by BJ Bourg
“If this happened on Monday night, why should I go back a couple of weeks?” Amy wanted to know. “If it were me, I’d roll into town the weekend before the exhumation, get what I came for, and haul ass out of Dodge.”
“You’re probably right, but they might’ve been in town for a few days before the dig. Would you go straight to the location after thirty years of waiting, or would you put the area under surveillance first?” I waved a hand around my office. “I bet everything’s changed around here in thirty years.”
Amy nodded. “You have a point. I’ll begin with check-out dates and work backwards from there.”
I stood and donned a pair of gloves. Amy did the same and helped me secure the items from the wallet into separate evidence envelopes. Once that was done, we entered them into the evidence lockers and I told her I’d stay in touch during my trip.
“You’d better,” she retorted, and led the way out into the warm evening air.
I drove straight home with Achilles and we found Susan in the gym. She was working over the heavy bag that hung at the center of the boxing ring. Sweat flew from her arms with each punch she threw. Achilles stretched out on the concrete and watched Susan with interest. We all felt at home when Susan was working her bags.
She must’ve sensed our presence, because she abruptly stopped and whipped around. She relaxed when she saw me standing there. She smiled and approached the ropes that surrounded the boxing ring. Draping her glistening arms over the top rope, she smiled down at us. “What’s up, love?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Um, I need to head to Utah. It turns out our skeletal remains belonged to a guy named Bud Walker, who was from Utah. He’s a suspect in a murder and armored car heist from thirty years ago. I need to study their old case file. It might provide some leads—help us catch Zeke’s killer.”
Her eyebrows rose in interest. She slipped between the ropes and dropped to a seated position on the edge of the boxing ring, her feet dangling over the side. Achilles took that as an invitation to run up and lick her boxing gloves.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Tonight.”
“Great. I’m coming with you.” She smiled warmly. “It can be a little romantic getaway.”
I hesitated, but remembered that Grace was at Disney World for two weeks. A smile suddenly spread across my face.
“If driving across the country to hunt down a murdering bastard is supposed to be romantic,” I said, “then I guess that’s what it’ll be—a romantic getaway.”
CHAPTER 28
After making arrangements with Melvin to check in on our dogs, Susan and I hit the road. We drove all through the night, only stopping once for gas, and the sun was coming up just as we were driving through Dallas. Traffic was horrible. When we finally squirted through to the other side of the city, we stopped for gas and a snack. Susan drove from there while I slept, and we didn’t stop again until we hit Amarillo. After stopping for a juicy steak at The Big Texan for lunch, I took over the driving again.
Amy called when we were about an hour west of Amarillo.
“What do you want first?” she asked, her voice blaring from the Tahoe’s speakers. “The good news or the bad news?”
“Hit us with the bad stuff first,” I said, easing into the left lane to pass an 18-wheeler. Susan reached up and lowered the blower on the a/c so we could hear her better.
“Okay, so I went to every damn hotel, motel, and bed and breakfast in Chateau, just like you asked. Not only did I check the log books for two weeks, but I went back to the middle of last month.” She took a breath and huffed. “There wasn’t a single person from Utah in those logs. Not only that, but there wasn’t a single person from west of Texas. No one knows we’re here, Clint. It’s a complete mystery how this fellow ended up in the bottom of a hole, deep in the swamps of Louisiana.”
“Is that the bad news?” I had been expecting something worse. “Because that’s not terrible. They could’ve stayed elsewhere or slept in the back seat of their vehicle.”
“Don’t go taking a victory lap just yet,” she warned. She hesitated for a long moment.
“What is it, Amy?”
“You know how you haven’t heard from Red McKenzie today?”
I hadn’t realized it until just then. Something in her voice told me I didn’t want to hear the rest, but curiosity got the best of me. “What happened?”
“I had to arrest him.”
“What?” I groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn’t done something really bad. “What’d he do?”
“He got drunk and started tearing up Mitch Taylor’s Corner Pub,” she said apologetically. “I tried to get him to calm down, but he said some not-so-nice things about you and took a swing at me.”
“What in the hell is that place turning into?” Susan asked in exasperation. “That’s the second fight there this week.”
“Yeah, well, I also arrested Joseph Billiot,” Amy continued. “One of the locals tried to grab Red to make him calm down, but Joseph flattened him with a punch to the temple. The victim will be okay, but he wanted to press charges.”
“Why’d you make the arrest?” Susan wanted to know. “Where was Baylor?”
“He got there a few minutes after I did. I was eating across the street, so that’s why I beat him there. He was really pissed. He said it’s the second time someone beat him to a fight.” Amy laughed and then shifted gears. “So, where are y’all?”
I told her and she said she would start checking into private rentals. “I know people put their homes and camps up for rent on those vacation websites nowadays, so that might be where they stayed.”
I told her it was a good idea and was about to end the call when she addressed Susan.
“How do you like Regan?”
Susan’s face lit up. “I love her! She’s going to be a great fit. How is she liking her job so far?”
“She loves it,” Amy said. “I had to warn her that things weren’t always this exciting though. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression and think we would always be busy.”
Amy was right to warn Regan. While we did have our share of excitement from time to time in Mechant Loup, on most days, it was a lazy town. There were a number of outdoor activities to keep the tourists and locals busy, but our officers did find the job boring on most days. Well, except for Melvin. If it got too bad, he hit the waters and drummed up some action.
“Oh, one more thing,” Amy said before hanging up. “Y’all should know that Melvin kidnapped Achilles and Coco. He took them for a ride in the boat. He left this morning and he hasn’t been back yet.”
I smiled, knowing Achilles would love the ride. I worked for about a year as a swamp tour guide and Achilles had been my partner. I remembered back then when I could almost see a tear rolling down his eye when the day was over and we’d have to head back home.
We ended the call and continued on our journey. As the day drew on, we passed through Albuquerque, Farmington, Cortez, and every small town along the way. We finally rolled into Moab at about ten o’clock. We had stopped a few times for gas, and we studied every person in the parking lot of each gas station, wondering if we might’ve caught up to the killers.
We had also been scanning license plates since leaving Mechant Loup, but we hadn’t seen a single Utah plate until we reached Dove Creek, CO, which was about an hour and a half behind us.
“Do you think we passed them on the road?” Susan asked as she pulled into a convenience store.
I had been staring at the cars driving by, wondering that very thing. “Even if we did, we’d never know it.” I glanced at the GPS on the dash. We were three hours from Windrift. “Want to drive for another hour or so and then crash for the night? I’d love to see Moab in the daytime, but I want to be closer to Windrift.”
Susan agreed. After fueling up, grabbing a quick bite at a local diner on a busy strip, we got back on the road. When we were an hour from the Windrift Police Department, we settle
d in at a hotel near the opening to a national park. The bed was comfortable and Susan was warm as she cuddled next to me. As I closed my eyes, I almost forgot about the reason for making the road trip…almost, but not quite.
CHAPTER 29
The mountainous rocks across from the hotel were glowing orange when we stepped out of the hotel early Saturday morning.
“God, it’s beautiful,” Susan said, staring off in the distance.
I strolled beside her and took in the beauty. “I wish we had time to explore that national park.”
“We’ll have to come back with Gracie.”
I liked the sound of that. Wasting no more time, we sped out of the parking lot and headed west. We ate a quick breakfast in the hotel and left early. While the eggs in the hotel weren’t the best I’d ever eaten, it would certainly keep me alive until lunch time.
The stretch of road we were on featured some of the most beautiful country I’d ever seen. I’d never witnessed a landscape so golden before. I could tell Susan was also in awe, because she just stared out of her window in admiration. I loved seeing her that happy.
The closer we got to Windrift, the more troubling were my thoughts. What if this trip turned out to be a colossal waste of time? How would I go about explaining this to Red McKenzie, who now sat in jail because I hadn’t solved his son’s murder yet? I hadn’t even given it a second thought. I wanted to see the case file for myself, and I’d made an impulse decision to leave immediately and drive straight up here. But was there more to it than that? Was I being completely honest with myself?
As I cruised by a sign that welcomed us to Windrift—Population 2,564—it suddenly occurred to me why I was here. In my heart of hearts, I truly believed Zeke McKenzie’s killers were in this town. And if they were here, then I didn’t want to be anyplace else.
Susan pointed to a small tan-colored brick building on the left side of the road. “I think that’s the police department.”
I took her word for it and turned into the parking lot. It was only then that I saw a small sign in the corner that read, Windrift Police. The building was tiny, about the size of a rest area bathroom. The front door was made of glass and it was tinted, so we couldn’t see inside.
“At least there’s a Pepsi machine out front,” I commented, shutting off the engine. “We’ll never go thirsty.”
Susan stepped from the Tahoe and stretched. As we walked to the front entrance, she said out of the corner of her mouth, “The machine is out here because it doesn’t fit inside.”
When we entered the tiny lobby, I realized she was actually correct. The room was barely big enough for the two chairs cramped beside each other on a wall opposite a glass window. A receptionist in a blue sundress looked up when we entered. Her smile was pleasant enough.
“You must be the detectives from Louisiana.”
Susan and I each wore jeans and a Polo shirt. Since we weren’t in our jurisdiction, we carried our weapons concealed. I thought we looked like everyday folk, but apparently the receptionist wasn’t fooled.
“Good guess,” I said. “We’re here to see—”
“Leah.” She smiled again. “I’ll buzz her.”
I turned away from the window and glanced at Susan. She was looking at me and her expression was serious.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re not here to see some case file. You’re on the hunt.”
A door across from the main entrance burst open and rescued me. A woman wearing blue jeans, cowgirl boots, and a button-down shirt stood there looking at us. She was in her early fifties with blonde hair and faded blue eyes that had seen too much sorrow stood there. She smiled—it didn’t erase the sadness from her eyes—and held out her hand.
“I’m Leah.”
Susan and I took turns shaking hands and introducing ourselves. Leah then led us down a narrow hall to a cramped office that was barely big enough for the metal desk, single filing cabinet, and three chairs that occupied the space. Two of the chairs didn’t belong, and I knew she’d dragged them in for us. We had to squeeze in so she could close the door and then we were able to sit.
From the moment I’d stepped into the office, my eyes had been fixated on a large box resting on the desk. Inside that cardboard cube might be the key to solving my case, and I couldn’t wait to dive in.
Leah remained standing and began digging file folders from the box and resting them on the table. She slid one in my direction. “These are the crime scene photos.”
I opened the folder and began thumbing through the pictures. Leah was right—it was a gruesome scene. The first picture was a Polaroid and it fully depicted the violence that had descended on the small establishment.
Rebecca—the young clerk who had been murdered—was lying on her back behind the counter. She was completely nude. Her skin looked like freshly fallen snow and it greatly accentuated the bloody bullet holes in her torso. She had lost a great deal of blood and, although she had a natural porcelain complexion, I was positive it had rendered her flesh a few shades lighter than its normal color.
On the ground beside Rebecca was another young woman, but this one wore a uniform that was identical to the one in which Bud Walker’s skeletal remains were wrapped.
“This picture was taken by the first officer on the scene,” Leah explained, looking down at the Polaroid in my hand. “He thought he was viewing a double murder scene, but then Winona moaned and he began rendering aid.”
The next photo was of the same area, but Winona was no longer present in the picture. I went through every photograph in the file—handing each to Susan after I was done—and studied every detail of each of them. When I was done, and having found nothing useful, I began diving into the reports and other documents.
Leah walked out from time to time, but she remained on hand for the most part to answer our questions. I looked up when I found a transcript of an interview with a female named Katina Walker.
“Is this Bud’s daughter?” I asked.
Leah frowned and nodded. “Poor girl was only twelve when her dad murdered Rebecca and disappeared with the money.”
I scanned the interview. For most of it, Leah was asking Katina about the last time she’d spoken to her dad and if she knew where her dad might go if he went on a long trip. As I read, I tried to imagine what it must’ve been like for the young girl to hear the news about her father. I placed the transcript down and stared off. Katina would be forty-two now. She was probably married and had kids of her own. I wondered how life had turned out for her and if she ever thought about her father.
“What is it?” Susan asked when she saw me zoning out. “Did you find something?”
“I want to talk to Katina Walker.” I nodded, sure of it, but there was something I had to do first. Leaving the report behind and stepping outside, I called the coroner’s office and asked for Dr. Louise Wong. I was on hold for less than a minute.
“Hey, Clint, I was about to call you.”
“Well, here I am.”
“Turns out, it was quite easy to find the medical records on your skeleton, thanks to Mr. Bud Walker being a wanted man,” she said with a chuckle. “Everyone knew his name—from receptionists to emergency room doctors to dentists in every office I called—and I got a long list of nurses and doctors who treated him years ago. Many of them were retired, but his dentist was still in business and I found one nurse who worked for the surgeon who installed the screws in his jaw.”
I sighed in relief. “Were you able to positively identify him?”
“Tentatively, not positively,” she said. “I’ve got some film coming over the wire from the hospital, an orthopedic surgeon, and his dentist. Once I compare the slides, I’m confident I’ll be able to tell you with medical certainty that it’s him, but—for now—I’ll just say, off the record, that it’s him.”
That was good enough for me. I walked back inside and asked Leah if she knew where I could find Katina.
“The last contact I had
with her was at her job. She’s the office manager at a law firm in the city.” Leah dug through the file and pulled out a notebook. After flipping through the pages, she snatched up the phone. “I’ll call her and see if she’s available.”
Susan and I stood silently while Leah spoke with Katina Walker. When she hung up the phone, she nodded. “She’s agreed to meet with us during her lunch break.”
I glanced at my phone. It was almost nine. We had been at the police department for a little over two hours. “Can we see the crime scene?” I asked. “And the spot where the truck was burned?”
“We can go to the location, but the video store is no longer there,” she said. “It was demolished about five years ago after sitting empty for years, and nothing was ever built on the property. It’s along a stretch of road that’s not well-traveled, which is why I think Bud picked that spot to make his move.”
“That’s fine.” I nodded. “I just want to get a feel for the area. I want to see what he saw when he was out there—or whatever’s left of it.”
Leah led us down the hallway and through the lobby, stopping only long enough to tell the receptionist she would be on the road for the rest of the day.
CHAPTER 30
Amy was just finishing up the transport paperwork on Red McKenzie to have him sent to the Chateau Parish Detention Center when the man called to her from the jail cell.
“Detective Cooke, can I call to check on my son?” Red’s words were coherent again. When she’d arrested him yesterday evening, he could barely get his name right. “He’s probably worried since I didn’t come home last night.”
Amy put her ink pen down and strolled out of the booking room. Red’s sweaty hair was plastered to his forehead and he leaned against the bars as though they were the only things keeping him upright.
