Chapter 11 Distractions & Decisions #2
Jon supposed he had to respect a man who adhered to rules, even if the man was Army.
He fished the folded-over card from his pocket and passed it across the counter.
“I just returned to Oregon a couple days ago. This was being held for me. I’m aware it’s been years, and I don’t know how my grandfather might’ve paid for that kind of long-term storage. ”
Alex took the card, skimming over the note and flipping it over to the technical side with the key and address.
He made a humming sound and side-stepped to the flatscreen computer monitor tucked half out of sight.
With one hand he typed in some information, clicked something open, and stared for long seconds at whatever displayed in response.
“Well, fuck me,” he finally said. “I remember this account. Miles was an old fishing buddy of my dad’s, so they worked out an agreement for extra long-term storage services.
” He tapped the screen as if in reference.
“Looks like your grandfather set this up with the intention to transfer it over from the start. It was prepaid on a uniquely discounted rate for a specified shit-long time, which hasn’t expired yet.
” He turned away from the monitor and met Jon’s stare again.
“Forgive the personal question, but I assume your grandfather’s passed? ”
Jon inclined his head. “Years ago.”
“My condolences.” He handed back the index card.
“There’s some paperwork we’ll need from you, including your signature, to let you take active control of the unit.
Technically you don’t have to decide today.
The balance isn’t set to expire for about three more years, but if you do roll it over, we’ll have to renegotiate rates. ”
Jon grunted. They’d negotiated on him making at least twenty years, then. He felt a little like a failure for a moment.
Until Jenna slipped her hand into his and squeezed firmly.
Alex produced two sheets of paper. “If you only want to gain access long enough to empty it out, this is all we’ll need.
As long as the unit is emptied and possession returned before the prepaid time expires, no more money would be necessary.
” He turned, grabbed a pre-prepared set of other papers, and set them beside the first. “If you want to keep the unit moving forward, we’ll need some extra information.
Contacts for emergency circumstances, signatures saying you understand the conditions in which we’re obligated to let third party agencies into your space, addresses for billing and communication. Red tape shit.”
Jon nodded.
Alex rested his fingers over the larger pile of papers, prompting Jon to meet his stare again.
“I’m not supposed to encourage this, but vet to vet, if you don’t have an address, there’s a VA in town that can hook you up with a P.O.
Box. Maybe help you find a place if you plan on staying local.
I’ve worked with them, they’re not too bad. ”
The offer caught Jon off-guard. Alex’s words were entirely reasonable.
Worse, he had a point. Jon had been letting himself put other things ahead of securing a place to live, even temporarily.
But he sure as hell wasn’t going to use Tom’s address again.
The old airman had done enough for him already.
The ringing of Jenna’s phone cut through the air, shattering Jon’s train of thought.
Both men tensed, heads snapping her way, and Jenna offered a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, sorry!” She dug into her purse, but her movement paused before she could silence or otherwise dismiss the call.
“It’s Martha,” she said, turning her gaze up to Jon.
He didn’t need her to explain, or voice the apology already shining in her eyes. He nodded. “Don’t wander.”
She rolled her eyes as she connected the call and stepped away from them. “Martha? Is Steph—”
Jon forced his attention at least mostly forward.
Whatever the call was about, Jenna would tell him when he was finished with the storage situation.
Or earlier, if she couldn’t contain it. “Would it be possible to use her address for now? I don’t have my own place yet, but I do plan on sticking around.
And until I figure that out, or get everything else set up, I’ll need storage anyway. ”
Alex frowned. “We’d have to put her on the paperwork as a sub-account holder. Otherwise, people’d be in here spouting off addresses for every damn place.”
Fair enough. “Then hopefully she’ll stand still long enough to sign some papers.” It would just be a formality, anyway. He didn’t intend to incur any penalties.
Alex reached below the desk, where he’d pulled the other paperwork from, and Jon’s ears tuned instinctively back in to Jenna’s partially hushed words.
“I’m in Klamath Falls right now,” she was saying, “so it’s on the way back, anyway. You just stay there, okay? I’ll call you later.”
Well, that didn’t sound like good news. He wished he was surprised.
Voice quieter than it had been, Alex said, “Sounds like you’ve got more problems than straightening out this mess.”
Jon rolled his jaw. “You’re aware of the uptick in missing women in the area, I assume?”
Alex arched a brow at the question. “I do live around here.”
Jenna stomped back up to his side, steam all but billowing off her head. “How much trouble do you think you’d get in if you punched a sheriff or one of his deputies straight in the face?”
Both of Jon’s brows leapt up his forehead.
Alex barked out a laugh.
Jon might have reacted that way, too, normally. But the anger radiating off her kept his humor in check, so he said, “Depends on the circumstances. I am technically a civilian now.”
Jenna huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, maybe you can afford a lawyer after I slug him, then.”
Jon reached over and settled a hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer and lowering his voice.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Let’s finish this up, then you can tell me what that dumbfuck did this time.
” He had a growing suspicion, but the lobby of someone else’s business was hardly the place for any of that conversation.
Alex didn’t seem to agree. “What does this have to do with the missing women?”
Jenna looked up, her gaze bouncing between Alex and Jon.
Finally, she said, “One of my employees disappeared the other night. A nineteen-year-old girl. That was her mother who called. She’s finally admitting that this doesn’t feel like something Steph would do—she shut us out when we tried talking to her yesterday—so about an hour ago she called to make a formal missing person’s report. ”
Jon felt his brow dip. A formal report was good. Necessary, even. But Jenna would know that, so he doubted it was why she was upset.
Jenna sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Leeland County Sheriff’s Office is staffed by bullies.
Martha had the misfortune of getting the same bitch I’ve been dealing with all week, and Deputy Bitch told her that Steph’s a legal adult and therefore allowed to come and go whenever she wants.
That they’re ‘too busy to prioritize every clingy parent who can’t deal with empty nest syndrome’ and yes, that’s apparently exactly what she said. ”
Alex cursed.
Jon shared the sentiment, but instead of voicing it, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of Jenna’s head.
“Do you mind being my local point of contact until I find a place? You’ll have to sign some things, but it’s just for record purposes.
It’s the only way I can get into this locker and move forward.
” It didn’t feel important in the grand scheme of things, but they were already there.
Their entire trip to Campbell’s would have been a waste of time if they left as things were.
He could feel Jenna re-orienting herself for the few seconds it took her to respond before she gave herself a subtle shake, then bobbed her head. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She looked outward again. “What do I need to sign?”
Alex had shuffled the papers previously set out on the counter, removing one stack, adding another, and setting both side-by-side. He indicated one. “I’ll need your information here, ma’am.” He indicated the other. “This set’s for you, Jarhead.”
Jon’s lips twitched. He released his hold on Jenna so they could step up to the counter simultaneously and set to work. And while he filled in information and initialed acknowledgment of common-sense rules, his mind wandered.
People disappeared every day, but he’d come home to a spike severe enough that the radio newscasters were talking about it every damn time he turned the thing on.
And Jenna had researched some quick information on the way to Martha’s the night before.
Even without the current rise, Oregon had a problem.
It consistently had one of the highest disappearance rates in the country.
That wasn’t the kind of thing Jon had been cognizant of as a teen in a small-ass town.
As a grown man, with useful skills, he felt like he ought to be doing something about it. Not just because the latest victim might well be a girl who worked for and meant something to his woman—but hell, there was nothing wrong with that reason, either.
His fingers gripped the pen a little tighter.
Then there was the other primary problem.
Jenna’s mysterious home invader. Jon didn’t think it was likely the culprit was much of a mystery, but having a suspect didn’t mean he knew where or how to find the bastard.
What it did mean was that he’d be spending every night staking out her apartment if she insisted on being stubbornly independent.
He couldn’t let the threat of that go unaddressed, whether it proved to be her ex or not.
He hoped it did, just so he could beat the shit out of the fucker.
Jenna was right. He was going to need a lawyer.