by Sutter, C M
“Is black okay? I didn’t see any creamer there.”
“Black is fine. Thanks.”
Five minutes later, the door behind the counter opened, and a man who appeared to be around thirty walked out. He was dressed in a deputy’s typical tan uniform and crossed the lobby with his hand outstretched.
“Agents DeLeon and Monroe, I presume? I’m Deputy Polsen. Nice to meet you.”
Renz introduced both of us, then we walked out with Polsen.
“Do you want to follow me or ride together?”
“How far away is the site?” I asked.
He scratched his forehead. “I’d say it’s about ten miles south of town.”
Renz spoke up. “We’ll go ahead and follow you, then.” He pointed at our rental. “That black Explorer is our vehicle.”
“Sure thing. Just go ahead and pull up behind me.”
We were on our way a few minutes later with Polsen in the lead.
“Sticky as hell this time of year.” Renz ran his handkerchief across his forehead.
“Then it’s lucky for you that I’m your partner.”
The left side of his mouth curled up and formed a cockeyed grin. “Really, and why’s that?”
I pulled a pack of travel wipes from my purse and handed one to him. “Because I may have forgotten the bug spray, but at least I brought these, and they’re refreshing.”
He thanked me and dabbed his face with the wipe as I adjusted the A/C vents to point toward him.
“Ah, that feels great. Thanks, Jade.”
I nodded and watched as the landscape passed my window. The city we’d left disappeared quickly as I checked my side mirror. The road narrowed, and flora had taken over everything right up to the paved road.
“Wow, it turns rural really fast.” Behind the houses next to the road, I looked for signs of a clearing in the tree cover, but it was nearly impossible. I couldn’t even imagine walking through that thick tangle of who knew what. “It’s really dense back there.”
Renz glanced out his window and nodded. “Yep, it sure is. I bet there are all kinds of critters in those woods that no sane person would want to deal with. The ground is likely soggy, there are probably snakes hanging from trees, wild boars roaming around, and then close to the water would be the enormous gators.” He grinned when I shuddered. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! What? Not a fan of nature, Agent Monroe?”
“I am as long as I’m on a paved bike or running trail.”
The drive took under twenty minutes since it was a straight shot out of town to reach the site. Deputy Polsen’s brake lights flashed, then he slowed down at the Terrebonne Parish deputy’s car parked at the entryway to the gravel path. We waited behind the deputy as the two men had a brief conversation through open car windows.
“I wonder what’s going on?”
Renz shrugged.
A second later, Polsen climbed out of his car and walked to our vehicle.
“I guess we’re about to find out.” Renz lowered his window and stuck out his head. “What’s up?”
“There isn’t room back there for this many vehicles. Go ahead and park on the shoulder. I’ll do the same, and Stillman said he’d drive us back there.”
“Sounds good.”
Renz pulled ahead and parked on the shoulder while I slipped on my rubber boots and pocketed my cell phone and wipes. We climbed out at the same time, then he clicked the fob and locked the Explorer’s doors. Polsen parked at our rear bumper, and together, we climbed into Stillman’s squad car. He drove down the overgrown path to its end, where the area was already crowded with vehicles. Polsen, Renz, and I exited the deputy’s car and thanked him, then he backed down the path.
Polsen tipped his head toward the people standing alongside the forensic van. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the sheriff and our forensic team.” Renz and I followed.
“SSA Lorenzo DeLeon and SSA Jade Monroe, this is the Terrebonne Parish sheriff, Pat Conway.”
We walked up to a man who looked to be in his fifties with buzz-cut gray hair and a protruding belly. We reached out and received a hearty handshake.
Even though I had been with the FBI for a number of years, I was new to our team and thought it more respectful for Renz to lead the questioning. I was curious to see how he led an investigation, anyway.
Renz began by asking about the men who sat on the truck’s tailgate.
“They’re the guys who discovered the remains. They were out here boar hunting with their Catahoulas, and the dogs sniffed out those bones immediately. The man on the right, who owns the dogs, is Billy Bennett, and he said they’d only been out here for a few minutes before they called it in.”
Renz looked around. “So what happened to the dogs?”
“They were transferred to another truck and taken out. They were trampling the scene, and we didn’t want them to”—the sheriff wrinkled his face—“eat the evidence.”
I cringed at the thought. “Smart thinking.”
“Anyway, the dogs were making such a ruckus, we couldn’t think straight. The guys stayed behind since I was sure you’d probably want to question them.”
Renz glanced their way. “And we’ll get to that shortly. So we were called in because other sites similar to this one have been found scattered throughout the parish?”
“That’s correct, but we originally thought they were from ‘at-home’ burials. This one”—he shook his head—“is only a day or two old, and there’s more than one set of bones.”
I looked around. “Not to mention there wouldn’t be a reason to bury remains way back here off the beaten path.”
“That’s right, Agent Monroe, but the fact is they weren’t buried, not even partially. It’s as if this is a dump site.”
Renz pointed toward the footpath. “Is the scene back there?”
Sheriff Conway tipped his head in that direction. “It is.”
“Then let’s go take a look.”
Chapter 9
My head was on a swivel as we plowed along spongy ground through the brush and vines covering the narrow trail.
“Do gators come in this far?” I asked, thankful that we were all armed.
Polsen spoke up. “They don’t have a reason to, and with their low, heavy bodies, it would be tough to maneuver this thicket.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Then what uses this path?”
“Wild hogs, mostly, and of course, the men and dogs that hunt them. Don’t get too comfortable, though. There are plenty of snakes out here too.”
My rubber boots squeaked with every step, and my eyes darted left and right. “How much farther?”
“Another minute or two. We’re close.”
When I saw yellow tape wrapped around tree trunks to outline the area, it was obvious that we’d arrived at the spot. I immediately understood what the sheriff had meant when he said the dogs could have quickly destroyed the scene. The spot stank, hundreds of flies and bugs covered the rotting tissue that hung from the bones, and in the heat and humidity, the scent would easily attract opportunistic animals.
Conway pointed. “Luckily, we’re a good distance from the water. Otherwise, the gators would have literally eaten every bit of evidence.” He pointed to his far right. “And those would have been gone forever.”
I wrinkled my nose at the two skulls lying in the damp soil, walked around the tape, and knelt to get a closer look. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a few pictures.
“Forensics took plenty of photographs already that will be available to you.”
I looked over my shoulder. “Thanks, but I like to have some of my own for quick reference.” I glanced at one of the forensic techs, who was easily identified by the logo on his shirt. “Can you tell by the skulls if these body parts belong to women or men?”
“Not so much by the skulls, but the length of the femurs would tell us how tall the victim was so likely their gender too.”
“How about dental records?”
&nb
sp; “We can certainly work with those if anything unusual stands out.”
Renz looked at me. “As well as the missing persons database.” He addressed the sheriff next. “Has anyone been reported missing, say, in the last few weeks?”
“Several people have, and one was found just last week in New Orleans. Local police had picked up a sixteen-year-old who was soliciting herself on a street corner. Turns out, she was one of the missing people and had run away. She’s back home and under the close watch of her mama. She’s one of the lucky ones, even though she may not think of it that way.”
I pushed off my knee and stood. “Lucky in what way?”
The sheriff blew out a hard breath. “Many of the teen runaways get snatched up in the illegal world of human trafficking. The runaways are approached by men who spin an attractive lie and tell them everything they want to hear—big-city life, great jobs, and a support network—just to be handed off to a trafficker for money or drugs, and the girls are never seen again. Unfortunately, because many areas of the South are poor, those girls want to leave the bayou and go to the big city. They believe everything they’re told.” He gestured with his hands. “Poof. Then they’re gone and never seen again.”
Renz frowned. “So if that’s the case, then why would those bones be from runaways? Dead girls don’t bring in money.”
Conway shrugged. “Not saying they are, but there could be a connection.”
I took my turn. “How far away were the locations of the other bones? Were they found in the same parish, and what happened to them?”
“They were, Agent Monroe. Terrebonne Parish is one of the largest parishes in Louisiana and covers a lot of land. Our medical examiner has the remains on cold storage so they won’t deteriorate any further.”
Renz spoke up. “We’ll have to take a look at those, too, when we get back to Houma.”
I circled the site and snapped off a dozen more pictures of a heap of bones that still had tissue on them. It was a macabre sight. I nodded to Renz that I’d seen enough. I addressed the forensic team before heading toward the vehicles. “One more thing. Can you tell which bones go with which?”
Toby Cordon from Forensics answered. “We can, ma’am, by running the DNA.”
“Okay, good, and thank you. How soon will these bones be in your lab?”
“We’ll be removing them right away. We’ve already collected what we need from the scene, so check back with us in a few hours. We should have everything in the lab by then.”
We returned to where the vehicles were parked and approached the men who still sat on the truck’s tailgate.
Renz took the lead. “Sorry to detain you fellas for so long. I’m sure you’ve been out here for a few hours.”
“Yep. Not what we expected to be doing today.”
“I bet. Let’s get started, then, so you guys can be on your way. I’ll take your names and addresses, and then together, you can walk us through the chain of events.”
They agreed and gave us their names as Mark LaFleur and Billy Bennett before sharing their addresses. I would take on the responsibility of writing down their account of the day. With my notepad and pen in hand, I nodded a go-ahead.
Mark began with the time they’d arrived—eight fifteen that morning. Their intention was to spend a good portion of the day hunting like they usually did when they went out. They began their normal routine, which was to release the dogs to hunt and follow them with their GPS trackers. If a feral pig was located, the dogs would surround it, bark up a storm, and wait until the owner arrived to shoot it—a relatively foolproof act.
“So you had released the dogs, and within minutes, they started howling?”
“They did,” Billy said, “but they weren’t chasing anything, which was unusual. The GPS showed that their movement had stopped, so it didn’t take us long to catch up with them.”
I was afraid to ask the next question, but I had to. “Did you see them eat anything?”
Billy continued. “I didn’t actually see that, but they were sure sniffing and digging. Once we realized what they were excited about, we pulled out the dogs, caged them, and called 911. Guess those remains could be compromised somewhat by the dogs.”
“How many dogs did you have?” Renz asked.
“We brought out five this morning,” Billy said. “My wife came and picked them up since they were too excited and loud.”
“Understood, and we sure do appreciate your quick thinking to preserve that evidence.”
Mark rubbed the sweat from his forehead. “I’ve never seen anything like that before, and I’m actually surprised the pigs didn’t smell it.”
My curiosity was piqued. “Why would that matter?”
“Wild pigs can devour human body parts in a matter of minutes.”
I pulled back. “But I thought that was—”
Mark chuckled. “An urban legend?”
“Well, yeah.”
“No, ma’am. They’re dangerous animals, especially when injured, and fast as hell. If we shoot at them, we’d better take good aim and shoot them dead. They’d be hot on our trail and make short work of us otherwise. They have razor-sharp teeth and tusks.”
“And here I thought pigs ate hay and grain. Damn. No, thanks.”
Billy chuckled before adding a final comment. “There’s two things I know for sure, though.”
Renz raised a curious brow. “Yeah, what’s that?”
“The first is those remains couldn’t have been out there more than a day. The pigs would have found them and devoured them by now. I’m sure the only reason they didn’t is because our dogs and all the commotion this morning caused them to keep their distance.”
“And the other thing?”
Billy scratched his cheek. “The person you’re looking for is definitely a hunter. He can cut up and remove the meat from the bones of a human as well as from a pig.”
I groaned under my breath. “For what purpose?”
Billy shook his head. “God only knows.”
I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out then turned to Renz. “Have enough info for now?”
“Yep.” He handed cards to both guys. “We sure appreciate you hanging out here and waiting for us to arrive. If anything else comes to mind, please don’t hesitate to call. We’ll probably be in town all week.”
They pocketed the cards and jumped off the tailgate.
I looked at the line of vehicles blocking the path. “How are you going to get out of here?”
Billy smiled and opened the driver’s-side door. “In four-wheel drive.”
I turned to Sheriff Conway after the guys left. “Is there a room at the sheriff’s office that we can work from?”
“You bet. Hop on in. I’ll give you a ride back to your vehicle.”
Minutes later, we left with the sheriff and his deputies. The forensic team stayed behind to collect all the bones and bag them then do a final sweep of the area for anything that could be of evidentiary value. They would return to their lab and start identifying which bones went together by using DNA testing. Luckily for us, the lab was only three miles from the sheriff’s office.
Once we arrived, Sheriff Conway directed us to a small interview room to use as our office during our stay in Houma. We would compile the information gathered by the sheriff’s office, the forensic lab, and ourselves and forward it to our FBI specialists.
After asking for a good restaurant recommendation, Renz and I temporarily parted ways with the sheriff. It was pushing five o’clock, and we were starving. He suggested Nina’s if we wanted authentic creole cuisine, and it happened to be only two blocks from the sheriff’s office and a straight shot down Lafayette Street to our hotel. We thanked him and left. We planned to have an early supper then pay the forensic lab a visit after that. We also needed to take a look at the bones that were found in the last few weeks and see how they compared to the ones discovered earlier that day, but first, dinner was on the menu.
Chapter 10
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nbsp; Robby was fuming. His dump site had been discovered, but because the location was so remote and off the beaten path, he knew the people who’d found it had to be hunters.
I’ll show them a thing or two about hunting. The last thing I need is people up in my business when I’m just trying to get by. They’ll pay in the end. They want wild boars, I’ll find a way to give them wild boars.
Robby stared at the trough. The meat was thoroughly cooked, but because that gator had torn it up, it would now be considered dog and cat food. He wasn’t about to eat anything that could be filled with swamp and gator bacteria.
As he sat in the shack and pondered what he’d come across earlier, he knew he would have to change the way he disposed of the waste. He could no longer take the chance of scattering bones throughout the parish. Law enforcement was involved, and there was a good chance they would start patrolling the paths that led to the swamps. Going forward, he planned to feed the remains to either the gators or the boars. He was sure his chances against a wild pig were far better than with a gator, and if he dumped the remains on his own property but far enough away from his living quarters, he’d be safe. He looked into the simmering water and cursed. That meat would have tasted mighty fine, but at least he had the fifty dollars from her wallet and another seventy-five he’d withdrawn from the bank.
His stomach growled, and a thought popped into his head. Monday was ladies’ night at Nina’s, and the drinks were two for one. Robby tipped his wrist and checked the time—5:03.
Happy hour is between four and six. Maybe I should head out and see what’s on the menu.
The drive to Nina’s from the outskirts of Dulac, where he lived, would take a half hour. He needed to hurry. After happy hour, his choices of women to become acquainted with and follow throughout the night would diminish quickly.
Instead of pulling the cooked meat out of the trough and cutting it up for the animals, Robby left it where it was, washed up, and hit the road in his truck. He’d cleaned his flipper knife, which was deep in his pocket and ready to be used again.
Robby arrived at the restaurant shortly after five thirty. He entered and took a seat at the counter, where two women sat with several cocktails lined up in front of them. One or both of the women would be good candidates for later. He ordered a beer and took in the room. The door opened just as he was about to strike up a conversation with the ladies. The tan uniform gave the man away—it was the deputy who’d stood outside his car when Robby drove past the path earlier.
