and keys from the table and marched across the kitchen. He hesitated at the door. “I love you both.” He didn’t look back.
“That went better than I expected.” Jack’s mother squeezed Jack’s hand.
Jack stood. “It was a suspended verdict. I’ll get a life sentence when he comes home.”
“I’m sure your father will have calmed down by then. Would you like me to heat something up for you?”
“No thanks.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Jack let his arms flop down on the table. “The police have been looking at other suspects. Vargas has been doing his job. I was wrong.”
His mother laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Because you’re my mom.”
“No.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “I love you because I’m your mother. I believe you’re right because you’re Jack.”
“I was wrong, Mom.” Jack sighed. “It’s that simple. I don’t know who killed Stacy Shaw.”
“Just because you haven’t figured it out, doesn’t make you wrong.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think I’ve sat down and watched a movie or TV mystery in the past seven years that you haven’t solved before the end.”
“That’s different, Mom. Watching a crime show doesn’t make you a detective any more than watching The French Chef makes you a cook.”
“No. It doesn’t. But it’s a step in the right direction. So are all those books you read. So was the citizens’ academy class you took. How many times did you take that class?”
“Four,” Jack admitted. “They let you do ride-alongs.”
“Someday you’re going to have a little plaque on your desk that says Detective Jack Stratton.”
“But what about now?”
“Right now solving this murder is someone else’s job.” She held up a hand and lowered an eyebrow. “You can’t investigate this murder anymore, Jack. After you go into the Army, graduate college and the police academy, you’ll be equipped to investigate anything you want. And I’m sure you will be spectacular at it.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“All your father and I ask is that you stay out of the way of the investigation. Call Detective Clark if you think of something.”
Jack nodded.
“Good. Now please, will you let me heat something up for you? You have to eat.”
Jack smiled at his mom. He knew she couldn’t have been any happier about his mistakes than his dad was, but here she was, still just trying to take care of him. Still being a mom. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom. I’m going to go up to my room, but I’ll come back down for it.”
“No, I’ll bring it up.”
Jack ate supper at his computer. He only picked at his food. His throat felt thick and his whole body felt heavy. He knew he wasn’t coming down with anything; he felt cruddy because he’d failed. And the feeling sucked. He picked up his notebook and glared at it. “Stupid,” he muttered, and tossed the notebook across the room and into the wastebasket in the corner. “Chandler was right. I never should have started helping in the first place.”
Defeated, he pulled up his email. He was surprised to see that he had received responses from both the fertility clinic and the hair salon. He opened the email from the fertility clinic first. Chandler was right; they didn’t answer his question. Their reply was a terse one-sentence response: “Per policy, we do not comment on pending litigation.”
Jack opened the email from Luisa’s Luxe Hair Studio. They didn’t answer his question either—although they did include a coupon code for a discount on a Brazilian hot-oil treatment. Great, Jack thought.
He was leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling when his mother knocked on the door, holding the phone. She covered the receiver and said, “There’s a Betty Robinson on the phone who wants to speak with you.”
Betty Robinson? Why would she be calling? Jack had agreed to stop investigating the case, but if Betty had new information…
He eagerly took the phone from his mom, and she went back downstairs.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hi, Jack. It’s Betty Robinson. You asked me to call you if I saw anything in that report for Right-A-Way Shipping.”
“Did you did find something?” Jack’s heart skipped a beat.