Not One of Us

by Debbie Herbert

  At the emergency entrance, we ditched the cruiser and hurried to the ICU unit. There was no need to inquire which room was Holt’s. Four uniformed cops milled outside a door at the end of the hallway.

  “Is he conscious?” Oliver asked by way of greeting.

  “He’s in and out,” Officer Granger reported.

  “Anyone asked him yet who shot him?”

  “Yeah. He’s tried to answer, but we haven’t been able to make out what he’s saying,” Granger answered. “They’ve got him pretty drugged up.”

  “What’s his prognosis?” I asked one of the newer cops I hadn’t met before. I avoided speaking with Granger and Dempsey whenever possible. I read the new officer’s name tag: J. B. Lyles.

  “Doctors told us it’s seventy to thirty that he’ll make it,” Lyles said. “Luckily, Holt was found shortly after the shooting, and the bullet missed hitting his heart.”

  Better odds than I’d feared. The tight knot in my stomach loosened a fraction.

  Oliver pushed past the crowd and walked into the ICU unit.

  “Hey,” Dempsey said. “No one’s allowed in. Doctor’s orders.”

  Oliver didn’t slow his stride or give any indication he’d heard Dempsey’s warning. Without hesitation, I also entered the ICU room.

  Holt lay in a raised hospital cot with a myriad of tubes protruding from both arms. A thin line of blood trickled out of a thicker drainage tube inserted into his chest. His skin bore a grayish cast that was obvious even in the slightly darkened room. Buzzes and bleeps from several monitors formed a continuous background cadence.

  Holt’s eyes slitted open as we approached his bedside. “About time y’all showed up,” he grumbled.

  “Feel like a Mack truck just ran you over, buddy?” Oliver asked, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Did you see who shot you?”

  “Yeah. Listen.” Holt struggled to sit up, then winced and flopped back down on the mattress, casting an uneasy glance at the open doorway. “Shut the door,” he whispered. Despite his lowered voice, the urgency in his request was undeniable, and I was amazed at his ability to converse with us, given his condition.

  Holt tightly gripped the blanket’s edge that was pulled up past his waist. “Don’t let them in here. They came in twice already, and I pretended to be out of it. Oliver, promise to get me a cop from Mobile PD to guard my room. Make sure the locals stay away.”

  Lines of worry creased Oliver’s forehead. “Is there some reason not to trust the Enigma cops?”

  “Damn straight. They’re dirty. The drug ring’s headed by your mayor, and some of the cops are on his payroll. I don’t know how many, but Dempsey and Granger are definitely dirty.”

  “Hank Rembert?” I asked doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  Oliver and I glanced at each other, brows raised at the bombshell. Although Oliver didn’t appear as surprised as me.

  “Could it be you aren’t thinking clearly?” Oliver asked. “They must have you pumped with a ton of painkillers.”

  “How can you be so surprised?” Holt asked. “I only corroborated what Dana Adair already told you.”

  The name jolted me with recognition. Dana Adair, Jori’s estranged friend. “Is this woman your informant?” I asked Oliver and Holt, glancing back and forth between the two men.

  “Yeah. And turns out she’s a damn good one. Unless . . .” Holt wiped a hand over his face, and for the first time I noticed a slight tremor in his body. His heart-rate monitor sputtered and then resumed.

  “Unless you think she’s behind the shooting?” Oliver asked. “Maybe she had second thoughts and turned on us. Could be the mayor got wind of her passing information and threatened her to set you up.”

  “You can never be sure in this business,” Holt conceded, his lungs rattling as he drew a breath.

  “Hey, you want the doctor?” I asked.

  “No, man. I’m just . . . I’m exhausted. They gave me a shot of morphine thirty minutes ago. I’m tired but can’t sleep with those jokers hanging around my door. For all I know, they might finish the job if they think I’m on to them.”

  “I’ll stay here with you until a Mobile cop arrives,” Oliver promised. “Tell me what you remember about the shooting.”

  “I was waiting on a delivery. Two guys I didn’t recognize pulled up alongside my car. Before I could react, the guy on the passenger side unrolled his window and shot. My chest exploded. That’s the last thing I remember.”

  “What kind of car?” I asked. “Can you describe the men?”

  Holt shook his head. “It was dark. All I can tell you is that it was a black truck. The shooter wore a mask.”

  Oliver and I exchanged a look. Holt hadn’t given us much to work with.

  “We’ll question Dempsey, Granger, and the mayor,” Oliver said.

  “No!” Holt’s eyes snapped open. “You do that now, it’ll ruin everything. I have no proof yet, only Dana’s info. We need to set up a sting. They have a shipment coming by boat Sunday.”

  “Then there’s no time,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s already Thursday.”

  “I’ll be out of here by tonight or in the morning,” Holt assured us. “You move now, we can’t prove shit. We have to catch them in the act.”

  “But this Sunday?” I asked, full of skepticism. “That can’t be right. The main activities for our Blessing will be in full swing. Cops and tourists will be everywhere along the waterway.”

  “What better time?” Holt argued. “They’ll deliver right there under everyone’s noses, and no one will think to question what’s happening. It’s damn perfect.”

  Oliver nodded, his face grim. “We’ll do it. In the meantime, I’ll contact Mobile PD. Get your rest—we’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  “Thanks, man.” Holt needed no further encouragement. He closed his eyes, and within seconds his taut face relaxed and his chest slowly rose and fell in slumber.

  “I was hoping Dana was wrong and that the operation didn’t go so high up.” Oliver sank into a chair and set to work.

  Wearily, he withdrew his cell phone and started making security arrangements with the Mobile chief of police, explaining the need for utter confidentiality in the case. He kept his voice low so the men outside the door couldn’t understand what he was saying. I strolled to the window and peered into the vista. From this view on the top floor, you could make out the horizontal line of the Gulf of Mexico in the distance. No matter what human tragedies played out, the sea was a familiar constant, its rhythm a steady comfort in my life.

  Hank Rembert. Gilbert Dempsey. Leroy Granger. All dirty. I’d never liked any of them, but the thought they were involved in drug smuggling had never entered my mind. The room grew silent as Oliver wrapped up his phone call. That done, he walked over to stand next to me.

  “Mind blowing, isn’t it?” he murmured. “What kind of town do you have here anyway? Bayou Enigma’s always had a somewhat shady reputation for cops turning a blind eye on crime, but this . . .”

  “Unbelievable,” I agreed. “Guess you were right all along. The Strickland and Ensley murders might be drug related too. It seems to be a common motive here.”

  “Your other leads were worth checking out,” Oliver said. “But it’s looking like the Trahern kidnapping and threats against their family appear to be unrelated to our murder case.”

  “Yeah. Maybe that’s good news. Could just be a disgruntled relative causing trouble for Jori. They left threatening notes and then took Zach to their house for a couple hours, never intending to harm him.”

  “It’s still a serious crime, but for now we need to focus on the drug sting.”

  “You’re right, of course. I was just so sure that the Cormier case might have been linked to the other murders.”

  “It’s still possible Louis Cormier was involved in drug trafficking. Once we arrest Rembert and the others, we’ll ask them who else was involved in the ring over the years.”


  He shot me a warning glance. “Don’t say a word to anyone or act any different than normal around the mayor and cops. We can’t tip them off or give them any reason to change their scheduled delivery.”

  “Of course,” I agreed. “Are you going to ask the Mobile chief to help us catch them?”

  “Yes, along with the ALEA top brass.”

  “If you want to get back to the office, I can stay here with Holt until the Mobile cop arrives.”

  “Good idea,” Oliver said, glancing at his watch. “Someone should be here shortly. I’ll text you the name of the officer they’re sending as soon as I’m notified. Don’t let Dempsey and the other Enigma cops set foot in this room. Make up any excuse you have to.”

  Grim satisfaction pooled in my belly as I thought of thwarting Dempsey and Granger. It would be great to see those jerks get their comeuppance. “No worries,” I told Oliver. “It will be my pleasure to deny them entrance.”

  Chapter 29

  JORI

  I systematically walked from checkpoint to checkpoint, crossing items off my list as I confirmed that every facet of the Blessing event was progressing smoothly and on time. But amid the flurry of activity and cluster of tourists, I kept worrying about Zach and Mimi. Thank goodness Rose had agreed to stay at our house for the entire weekend; otherwise I couldn’t concentrate on my job.

  My worry had increased after last night’s call from Tegan informing me that the police watch of our house would be reduced from full time to an occasional drive-by. Effective immediately. Anger still roiled my gut at the news. Tegan had seemed preoccupied and distant during the call, in a rush to move on to other matters, even after I’d explained that Aunt Tressie was most likely the one behind the threatening notes and Zach’s abduction. Her response? Come to the office first thing Monday morning for us to discuss the matter.

  Did that mean she didn’t believe my theory? Or were Zach and our family considered unimportant? If it’d been the mayor’s son who’d been kidnapped, I’d bet every law enforcement officer in the county would be working around the clock to discover the culprit.

  The injustice of it simmered inside me behind my professional calm and polite smiles at the Blessing volunteers. Without their support, the event would never have grown the way it had.

  At the waterfront pier, the smell of seafood gumbo mingled with the scent of Vietnamese cuisine. Judging the cook-off was one of my favorite Blessing moments every year. I settled at a picnic table with the other judges and dug into the food, marking my rating of the individual fares.

  With a full, happy stomach, I left the pier to check the progress of the 5K Blessing Race, but my attention was caught by a group of sheriff’s deputies clustered by the marina. Tegan was part of the crowd, her expression intense and serious. It struck me that the entire group’s mood was different. Usually, the deputies and cops on security detail casually strolled about, seemingly enjoying themselves as much as the tourists. Despite my grudge with Tegan, curiosity propelled me to walk toward them.

  “Hello, Officers,” I said cheerily, edging into the group. “Everything going all right?”

  They all abruptly turned to stare at me. Lieutenant Oliver spoke first. “Everything’s under control, Ms. Trahern. How’s your brother doing?”

  “As far as I know, he’s fine. Presumably right at home where he should be. Of course, I’d feel more certain if there was a cop car still parked in front of our house, so . . .”

  Oliver didn’t appear the least bit fazed by my dig. “Good to hear he’s doing well. Deputy Blackwell’s told me that you two have an appointment on Monday to talk about a possible lead on the case.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking if they believed their mere presence at the Blessing meant more than solving an actual crime. Bottom line—they worked for the mayor, and this event was a huge financial boon to Bayou Enigma.

  “Yes. It wouldn’t take that much of her time to hear me out before then. But, whatever. Good day, everyone.”

  I hoofed it back to the pier, eager to exit before my bitterness caused me to say more that I’d probably later regret. Cheers and clapping erupted by the picnic area. I’d missed the cook-off winner announcement.

  “Jori, wait.”

  Tegan popped up beside me. “I can spare a few minutes to talk if you’d like.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I kept walking. “Wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “I’m trying to help you the best I can, given the circumstances. If you’d rather wait until Monday, then okay. I realize you’re busy too.”

  I came to a halt. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful. It’s been super stressful for me ever since I came home. The transition would have been difficult enough without all the added drama.”

  She nodded and folded her arms. “Of course. I’m a single mom, so I understand a little about stress. Not that I’m comparing my situation to yours. Tell me more about your aunt and why you think she’s behind everything.”

  I filled her in as succinctly as possible, conscious of her valuable time ticking away. “So you see, my aunt’s a great actress. For years, I never dreamed she had this dark side—until I talked to her ex-husband.”

  “Your theory is that she threatened you and kidnapped Zach to keep you from exposing her crime of buying a baby.”

  “It sounds far fetched when you repeat it back to me like that, but yeah, that’s exactly what I believe.”

  Tegan nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But you can’t believe your aunt killed her own son that she loved or had anything to do with the Cormier murders. You used to think the threats were all tied into everything else.”

  “True,” I admitted. “I was way off there. I wanted so much to help discover what happened to Deacon that I lumped everything together in my mind.”

  “Do you think your aunt’s really capable of murdering Strickland?”

  I didn’t hesitate with my answer. “Yes.”

  “Very well. Lieutenant Oliver and I will interview her as soon as possible. If she confesses or we uncover evidence to arrest her for suspicion of murder, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, don’t speak with your aunt or tip her off in any way that we’re investigating her.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Tegan turned to the group of officers by the waterfront and waved. “I should get back.”

  “Wait. Before you go. Have y’all made any progress in the Cormier case?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “You told me there’s evidence that law enforcement was always aware they’d been murdered. Can you give me anything more specific?” I’d been eaten up with curiosity ever since she’d slipped me that tiny bit of information.

  “Why are you so obsessed with that old case? I know you used to date Deacon in high school, but still.”

  Dating in high school. Put like that, it sounded as though Deacon and I merely had a passing crush for one another as kids. But as corny as it might seem to outsiders, Deacon had meant so much more to me than a teenage crush. He always would.

  During a difficult time in my life when my mother was dying and Zach was in his own bubbled world, he’d been the one person I could talk to. Really talk to. Mimi was great, a solid presence in my life, but hardly one who invited emotional conversations or wanted to listen to my vulnerabilities. She was old-school tough and would merely tell me to accept what was and move on, just as she had done.

  I struggled to explain this to Tegan. “Call it closure. I may have only been a teenager when he disappeared, but I’ve never felt closer to anyone than I did Deacon. Not even now.”

  Her face softened, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t jeopardize the investigation by discussing it.”

  Even though I’d expected that response, I sighed, and my shoulders hunched forward. “I get it.”

  “Blackwell!” One of the men called her name from the waterfront.

  She nodded at him and began walking away. “Later, Jori.”

  I watc
hed as she marched toward her peers. Halfway there, she held out an arm to them, an index finger waving. One moment, she signaled. To my surprise, she turned around and headed back to me.

  “We discovered a recording,” she said. “On it, Deacon was being filmed by his mother. He wore a tux and held a corsage in one hand. Moments later, someone entered the house, and gunshots were fired. There’s a long pause on the recording, but before the battery died, there’s the sound of the killer and one or more of his accomplices returning. Presumably to clean up and dispose of the bodies.”

  My heart pounded painfully against my ribs, so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if it crushed those bones. In the last moments of his life, I had to have been on Deacon’s mind, as he was dressed in the rented tux and holding the corsage meant for me.

  A recording. The significance of it slammed into my brain. “You couldn’t see the killer?”

  “Wrong camera angle.”

  “What about the voices?”

  “Too garbled to identify, and forensics couldn’t match them to any known suspects. None of the Cormiers’ nearest living relatives could identify them either.”

  “Send it to me.”

  “No. And don’t repeat what I’ve just told you.”

  “But I can help you. I’m great at identifying voices. I have synes—”

  “Blackwell!” Lieutenant Oliver’s voice had a hard edge.

  Tegan turned and hurried back to her job.

  My heart pounded in my chest. If I could just hear that recording, I might be able to solve the case. That is, if the killer was anyone I knew.

  Chapter 30

  TEGAN

  Sunday. The final day of the Blessing of the Fleet activities and the much-anticipated blessing by the archbishop. Ships were lined up by the drawbridge, awaiting their individual blessing before heading into the gulf to begin the fishing season.

  The small ship that Holt claimed held packages of heroin, cocaine, and fentanyl was midway in the line, awaiting its turn for the priest’s blessing. Of all the hypocrisy. Its name, Zephyr, was painted on the side of the hull.