Page 9 of Justice for Aleta

He was going to her house.

Tires squealing, he barreled out of the parking lot and down the city streets. Two miles down from the restaurant, he realized he was driving far too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see her, to tell her, to know she understood that he believed her.

The address was a four-unit apartment building, and according to the note, she lived in unit B. He straightened himself up and looked around before he knocked. Yeah, her little car was out front, so she was there unless she was with someone else, and he highly doubted that was the case. With only a wee bit of trepidation, he knocked on the door.

It opened slightly and one bright hazel eye looked out. “Yes?” She threw it open wide and her jaw dropped. “Jack? What are you doing here?”

He was so excited he could barely speak. “You were right, Aleta. You were one hundred percent right. There was a gun. There was a gunshot. Somebody shot out that car’s right front tire.That’swhy he hit your van! You didn’t imagine it. It was real.”

Aleta gave him a calm, simple smile. “Thank you for believing me. Would you like to come in?”

An incredible smell filled her whole house, and Jack recognized it immediately: Chili. “Please. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee, and I made sweet tea this morning.”

“Tea will be fine.”Why the fuck am I making myself comfortable here? Why did I even come in?Jack couldn’t figure it out. It was as though the woman had some kind of magnet and he was steel, drawn to her without a reason he could fathom. “So that’s all I wanted to tell you.”

She spoke to him with her back turned as she reached for a glass. “You have no idea why there was a man with a gun there?”

“Not a clue. I was hoping you could tell me something about him. Anything. Even if it seems insignificant, it could be important.”

He heard the ice cubesclinkinto the glass, and she turned to the table and poured it full. “It’s kinda fuzzy, but I do remember a little. He was tall, and the gun was huge. I remember thinking it was the kind of gun I’d expect someone like him to carry.”

“Someone like him… What does that mean?”

“I dunno. Kinda rough. Facial hair, but not neat. And shaggy hair.”

“What color?”

“Dark. I’m not sure what color exactly, but dark. He was wearing one of those long coats…”

“Trench coat?”

Aleta shook her head. “No. Like with the flap in the back, and the split, and?”

“You mean a duster?”

She smiled. “Yeah! That’s it. A duster. Like a cowboy.”

Well, I suppose WyattEarpwasout on the BGP that morning, Jack’s brain hummed. “And a hat?”

“No. No hat. But it was weird. His voice didn’t match his hair and face, or his clothes.”

“Meaning?”

“If he was trying to act like a cowboy, it wasn’t working. When he talked to Joshua, he sounded like… I went to NewYork once on a school trip, and he sounded like the people there.”

Jack let out a snort. “Yankee.”

“Yes! Very! It was very odd. Very, very odd.” She poured herself a glass and sat down in the chair near Jack’s. “Joshua kept telling him, ‘I can jump your car if your battery’s down. I’m sorry I hit it.’”

“You remember hitting it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t until just now.”

“How did that happen?”

“It was barely sticking out in the road. I think that’s why Joshua clipped him. We just kind of glanced off him and came to rest sort of beside him.”

“So he was between you and the guardrail?” She nodded. “Big car? Little car?”

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