by BJ Bourg
“Well, I’m glad you’re finally starting to come to your senses.” David settled into his chair. “Now, I know you robbed Kim, so tell me why you did it.”
“What’s my bond?”
“There is no bond.”
“Of course there’s a bond.” I sat a little straighter in my chair. “This isn’t a capital murder charge. What’s the bond amount?”
A wicked smile played across David’s lips. “The judge understands that you’re a very resourceful man and you seem to have friends with deep pockets, so he figured the safest thing for my victim would be for you to sit in jail until a preliminary hearing.”
I flexed my fists. I was really angry now, but I forced myself to remain calm.
“David, you’re making the biggest mistake of your career. While I’m wasting time in here, Ralph’s killer is roaming the streets, and he might come back for Kim.” I leaned forward to look him directly in the eyes. “If Kim is murdered while I’m in here, her blood will be on your hands.”
Underneath that arrogant exterior, I could see a scared little boy, and David began to sweat.
“You’re the only threat to my victim,” he said as he quickly gathered up his things, “and while you’re in here, she can sleep in peace.”
“David, you’d better recall that warrant.” I was having a hard time keeping the anger from my voice. “You’re interfering in a murder investigation. If this case goes unsolved or someone else gets hurt, I’m coming after you.”
“Oh, great, I’ll add threatening a state police detective to your charges.” He stood and looked down at me. “I don’t care what you say—I know I’ve got the right man. When this is all said and done, you’ll wish to God you had confessed and taken a plea deal.”
With that, he turned and pressed a call button on the wall. A mechanical buzzer sounded and the door came free. David opened it and paused.
“Detective Clint Wolf,” he called loudly over his shoulder, “you’re a disgrace to the law enforcement profession. I hope you rot in prison!”
I scowled as he disappeared behind the shutting door, wondering what that had been about. The fact that he had the thought wasn’t a surprise, but that he would stop suddenly and say it was odd.
A few seconds later CO Rankin showed up.
“Any trouble out of Detective Monier?” Rankin asked.
I shook my head, lost in thought. I knew David hadn’t listened to a word I’d said, so he wasn’t about to run down any of the leads I’d given him. If I was to be exonerated, I would have to rely on Susan and Amy to get it done.
“Detective Wolf,” Rankin said quietly. “Do you need the phone?”
“Yes, I do.” I said quickly. “And thank you.”
“I’ll give you some privacy.”
When CO Rankin opened the door to leave me alone, I realized what David had done. Across the corridor from me was another interview room with the door cracked open. A guard was standing in the corridor outside the open door talking to a man in a suit. Inside the room and seated on the metal chair was a tough-looking man with a white goatee—and he was glaring directly at me.
CHAPTER 33
Mechant Loup Police Department
Amy watched as Susan absently moved the handset from her ear and pushed it in her direction. Susan’s usually tanned face was pale. She appeared to be in shock.
“Clint?” Amy said when she put the handset to her ear. “What’s going on? How much is your bond?”
“There is no bond,” Clint said. “They’re holding me until the preliminary hearing. They say I’m a danger to Kim Plant.”
“No!” Amy felt her heart sink to her boots. “This…this can’t be happening. What’s going on with you? Where are you?”
“They brought me to the Empyrean Parish Detention Center, because I’m too well known in Chateau and Magnolia.” Clint paused to take a breath. “The only way I’m getting out is if you solve Ralph’s murder and Kim’s attack.”
“Oh, great, no pressure there.” Amy licked her dry lips and sank deeper into her chair. “What should I do? Tell me how to help you.”
Clint began rattling off a list of tasks while Amy hurriedly jotted them down. It was after six in the evening and the lab was closed, so she wouldn’t be able to make a trip there until the next day.
“And don’t go to Judge Lamb,” Clint said. “He might refuse to sign the warrant for Ralph’s phone.”
“Got it.” Amy studied the list. There were some things she couldn’t do this evening, but she could get a lot of it done. After talking with Clint for a few more minutes, she asked how he was doing. He sounded great, but he was in an impossible situation.
“I’m fine,” Clint said. “They’re putting me up in a private cell with a TV and an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
Despite their troubles, Amy laughed, but it was short lived. She heard metal clanking against metal and then a voice asked Clint if he was ready to go. She caught her breath.
“Be safe, Clint,” she said. “Let me know if you need us to break you out.”
He laughed and then asked to speak with Susan before he had to go. Amy stepped out of the office to give Susan some privacy. While Susan and Clint spoke for a few more seconds, Amy called Chet Robichaux.
“Mr. Robichaux,” Amy said when the farmer answered. “I’m Amy Cooke. I’m a detective with Mechant Loup and I work with Clint Wolf.”
“Oh, yeah, I know you. What can I help you with?”
“I need to take a look at the scene of the fire from last night,” she explained. “Clint wants me to see if I can recover some DNA samples from the edges of the metal drum.”
“Yeah, come on over,” he said. “I’m on the porch drinking a beer. I’d offer you one, but Clint always says cops can’t drink on the job.”
“That’s right.” Amy ended the call and watched as Susan dropped the phone to the cradle, stood to her feet, and stabbed both fists into her desk. She only remained that way for a second, though. A thought must’ve occurred to her, because she quickly hit the speakerphone button and punched in a number. Amy immediately recognized the voice that answered.
“Isabel, did you know anything about this?” Susan asked. “They’re holding Clint in the Empyrean Parish Detention Center on false charges.”
There was a long sigh from the first assistant district attorney. “I know, and I’m so sorry,” she finally said. “This state police detective—his name is David Monier—”
“I know the little prick,” Susan interrupted. “He’s the one who shot Achilles when they raided Clint’s house years ago.”
“No way!” There was genuine anger in Isabel’s voice. “I didn’t know that.”
“He’s an idiot,” Susan continued. “Clint had nothing to do with the attack, and everyone knows it. It’s not his style. If you told me he knocked David on his ass, I might believe that, but he’d never hit a woman.”
“I know, and I had a heated argument with Bill about it, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Is he still mad about my dad?” Susan asked, worry in her eyes. “Does he see this as a last chance to get back at us?”
Isabel was quiet for a long moment as she considered Susan’s question. “I don’t think so. I think he really believes Clint robbed and beat that woman. I’m not going to lie, there is definitely enough circumstantial evidence to rise to the level of probable cause, but even if Clint was a criminal I would’ve advised David to interview him before swearing out a warrant. There was no reason not to give Clint the opportunity to explain himself. I think David saw this as a feather in his cap and he jumped the gun with no regard to the damage that could be done. Not only does arresting the wrong person injure the innocent, but it also does irreparable damage to the case.”
Susan nodded her agreement. “What can we do? The judge hasn’t set a bond and he wants Clint in jail until a preliminary hearing. He claims it’s for the victim’s safety.”
“Does Clint really have scratches on his wrist?�
�� she asked.
“Yeah,” Susan said. “He got them when he was investigating a drum fire here in town last night.”
“That’s perfect!” Isabel was excited now. “Get me proof of the reason for his scratches as soon as possible!”
“I’m already on it,” Amy interjected. “I just called the farmer. I’m heading there in a second to try and recover Clint’s DNA from the metal drum.”
“David said Clint was parked in front of Kim’s house at the time of the attack,” Isabel said. “He has a witness—a Beverly Thibodaux—who was jogging along the road and claims she saw Clint’s Tahoe sitting on the shoulder of the road. Was Clint really there?”
“Yeah, he was waiting for Mallory to give him the green light on the search warrant,” Susan explained. “When Mallory called to say the judge wouldn’t sign the warrant, Clint visited a few gas stations trying to find surveillance footage that showed one of his potential suspects talking to a buddy. Clint got the scratches after he left the last gas station.”
Isabel hummed to herself as she pondered the information.
“I can pull tape from those same gas stations,” Amy offered, “and if I can find surveillance footage of Clint with no scratches on his wrist, that would destroy David’s theory.”
Isabel shouted her excitement into the phone. “If you get me that, I’m sure I can convince Bill to have him released.”
“And if not?” Susan asked hesitantly.
“Then I’ll drop the charges myself once Bill officially retires.”
“When will that be?”
“At the beginning of January.”
Susan groaned and sank to her chair.
CHAPTER 34
Empyrean Parish Detention Center
Before leading me out into the corridor, CO Rankin whispered for me to keep my identity a secret.
“We’re just getting used to this new jail, and the warden hasn’t ironed out all of the kinks so far,” he explained. “Unless there’s a problem, all prisoners stay out in the dorm area. There’re no bars separating the prisoners from the guards or the prisoners from each other. If they find out you’re a cop, there could be trouble. I’ve already voiced my concerns to my lieutenant, but he said he contacted the warden and he wants you in the dorm. The SHU’s full and he said he’s not moving a murderer into the dorm just because there’s a slim chance someone might recognize you.”
He explained that the SHU was their special housing unit. He said it consisted of concrete, solitary cells with no windows, and it was where they quarantined the most dangerous of the criminals they took in.
“I’m not worried,” I said when he was done talking. “I’ll take it as it comes.”
He sized me up for a long moment, and then nodded his approval. That move, in and of itself, spoke volumes. The kid definitely seemed mature beyond his years. Despite his status along the law enforcement ladder, he carried himself with an ease that bespoke a high level of confidence. It was uncommon to see a rookie as relaxed as he, and the way he’d casually dealt with David told me he feared no one, regardless of their rank. This could mean only one thing—although he knew almost everyone around him outranked him, he was confident he could kick their asses. This kid was definitely a fighter. Although he wasn’t a bit cocky—most people would never guess this unassuming youngster in the oversized uniform was a badass—I could read the signs all over him.
“I’ll be on duty all night, but I’m heading to work the SHU,” Rankin continued. “If you need me, just ask Zack to radio me. He’ll be at the watch desk tonight.”
I glanced at his nametag. “What’s the S stand for?”
“Shade,” he said. “I’m Shade Rankin.”
“Rankin’s a weird name,” I commented. “You’re definitely not from South Louisiana.”
“No, sir. My dad’s from Hatchet County, Tennessee. He moved our family here when I was a baby. My mom left him when I was twelve and she went back home to Tennessee. She wanted us kids to go back home with her, but I couldn’t leave my dad. My sister and brother left, but I stayed behind.” Shade scowled. “It was rough saying goodbye to my siblings, but my dad has always had my back, so there was no way I was leaving him.”
He was silent for a moment before stepping aside and waving me out into the corridor. The door to the other interview room was closed now, but the prisoner from earlier was standing inside looking out of the small square window. He was studying me hard as Shade escorted me down the corridor, so I made sure to burn his face into my memory. If we were to meet up in the dorm, I would have to remember him. There was a good chance he knew I was a cop, and I was sure he couldn’t wait to get back and tell everyone.
When we reached the end of the corridor, Shade escorted me through a secure door and down another corridor. We passed through several large metal doors, and with the slamming of each one, I felt my freedom fading farther and farther away. Finally, we reached a large dormitory that housed what looked to be over a hundred prisoners.
“Good luck out there,” Shade said in a low voice. “If you feel like anyone is suspicious of you being a cop, come up to the guard’s desk and say you’re about to vomit. They’ll get you to the nurse’s station and we can hammer out a plan from there.”
I nodded and took a set of linens from another guard that had walked up. I then headed into the belly of the beast, searching for an empty bunk as I strolled casually past the curious eyes of a group of men milling around the phone bank. Except for working a one-year stretch in construction and another as a swamp tour guide, I’d been a cop my entire adult life. I didn’t know if my mannerisms betrayed that fact, but I was certainly getting a bit of undesired attention from a few of the locals.
After a quick search, I found an empty bunk in one corner near the wall. It was as good a strategic position as any in the dorm. If anyone recognized me as a cop and wanted to challenge me, I could at least stick my back in the corner and fight whatever was in front of me. Although it was an advantageous position, I was not disillusioned. If a few other prisoners decided to jump in, I might be able to tangle them up for a while, but they would eventually get to me. If something happened, my hope was that I could fight them off long enough for the guards to intervene before I would sustain too much damage.
A large man who had a four leaf clover tattooed on his face was in the bunk next to the one I’d chosen. As I was about to spread my blanket across the plastic mattress, he spoke up.
“That’s my bunk,” Four Leaf said. “You gonna have to find another one.”
I glanced at the bunk upon which he was sitting. It had a pillow and blanket on the mattress, and there were a few personal items beneath it. The bunk I had picked was empty and clean.
I ignored Four Leaf and continued setting out my blanket. I wasn’t in the mood for an argument, but I also didn’t have time for games. I needed to get settled in for the night so I could start figuring a way out of this plight.
Seeing that he was being ignored, Four Leaf began to stand and utter a protest. I turned abruptly and hooked a thumb into the soft void that was located between his Adam’s apple and the top of his sternum. I gave my thumb a push and he reflexively reached for his throat as he sank back to his bunk.
“How bad do you want this bunk?” I asked coolly. “I want it bad enough to rip a hole in your throat and tear your sternum from your chest. Do you want it bad enough to try and stop me?”
CHAPTER 35
Thugs thrived on weakness, and that was especially true in jail. I knew that jail wasn’t the place to turn the other cheek, and I was ready to adjust my behavior to fit my environment. Had I moved on and found another bunk, as I might have done in the free world, the word of my passivity would’ve circulated rapidly around the jail. No one would’ve had any respect for me, and I would’ve been forced to fight for everything. This one action—although risking additional criminal charges—would give me some breathing room until I got out of this place. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be long.
Four Leaf gagged as my thumb dug deeper into his throat. His eyes watered. He fell back against the wall when I released him. He rubbed the front of his neck and a sour expression fell across his face. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see that a few prisoners who were nearby had observed the interaction, and a couple of them could be heard mumbling their approval.
“Damn, man, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” Four Leaf turned his head from side to side and swallowed to check for permanent damage. “I was only kidding with you. You didn’t have to rip my throat out.”
I knew better than to think he was kidding, but he needed to save face. I didn’t respond. I simply began unfolding my sheet to throw it across the thin plastic mattress.
“It’s okay, I forgive you,” he said, nodding as though I’d apologized. “I was pretty tense my first day here, too. I thought everyone wanted to rape me or stick a pointed toothbrush in my ribs, but after a few nights, I realized it wasn’t that bad in here.”
I finished making my bed and stretched out on it. I began wondering how far Amy had gotten in collecting the evidence that would exonerate me. But even if she had been successful in collecting my DNA on the metal drum, it would be days before the lab could match it to the reference sample that David had recovered. And even if it was proven that my scratches came from the drum, would Bill Hedd reverse course and drop the charges?
“My name’s Lane Brady,” the man said, not at all discouraged that I was ignoring him. “What’s yours?”
I didn’t answer.
“Since we’re gonna be neighbors, we might as well get to know each other,” he continued. “If you won’t tell me your name, at least tell me what you’re in here for.”
I continued to ignore him. I wanted my case file. I wanted access to a computer and my law enforcement databases. I needed to conduct some interviews. The attack on Kim Plant might offer some clues regarding the murder of her husband, so I would need access to David Monier’s case file to compare notes. But how on earth would I make that happen? Even if I extricated myself from this predicament, there was no way David would be in the mood to share information.
