James Andrus: The Perfect Scream

It was late afternoon and John Stallings found himself once again roaming the streets of Jacksonville considering what he’d just discovered and if he should tell anyone else. As a cop and a resident, the streets were utterly familiar to him. He liked to call them the mean streets of Jacksonville, even though he knew some big-city people might scoff at the idea. But the South had an edgy toughness to it that no one truly understood. It wasn’t just number of firearms on the street compared to New York or Philadelphia; it was a multi-generational attitude that people just didn’t want to take any shit. Ironically, that was also one of the reasons people were generally more polite. To avoid confrontation.

Stallings searched every face that passed him on the busy sidewalk wondering if one day he would stumble across Jeanie walking casually to a job. Why not? He apparently could’ve done it just a couple years ago. That was what bothered him now. Maybe if he had looked just a little bit harder and been more alert he might have seen her walking along the street to a job or to meet a boy or to go to a party at the fraternity house near one of the universities. The whole idea made him feel sick.

He did sometimes feel sorry for himself. Especially when he saw young families with their kids laughing at the table at a restaurant or at a park. That was all he ever wanted and he really didn’t think it was too much to ask.

The photograph of Jeanie and Zach Halston was neatly tucked in his shirt pocket just above his heart with his light jacket covering the pocket for safety. But the photograph weighed on him like a heavy burden he was not able to hand off or even tell anyone about. It was Maria who really concerned him. How would she take news like this? It might be the one thing to push her over the edge.

It was also times like this when the only thing in his head was Jeanie that he wondered if, even for the briefest moment, he’d done something wrong to drive her off. All parents of runaways thought the same thing. It’s almost like the stages of dying ending in acceptance. The parents of kids who end up being serious drug users have a similar guilt that leads to doubts. Was there something else they could’ve done? Had they missed some sort of clue? The whole issue was far too complex for easy answers. Sometimes Stallings wondered if an extra sport here or more attention there might steer a kid away from a bad influence. Who knew what intricate formula went into making a happy, successful child? Maybe it was just luck. Whatever the reason, a well-adjusted kid was a precious commodity. Beyond all cost.

Stallings realized sometimes he spent too much time roaming the streets hoping to recapture what he’d lost. But now, for the first time in a long time, he wondered if his Jeanie might come back on her own.

Once she was back at her desk, Patty felt at home with a stack of leads that would keep her busy and occupy her mind. This was an ideal pace for her because she had no downtime, but there wasn’t the stress associated with the usual homicides that seemed to roll in to the office far too often.

She’d been very impressed by the way her partner had handled the young stoner over near the university. For some reason she’d had the feeling Stallings wanted to clobber young Connor Tate, but instead, he had sat down like a father and chatted with him while she looked through the rest of the apartment. They had a few names and addresses to run down but nothing that pointed to any foul play. Patty had learned early on in her career in the crimes/persons unit to never jump to conclusions. More missing people turned up safe than turned up dead. More murderers turned out to be friends or relatives of the victim than strangers. It was nothing like TV and she was glad of it.

She was also happy to see Stallings visit his estranged wife more often. She knew the stress of losing Jeanie had torn the family apart, but Stallings had also had to deal with reuniting with his father, then learning the old man had Alzheimer’s. It was enough to break anyone’s spirit, but no one could tell Stallings had any personal issues at all. The guy just seemed to go and go and go without ever wearing down. He had lost some of his Joe Friday look, tending to wear more casual, long-sleeved shirts and leave them untucked to cover his gun. It made it easier for them to get into a lot of places in Jacksonville. Stallings had a charm with women that he didn’t even realize. His easygoing manner coupled with his rugged, natural good looks, which made him look like an intellectual athlete or a doctor who had played sports in college, made it easy for him to deal with females. But sometimes a shortcut to dealing with men involved a fist or an elbow in places no one wanted a bruise.

Patty stepped back from her chair and stretched her legs, trying to assess how much her back hurt. She had to admit she felt pretty good overall and probably wouldn’t be using any painkillers tonight and hadn’t worried about the Xanax since yesterday. Part of it might’ve been that her mind had been occupied as she thought about the runner named Ken she had met the other night. He’d made a couple of cracks in a self-deprecating way that had made her laugh. But there was no doubt the guy was a full-on athlete. She liked that. A lot.

She pulled out a sheet of paper where she had scrawled his cell phone number and wondered what would happen if she gave athletic Ken a call tonight.

All of a sudden she felt like she might need the Xanax.

After a quiet few days, Lynn liked the loud music. Friday nights were made for loud music. The throbbing bass reminded her of a place she used to go to in Tallahassee right off Tennessee Street, almost across from the university. Back when she had a much more carefree life, when her biggest concern was passing business accounting or making sure her parents didn’t find out that she was drinking underage. She was the smartest of all her siblings because she’d moved away from her hometown of Jacksonville for school. The others had always lived with their parents or had to worry about them dropping in on them. The East Coast was too close together. It didn’t matter what school you attended, you were never more than a few hours away from her parents. They weren’t opposed to the kids moving out or getting their own apartment and if one of her siblings was going to a local school, like any parent, they showed up unannounced on a number of occasions. But never in Tallahassee. That long drive along I-10 was too much to risk without a phone call first.

The beat of the bass tickled her stomach as her eyes scanned the crowded room. Finally she saw the guy she was searching for at the far end of the bar, leaning back like he was a manager watching the crowd. He was a few inches taller than anyone around him; his blond hair picked up the light over the bar. Lynn waited patiently while he started to check out everyone at the bar, skipping past single men and most couples. Finally his eyes fell on her and stayed. She felt a little thrill and didn’t mind the compliment. She wasn’t Nostradamus about men, but she had predicted he would work his way down the bar shortly after he assessed her. He strolled, casually nodding to a few of the men because everyone knew this was his usual hangout.

Before she knew it, he eased up to the bar right next to her, smiled, and said, “May I buy you a drink?”

She gave him a subdued smile, not wanting him to think she would fall all over him like most women probably did. She shrugged and said, “Sure, why not?”

He leaned down to place his elbows on the bar so he could look her right in the eye. “Has anyone ever said you have the prettiest eyes in the whole world?”

When she smiled at his comment, the inevitable follow-up came out.