Six hundred forty two hours and thirty-six minutes. Riley Jacob Moss has been missing for six hundred forty two hours and thirty-six minutes and I’m the only one that seems affected. Maybe it’s because I knew the truth about Riley. I knew about the secrets he couldn’t face here. I knew things about Riley that he wouldn’t even tell his family.

To anyone on the outside, it looked just like a kidnapping. The kind of kidnapping you see on movies, but the truth is Riley was a great liar. If I didn’t know him so well, I would’ve believed the whole story myself.

I looked at my groggy, tearstained face in the bathroom mirror. The tearstains were permanent now and I always looked tired. The constant worrying over Riley was evident to my classmates and teachers, but no one asked questions. Everyday I came to school in ratty sweats and hoodies and tried to make it through classes I didn’t care about. I rubbed my index finger over the dark circles under my eyes and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Paige, please get to class.” Mr. Simmons was waiting for me outside of the bathroom, which wouldn’t have been as creepy if he wasn’t always grinning. I nodded my head slowly and took a slow step towards Coach Taylor’s room.

From looking in the small window, I could tell that Jackson just made a pass at Amy for the umpteenth time today. Amy was the quiet, nerdy type that a jock like Jackson would never go for. I tried to find the humor in the situation, but failed miserably. The mood inside the classroom was so different from the way I felt. My world was black and white while everyone else was living in color. Damn Riley. Damn him and his selfishness. I hated him for telling me what he did; the one thing that made it impossible for him to stay in town.

His father’s cattle company wasn’t doing well, and Riley felt obligated to fix the problems his family didn’t know how. Riley was an excellent gambler. Poker was his game. He made thousands gambling with shady people in basements that smelled like cigarette smoke and beer. I hated it, but he assured me it was safe. I insisted on going with him once and I never went back. I didn’t enjoy watching my scrawny friend get stared down by muscular thugs. Riley had no fear when it came to the bone-chilling stares from thugs and other gamblers. He only feared the man who ran every poker game.

They called him the JAG. No one ever saw him, and no one ever spoke to him. Riley said he didn’t even know what he looked like, but the JAG had the power to take down any man that owed him money or any gambler that didn’t follow the rules. I remembered Riley telling me he hoped he never had to see the face of the JAG.

When the Moss Cattle Company was being threatened, Riley decided to play poker with some of the more serious gamblers in town. The men were tougher and more serious about the game, but Riley didn’t care. He threw in what little money the cattle company had left. He confided in me and I advised against it, but Riley was confident. He couldn’t have predicted the off night he would have. He lost every cent. When Riley came back from his game that night, he was completely distraught. I had never seen him cry like that, and that’s why I understood when he told me he had to leave. He couldn’t face his family, or the thugs that still sought him for debts he couldn’t pay off.


I shook the horrific memories out of my head and opened the door to Coach Taylor’s room. “Yeah, but the only one that would actually go is Ril-“ Preston cut himself off when he saw me walk in. An awkward silence settled over the room as I took my seat. I laid my head on my desk and pretended to sleep, hoping the hour would end soon.

Coach Taylor was reviewing film behind a desk when Alice Black, the school secretary, walked in. I tried not to eavesdrop when she walked around the side of the desk to whisper to Coach, but my desk was too close and some good school gossip might get my mind off Riley.

“They have some new information about the Moss kid,” Alice whispered and I sat up in my seat, “They think it was homicide.” Wait, homicide? Murder? I didn’t have time to even process the new information that was indirectly given to me before I ran out of the classroom. I didn’t know where I was running, but I knew I didn’t want to be around any of my classmates. I couldn’t listen to people that said they were Riley’s friends talk about him. None of them cared.

“Paige! Wait!” I turned to see Jackson Grey exiting the school at a sprint. He caught up to me quicker than I expected, so I decided to let him talk. He probably just wanted to try and talk me into staying at school, but that wasn’t happening. “Hey, I heard what Alice said. I’m really sorry. He was my friend too. I miss him.” Jackson took a deep breath and his eyes went glossy. Was he going to cry? “I understand if you don’t want to stay at school, but just know I’m here if you want to talk.” Jackosn rubbed the unshed tears from his eyes and gave me a quick hug before running back into the building.

I picked up my run again. I ran towards my backyard that was less than a block away from the school. When I finally reached the familiar faded fence, I sat down in my favorite corner. I used to sit in that corner and read books, or just spend some time alone. I laid my head back against the fence and let out a sigh of anger. Did the thugs Riley play poker with find him? Were they the ones that murdered him? Was my best friend really dead?

I felt the anger wash through my body. I started digging my fingers into the cold hard ground in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pain inside my chest. I felt something cold and plastic touch my middle finger on my right hand. What did I bury out here? I dug around a little more and pulled the small piece from the dirt.

I gasped when I recognized the plastic. It was white and round with red stripes around the edge; a poker chip. I turned it over in my hand to reveal three words written in marker that sent chills down my spine. Jackson did this. Jackson did what? Riley and Jackson were friends. He would never do anything to hurt Riley, unless they had an altercation I didn’t know about. I flipped the piece over and over in my hand looking for another clue. “C’mon Riley. Give me something,” I whispered into the empty yard.
I tried to go through the last conversations I had with Riley, especially the ones about his game. I almost choked on the gasp that was rising in my throat when the pieces finally clicked. Jackson Aaron Grey; the JAG.