FBI Agent Jade Monroe: Live or Die 01-Blood in the Bayou

by Sutter, C M

  “Law enforcement doesn’t think an animal can clean off a body that well in a day or so. There would be much more muscle and skin left behind. Also, animals generally like organ meat if given a choice, but alligators? I guess it depends on how close the remains were to where the gators live. I’d assume an alligator would take full advantage of every piece of the body.”

  I shook my head. “Then there wouldn’t be any remains left.”

  “That’s exactly right, Jade. Another thing that baffles law enforcement is that the bones were found a good five miles from the nearest home.”

  “No DNA matches of the earlier remains to any missing people in the system?”

  Lorenzo shrugged. “I haven’t heard all of the details yet, but we’ll be briefed once we meet up with the sheriff and his team.”

  “Okay. So what city are we flying into?”

  “New Orleans, and then driving southwest an hour. Tory will text us with the rental car info at the airport, the names of the people we’re supposed to meet up with once we get to Houma, and the hotel details there too. I’ll forward you what we know so far. That way, you’ll have a record of your own.”

  I nodded then heard my phone buzz. “Guess that’s the email coming through.”

  A half hour later, we lifted off in the FBI’s jet. Powering down the runway, taking to the sky, and watching everything beneath us disappear was my favorite part of flying, and having our own jet was definitely better than sitting in a coach seat on a commercial airliner while being elbowed by strangers. In two and a half hours, we would be on the ground again, and while in the air, I’d have a snack and coffee and look over the report. There was a chance I’d even catch an hour of shut-eye. Since I didn’t know Lorenzo well, I had no idea what his habits or personality traits were like, but I was sure to learn more about him during this first trip and case we were working together.

  Reading what Lorenzo had sent me took about as long as the explanation he’d given me as he drove to the airport. The only additional things stated in the report were the names of the sheriff and several deputies. I was sure the name tags on their shirts would help us if there was any confusion.

  When I looked up from my phone, I smiled. Lorenzo had already dozed off. I wasn’t surprised since every male partner I’ve had over the years could zonk out in minutes. I put away my phone and stared out the window. A patchwork of colorful farmland lay beneath us, and I felt like I could reach out and touch the beautiful cloud formations that floated by. I would never get tired of being among the clouds and enjoying the earth’s beauty from a perspective above it. I closed my eyes and drifted off.

  “Jade?”

  I tried to open my eyes, but they weren’t cooperating. I tried again and squinted at the face only inches from me. When my focus cleared, I saw it was Lorenzo, and I quickly sat up. “I hope to God I wasn’t drooling.”

  He laughed. “The front of your blouse is soaked.”

  I looked down in horror and realized he was joking. I grinned and knew we would get along just fine. “You got me on that one.”

  He sat down and fastened his seat belt. “You were snoring, though.”

  I swatted the air. “There’s a chance I’d believe that since I’ve been told that before.” I glanced out the window, and we were descending. “Are we here already?”

  “Yep. The pilot said we’d be on the ground in fifteen minutes. Thought you might want to freshen up a little before we deplane.”

  “I do, and thanks.” I unfastened my belt, pushed off the arm of the seat, and walked to the lavatory. Inside, I splashed water on my face, tore open a prepackaged toothbrush and a miniature tube of toothpaste, and brushed my teeth. I fluffed my hair and considered my appearance good enough. I would give myself a thorough once-over in our hangar’s ladies’ room. Back in my seat, I looked out the window at the runway in the distance. We would be touching down in seconds. As I snapped my seat belt, I heard the wheels being lowered. With a slight jostle, the jet was on the runway and screeched to a stop. We taxied to the private hangars and stopped on the tarmac where we’d wait for the door to open and stairs to be lowered. Lorenzo and I stood, grabbed our go bags, and waited at the door.

  The copilot turned the door latch and lowered the stairs. “You’re good to go, Agents.”

  With a nod, I thanked him, and we deplaned. Several vehicles were parked to the left of the hangar, and I assumed one was our rental. We would go inside, confirm it, and use the restrooms before leaving.

  “I got an update from Tory while you were sleeping.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  He chuckled. “We aren’t in New Orleans.”

  I frowned. “Then where the hell are we?”

  “Turns out that Houma does have its own regional airport. We were cleared to continue on and fly right into Houma. I guess the city of Houma is about six miles away.”

  “Awesome. That’s a heck of a lot closer than doing the hour drive from New Orleans.”

  After confirming that the Explorer outside was our rental, we grabbed coffees to go, used the facilities, and left.

  “So should we check in at the hotel first and then go to the sheriff’s office?”

  “Sounds like a good idea. We don’t know how far it is from town to the remains, so I guess a deputy will lead us there once we check in with them. The sheriff, several deputies, and a forensic unit are at the site right now and will stay there until we arrive. They want to preserve as much of the scene as they can, but their location sounds like the kind of place that wouldn’t come up on Navigation. Too far out in the boondocks.”

  “Hence the escort. So how were the remains discovered?”

  Lorenzo scratched his cheek. “That information hasn’t come down the pike yet, at least not to us.”

  I pondered something as we loaded our gear into the Explorer. “Would you mind if I called you something else?”

  Lorenzo’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean besides my name?”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Why be so formal? We are partners, you know.”

  “Hmm… so what do you have in mind?”

  I shrugged. “Something shorter, maybe? How about Renz?”

  He pulled back. “You’d be removing the front and back end of my name?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I smiled. “I like it. Sounds kind of edgy—Renz DeLeon.”

  He cocked his head. “I kind of like it too. Okay, sure. You can call me Renz.”

  I was happy. We were making progress.

  “Just one question.”

  “Sure, go for it.”

  “What can I call you?”

  “Jade.”

  We both laughed, and Renz followed the sign for downtown Houma.

  Chapter 7

  Robby had to take a trip into Houma that afternoon. It was Monday, and his meager monthly hunting land lease payment from the state—one hundred eighty dollars—would have been direct deposited into the bank by then. He needed to pull out some money. Having the pickup full of gas guaranteed that when he got the itch, he could go hunting and pocket even more cash. It made no difference to him whether he killed men or women, even though he preferred women since they were easier to subdue. It was how they filled his needs that mattered.

  He counted his remaining bullets to make sure he had enough to last until he got paid next month. He was good.

  After the broken screen door slammed at his back, Robby walked to the firepit and checked the water temperature in the trough. It had begun a slow simmer and would soon be boiling. He jammed another log in the fire then headed for the tree to cut down Carla.

  “Son of a bitch!” Robby yelled and threw a rock at the gator that had already devoured Carla from the hips down. The gator spun and hissed. Robby ran to the house and grabbed his rifle from against the cooler where he’d last left it. He took aim and fired off two rounds as he closed in on the enormous reptile. Mud shot up—he’d missed. The gator slunk into the murky water and disappeared. “Damn you!” Robby
inspected what was left of the woman and decided not to take the chance of keeping any of her carcass since the alligator’s claw marks covered her body. “That’s a crying shame, and now I have to throw away what’s left of her. I’m not taking any chances with tainted meat. You never know what kind of germs and bacteria are under the claws of those hideous critters.”

  After taking a careful look around to make sure no other opportunists were headed his way, Robby cut down what remained of the woman, dragged her by the wrists to the trough, and submerged her in the boiling water. Pete, the hound, was already drooling.

  Once he’d arrived home late last night, Robby had emptied Carla’s purse and tossed it and her phone into the firepit. As he stood at the fire and pocketed her cash, all that remained in her wallet was her license and credit cards. Robby wouldn’t let himself be tempted by those cards—he wasn’t about to invite trouble with a paper trail. He tossed the wallet into the fire and headed to the truck. The plan was to make a quick stop on his way to town and peek at the remains he’d gotten rid of. He’d been excited to get to town last night and find somebody to take home with him. That excitement might have caused him to commit a careless act in dumping that much waste in one location. If all of it was ever found, it would be obvious—unless the animals had carried everything away—that there would likely be several skulls, rib cages, and other duplicate bones in the same area. He hoped that the animals that called the bayou home had eaten every morsel of evidence that he’d left behind last night.

  The drive to Houma would take a little longer because of the detour west to reach the dump site. Robby intended to be in and out in less than fifteen minutes. What was once a gravel driveway had become overgrown, reduced to a path and nearly hidden in the tree cover. It would take him a half mile in before it dead-ended. The bayou took over at that point, and a walk through the thicket would take another five minutes before he reached the site.

  After a number of S-shaped turns on Falgout Canal Road, Robby made a sharp right onto Bayou Dularge Road. The path he would turn onto was ten minutes farther north and on the right. Sprinkled along the route were a handful of dwellings, but most had seen better days, and the ones still standing looked uninhabitable. Some had been abandoned years earlier, and what remained were only broken frames and shells of what used to be homes. Robby passed them without a second look—he’d seen them all before. He slowed about a half mile out. The path was easy to miss, and the landscape everywhere looked the same.

  Except for that. What the hell is going on?

  His back stiffened, and he leaned in closer to the windshield as he approached the flashing lights. Robby was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  That can’t be—not a cop car!

  He balled his hand and pounded the steering wheel as he cursed his luck.

  Keep your cool, asshole. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.

  As Robby checked his speed, he tapped the brakes. He didn’t intend to give the cops a single reason to pull him over. He continued on and passed the deputy’s vehicle then turned at the next right. That path continued even deeper into the marshlands, and he drove until the truck was dangerously close to soggy ground and brush. Getting stuck back there wasn’t an option. Robby killed the engine and climbed out, then he grabbed the binos from behind the seat. He quietly closed the driver’s-side door and took to the woods on foot. He needed to get close enough to see what was going on but not so close that he would be noticed. The binoculars would help him stay hidden while trying to find out if the carcasses had been discovered. Tracking south through the brush nearly a quarter mile would get him close enough to see and hear most everything. A lifelong resident of the bayous, Robby was a skilled hunter and tracker and knew how to maneuver the swamps unseen.

  Making sure to stay on the animal paths that zigzagged through the dry areas and wetlands, he closed in on the scene that had unfolded at the end of the path he’d thought was a sure bet. How those remains had been discovered was puzzling and something he needed to know. With that new information, he would have to tweak his methods of disposal going forward.

  Maybe I should rethink this process. I might have to toss every bit of waste in the bayou behind the shack, anyway. No evidence would ever lead back to me, but I’d still have to deal with those damn gators.

  Robby lifted the binos to his eyes and adjusted the focus until the scene before him was crystal clear. Two cars from the sheriff’s office were parked single file on the path, and behind them sat a black van with the words Terrebonne Parish Forensic Department written across the side in white lettering.

  Damn it. They must have found the bones, but who’s that parked farther in?

  Robby scanned slightly left, and twenty feet ahead of the first deputy’s car was a red pickup truck with several empty cages in the bed. Sitting on the tailgate were two men, and by all appearances, they looked to be local. One was talking on his phone. Robby studied the cages, which were large enough for a half dozen hunting dogs—Catahoulas, he presumed. There wasn’t any other explanation for being back there in the middle of nowhere. They were hunters who’d brought their dogs out in search of wild boars and happened upon the remains.

  Somebody must have picked up the dogs. Otherwise, they’d be barking up a storm.

  Robby thought about his chances of being discovered—they were slim to none. He wasn’t in the system and was something of a recluse. People didn’t stop by and visit, and few even knew of his stilt shack back there among the wetlands unless they came by on a boat. Robby’s guests were on a short list, and their lives were even shorter.

  He headed to his truck. There was nothing he could do to change the outcome. He planned to go into town, hit the bank, then drive home the same way to see if the sheriff and his team were still there.

  Chapter 8

  We passed the city-of-Houma population sign at twelve thirty. With nearly thirty-three thousand residents, the town was larger than I’d expected.

  Renz glanced across the seat at me. “Do you have anything in your go bag that isn’t business attire? We’ll likely be on swampy ground.”

  I grinned as a memory popped into mind. “I learned my lesson years ago. If there’s a disgusting place to trudge through, I’ve done it, and while wearing heels. Believe me, I’ve got everything jammed into that go bag, including rubber boots.”

  “How about bug spray?”

  I snapped my fingers. “Damn, that’s one thing I didn’t bring.”

  “You’ve got a long-sleeved shirt?”

  “I sure do.”

  “Okay, let’s check in and then change into more appropriate clothes for trudging through disgusting places.” He passed his phone to me. “Read Tory’s last text and see what hotel she booked for us.”

  “No problem.” I tapped the message icon and read the last text that Tory had sent. “Let’s see. She said we have two singles reserved at the HomeStay Inn. The address is 102 Library Drive.”

  “Good enough. Want to program that into the infotainment center?”

  “Sure.” I entered the hotel name on the screen, and a red teardrop came up showing the hotel’s location. “There, we’re good to go.”

  After weaving through town, we arrived at the hotel, grabbed our bags, and checked in. The elevator took us to the second floor, where we had rooms 203 and 205. We agreed to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes. My room was typical of the less-than-one-hundred-dollars-a-night variety. It was clean, well appointed, and roomy enough with a table, two chairs, a queen-sized bed, and a credenza that acted as a coffee and microwave bar, TV stand, and dresser. A closet with plenty of hangers and a nice-sized bathroom were near the exit door.

  This will be just fine, but for now, I need to change clothes and get downstairs. I’ll hang up everything later when we get back.

  I dumped the contents of my go bag onto the bed and separated the tops from the bottoms and the shoes from the rubber boots. I slipped into a pair of khakis and a long
-sleeved white T-shirt, put on a pair of flats, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. After jamming a pair of socks into the boots, I fired off a quick text to Amber saying only that we had arrived and I would update her later, then I grabbed my purse and room key and left. I didn’t see Renz in the hallway, so I assumed he was already waiting in the lobby.

  Downstairs, I walked up on a conversation between the reservations agent and Renz. He was asking for directions to the sheriff’s office, and once he had them, he thanked the agent, and we left.

  “Got it figured out?” I asked as I fastened my seat belt.

  “Yep, it looks like we have to backtrack to Main Street. Probably eight blocks or so.”

  I handed Renz a candy bar. “Like Snickers?”

  “I love Snickers.” He tore open the wrapper and took a bite, and I did the same. “Where’d you get them?”

  “From the vending machine at the end of the hallway. It’s right next to the ice machine on our floor. Oh, and just an FYI for future reference.”

  He raised his brows. “Yeah, what?”

  “Snickers is my favorite candy bar, now and forever.”

  He laughed. “Good to know.”

  We reached the sheriff’s office a few minutes later. According to the text from Tory, we were supposed to ask for a deputy named Steven Polsen. Renz parked in an open spot in their lot, and we headed to the main entrance. The stark-white concrete building stood out like a sore thumb. It was butted up to the street like an afterthought and was jammed next to houses, churches, and apartment buildings.

  “Not the loveliest place,” I joked as Renz pulled open the glass door and allowed me through.

  The two female deputies who sat behind a counter only thirty feet away looked up as we entered. We approached them, pulled out our IDs, and said we were there to meet with Deputy Polsen.

  “Sure thing, Agents, and I know he’s expecting you. I’ll go get him.”

  Renz sat in a grouping of several couches and waited. I poured two coffees from their coffee bar, took a seat across from Renz, and handed one to him.