Read Online Jack Stone - Wild Justice by Vivien Sparx - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vivien Sparx
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9.30am. Stone glanced at his watch. He had some time to kill.
He went back along Main Street to the café. The man was standing behind a wide glass counter, sliding cakes and slices onto display shelves.
“Find the library?”
Stone nodded. “Yeah. It’s not open yet.”
The man said nothing. Gave Stone a look as if to say, ‘of course not, stupid.’ Stone glanced up at the blackboard above the man’s head. There was a column of chalked menu items under a ‘Breakfast’ heading, and another column under a ‘Lunch’ heading. Stone thought about ordering, then remembered Lilley Pond had mentioned a food violation. He didn’t take the chance.
“Can I get a Coke, please?”
“You want that in a glass or in a can?”
“Can.”
The man took Stone’s money and nodded to a large glass-fronted refrigerator. “Help yourself,” he said.
Stone took the can of Coke back outside and sat at the sidewalk table. Stretched out, drank slowly. Watched the traffic passing by, not really looking for anything, but noticing everything.
Gradually the town seemed to be coming alive. He saw shop doors opening one by one, and a couple of cars pulled over and parked as townsfolk went about their daily business. The sun crept over the roofline of the buildings and blasted down on the sidewalk.
By 9.30am he had seen everything he needed to see of Windswept, Arizona.
Stone finished his Coke and went back to the town library.
Thirteen.
Stone was the only customer at the l ibrary. He stood patiently at the counter until a young woman with mousy brown hair and glasses came from a back room wheeling a steel-framed trolley of plastic colored bins filled with books. The woman looked like she was in her early twenties. She had a serious expression on her face, wore no make-up – but probably should have. She looked plain in every way, right down to the straight grey skirt and the white blouse that had ruffles of lace around the buttoned-high neckline.
She glanced up from where she was trying to steer the trolley, saw the imposing figure of Jack Stone, and looked surprised, like maybe she wasn’t accustomed to people visiting the library.
Stone smiled at her. In the background he could hear the hum of an air conditioner unit. The woman must have just turned it on because the air was warm and still.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” the woman smiled like it was an expression she was unfamiliar with. It looked to Stone more like a grimace – and maybe it was. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” Stone smiled again, forcing the friendliness into his voice. “I’d like to look at your newspaper records.”
“Newspaper records?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Records of what, exactly?” the woman asked.
“The last few weeks of newspapers,” Stone explained. “I was hoping to find more information about the two young girls who went missing from around here last week.”
The woman nodded, still a little unsure . She went behind the counter taking brisk little scissor-like steps and hoisted a file of old newspapers onto the counter-top. The pile was about six inches thick, and held about forty newspapers. The top couple of editions were ragged around the edges, the pages curled. All the papers were strung together with two long pieces of leather tied through a long flat piece of timber. Stone turned the papers around so he could read them, and then glanced up at the woman.
“These papers – the ‘Rapture Regional News’ . Isn’t there a local newspaper?”
“That is the local newspaper for these parts,” the woman explained. “The only one. Windswept doesn’t have its own paper. We get the ‘Rapture Regional’ . It covers all the local news from around here and other outlying parts.”
Stone nodded, processing. “Where is Rapture?”
“About ten miles north,” the woman said. “It’s the next town along.”
“And it’s bigger than Windswept?”
“Much,” the woman nodded. “It’s like the main
He went back along Main Street to the café. The man was standing behind a wide glass counter, sliding cakes and slices onto display shelves.
“Find the library?”
Stone nodded. “Yeah. It’s not open yet.”
The man said nothing. Gave Stone a look as if to say, ‘of course not, stupid.’ Stone glanced up at the blackboard above the man’s head. There was a column of chalked menu items under a ‘Breakfast’ heading, and another column under a ‘Lunch’ heading. Stone thought about ordering, then remembered Lilley Pond had mentioned a food violation. He didn’t take the chance.
“Can I get a Coke, please?”
“You want that in a glass or in a can?”
“Can.”
The man took Stone’s money and nodded to a large glass-fronted refrigerator. “Help yourself,” he said.
Stone took the can of Coke back outside and sat at the sidewalk table. Stretched out, drank slowly. Watched the traffic passing by, not really looking for anything, but noticing everything.
Gradually the town seemed to be coming alive. He saw shop doors opening one by one, and a couple of cars pulled over and parked as townsfolk went about their daily business. The sun crept over the roofline of the buildings and blasted down on the sidewalk.
By 9.30am he had seen everything he needed to see of Windswept, Arizona.
Stone finished his Coke and went back to the town library.
Thirteen.
Stone was the only customer at the l ibrary. He stood patiently at the counter until a young woman with mousy brown hair and glasses came from a back room wheeling a steel-framed trolley of plastic colored bins filled with books. The woman looked like she was in her early twenties. She had a serious expression on her face, wore no make-up – but probably should have. She looked plain in every way, right down to the straight grey skirt and the white blouse that had ruffles of lace around the buttoned-high neckline.
She glanced up from where she was trying to steer the trolley, saw the imposing figure of Jack Stone, and looked surprised, like maybe she wasn’t accustomed to people visiting the library.
Stone smiled at her. In the background he could hear the hum of an air conditioner unit. The woman must have just turned it on because the air was warm and still.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello,” the woman smiled like it was an expression she was unfamiliar with. It looked to Stone more like a grimace – and maybe it was. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” Stone smiled again, forcing the friendliness into his voice. “I’d like to look at your newspaper records.”
“Newspaper records?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Records of what, exactly?” the woman asked.
“The last few weeks of newspapers,” Stone explained. “I was hoping to find more information about the two young girls who went missing from around here last week.”
The woman nodded, still a little unsure . She went behind the counter taking brisk little scissor-like steps and hoisted a file of old newspapers onto the counter-top. The pile was about six inches thick, and held about forty newspapers. The top couple of editions were ragged around the edges, the pages curled. All the papers were strung together with two long pieces of leather tied through a long flat piece of timber. Stone turned the papers around so he could read them, and then glanced up at the woman.
“These papers – the ‘Rapture Regional News’ . Isn’t there a local newspaper?”
“That is the local newspaper for these parts,” the woman explained. “The only one. Windswept doesn’t have its own paper. We get the ‘Rapture Regional’ . It covers all the local news from around here and other outlying parts.”
Stone nodded, processing. “Where is Rapture?”
“About ten miles north,” the woman said. “It’s the next town along.”
“And it’s bigger than Windswept?”
“Much,” the woman nodded. “It’s like the main
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