Free Girl Jacked by Christopher Greyson

and said. “‘You don’t know jack, kid.’”
    Replacement stared at him. “Then she just up and left?”
    He nodded. “That was the last thing she ever said to me.”
    “You were left in the middle of a bus station?” Replacement’s eyes were huge.
    “Not exactly the middle. I was sort of to the right–”
    She smacked his shoulder. “You know what I mean. What did you do?”
    “I did what every seven year old would do if they got dumped in a bus depot at night.”
    “You cried?”
    “I got caught stealing a pocket book,” Jack laughed.
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. I stole it so I could get enough money to get a ticket to go with her. Anyway, I got pinched and then the whirlwind into the system began. Police station, youth services, counselors, court, lawyer… I never had so much attention in my life, and I hated it. No one talks to a whore’s kid, but now everyone was asking me questions. I was seven but…” Jack raised his head. “What about you, kid?”
    “I… I don’t like to talk about it.” She wrapped her arms around her chest and crossed her legs.
    “That’s fair. Here I am baring my soul and…”
    Replacement’s lip began to quiver.
    “Sorry.” He held both hands up. “I shouldn’t have butt in.” Jack moved to the window and looked out into the darkness.
    Replacement shuffled over and sat down.
    Jack watched one lone car drive down the street. After a few minutes, he turned and nodded toward the photo. At the bottom was a printed title ‘Check out my new ride!!’ “Who added the title?”
    “I guess Michelle?” Replacement shrugged.
    “Is that her car?”
    “She got it when Aunt Haddie stopped driving.”
    A wave of guilt washed over Jack again, and he tried to forget how he had left the old woman to fend for herself.
    “Okay. Then the picture is a couple of years old. How often did she call?”
    “She called all the time, almost every day.”
    “When was the last call?”
    “Look. I wrote it up.” She grabbed the calendar off the desk and flipped the pages back twice. “She called Aunt Haddie but the calls stopped on the eighteenth. She was supposed to come home December 21, Saturday evening. We called her Sunday thinking that maybe she just hadn’t left yet but she never called back. By Monday morning, we both freaked out and started calling the college campus police. They got back to us and said she transferred. I knew that was garbage, so we called the police.”
    “When was that?” Jack was making notes too.
    “December 23.” She pointed to the calendar. “I went to the Fairfield Sheriff’s Department that afternoon and after an hour of filling out the missing person report; they said I couldn’t because I’m not her ‘real’ sister. I said that was bull, and he sucks, and I asked if I could talk to a real cop.”
    “Hold up. Which officer were you speaking with?”
    “I don’t know. Officer Jerk Bag. Some creep. He says I have to be blood related. I told him that she didn’t have any blood relations living so how was that going to work? He said he needed blood for the report, and I offered to show him blood, and then they asked me to leave!” She looked genuinely surprised.
    “A nurse called and explained that Aunt Haddie was too ill to come to the police station so another cop was sent out and took the report from her. We kept calling. The cops just kept blowing us off, telling us to wait. We didn’t know what else to do. Then Aunt Haddie said to track you down.” She looked up expectantly.
    “Okay. What do we know?” He grabbed the notebook. He wrote the titles “DATE” and “ACTIONS” on one page. He wrote “FACTS” in large letters for a title on the next page then pushed the notebook and pen to Replacement.
    “Can we use the computer? Twenty-first century?” She made a face.
    “Humor me. I like to be able to carry it around.”
    Replacement lifted the laptop and made it float up and down.
    “Call me old-fashioned.”
    Replacement