Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18

by BJ Bourg

  The crowd cheered as the alligators splashed violently and disappeared under water. Otis then began driving back and forth along the shore. The jet ski bounced in the choppy water as he searched frantically for Camille. Water sprayed his face. While it helped to cool him, it also interfered with his vision and he had to constantly wipe his blurry eyes.

  The party goers had all scrambled back onto solid ground and the girls had covered up. They were now all screaming Camille’s name as they stood helplessly on the shore.

  “Call 911!” Otis hollered, growing more and more desperate. “We need help!”

  “There’s no service!” someone called back.

  Otis’ heart fell. He remembered trying to use his cell phone last night and not having reception. It had been at least ten minutes since he’d last seen Camille and he knew there was no way she could have survived under water that long. Guilt flooded over him. He shut off the engine and plopped down in the seat and cried.

  CHAPTER 2

  “I know we need the money that tourism brings to the town,” said an elderly man wearing faded overalls and white shrimper boots. He adjusted the microphone on the lectern slightly and continued, scanning the faces of the town council members as he spoke. “But does that mean we need to let them destroy our land? I say if they can’t respect our land, they can’t use it. Period!”

  The room erupted in cheers. I scanned the crowd from my seat centered at the back of the room. Although I was wearing plain clothes, I wasn’t hiding from anyone. I was well known in our little town of Mechant Loup, Louisiana. A complete stranger when I first came to town as the chief of police six years ago, I hadn’t wasted any time getting acquainted with the folks here. A lot had happened over the years and I had left the job for a brief period, only to return as the chief of detectives. However, I didn’t use the title, because until recently, I had been the only detective in town.

  Susan Wolf, my wife and the current chief of police, was seated to my left. Melvin Saltzman, who Susan had recently promoted to Lieutenant, was seated to my right. Amy Cooke, who worked with me as a detective, was sitting amongst the attendees. Mayor Pauline Cain had expected a raucous crowd tonight and she’d wanted us on hand in case fights broke out.

  The meeting had been going on for two hours and, so far, everything had been civil. The speakers were passionate and loud, for sure, but civil.

  “I used to be able to ride from the boat launch all the way to Le Diable Lake and never see so much as a single piece of trash,” the man complained in his thick Cajun accent. “Now, there’s beer bottles, candy wrappers, plastic cups, and Coke cans everywhere. I even pulled an old ice chest out of the water last time I went out to check my alligator lines. These kids don’t respect our land. They party like they’re at the beach. I saw one girl’s boobs the other day. She was all but naked, swinging from a rope on a tree. How long we gonna have to put up with this shit? Again, I say if they can’t respect our land, then they can’t use it!”

  He was starting to repeat himself, so Mayor Cain leaned forward and activated her microphone.

  “I understand your frustration, Mr. Burke,” said the mayor. “We’re working as hard as we can to keep these teenagers under control. The police department will be beefing up water patrols during the summer months. They have always strictly enforced the littering ordinance and they will continue to do so, but they’re also busy with more serious crimes.”

  “Littering is serious,” the man interrupted. “It’s gonna destroy our way of life.”

  There was a chorus of agreement from the crowd.

  “That’s why there’s an amendment to the littering ordinance on the agenda for tonight.” Mayor Cain paused and indicated the council members to her left and right. “I’ve met with each of the council members throughout the day and they’ve assured me they’re going to pass that amendment. First offense fines will double to $300, second offense to $500, and third offense to $1000. If that doesn’t get their attention, we’ll increase it even more.”

  The crowd cheered, but there were still some who weren’t satisfied.

  “What about those of us who live on the lakes?” piped up a man from the front of the room. “We can’t get no sleep, thanks to them blaring music at all hours of the night. And they race boats and jet skis up and down the lake. They almost hit my sons when they were checking their catfish lines last month. I swear, I’ll shoot any bastard who hurts one of my kids.”

  “Me, too!” hollered a woman from the far side of the room. “I keep my shotgun loaded for them!”

  Shaking her head, Susan stood and approached the microphone. Pauline Cain looked relieved. Turning to address the crowd, my beautiful wife smiled that crooked smile of hers that could disarm anyone. She was a sight to behold. Her khaki polyester uniform shirt and green BDU pants fit snugly, but were loose enough to allow her to move around if she had to fight. Her dark brown hair was braided into corn rows, which gave the appearance that she was ready to scrap if need be.

  “How many of you are willing to pay higher taxes so we can hire four additional officers to patrol the lakes fulltime in search of speeding boats and litterbugs?”

  The room suddenly turned quiet, except for a grumble or two.

  “I didn’t think so.” She scanned the room with her piercing brown eyes, no doubt seeking out the ones who had been the most vocal during the meeting. “Well, how about this—how about some of you join our auxiliary force? You would be commissioned as volunteer police officers and, after a little training, you would be able to patrol the waterways and write tickets for littering and speeding, and other minor infractions.”

  The room was still silent.

  “That’s what I thought.” Susan sighed heavily and shook her head. “Look, it’s easy to show up at these meetings once a month and voice your frustrations to the council, but the town doesn’t belong to them—it belongs to all of us. If we’re not willing to become part of the solution, then maybe we shouldn’t bitch so much.”

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd, but I caught a couple of the council members smirking.

  “What do we do when a hurricane blows through here?” Susan asked, continuing to address the room. Silence. “We don’t wait for some governmental agency to come along and help us. We band together and clean up the town. We lift each other up. Those who were spared any damage give to those who suffered most. The same is true when someone among us goes missing. We come together as one family and support each other in our efforts to find that person.”

  Heads were starting to bob up and down as they agreed with her.

  “We can do the same here,” she insisted. “If we band together and work as a family, we can get this done. The vast majority of the tourists who visit our area are good, conscientious people who simply want to enjoy all the natural resources we have to offer. They respect this place as much as we do. There are just a few people who don’t respect the outdoors. We can work together to educate these folks and teach them how to love and respect our paradise. For those who insist on tearing it up, we’ll hit them in the pocketbook—and we’ll hit them hard.”

  The room erupted again, but this time in cheers. Before the noise had simmered down, the back door burst open. Everyone jerked around to see what was taking place. I looked toward the noise and saw Takecia Gayle standing there. She was one of Susan’s patrol officers who worked the nightshift. Her dark face turned a shade lighter as she realized every eye was on her.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Chief,” she said in her Jamaican accent, “but I couldn’t reach you on the radio or your cell.”

  Susan’s expression grew serious. “What is it?”

  “We’ve got a problem.” Takecia studied the room, as though debating how much she should share to the entire town. Finally, she said, “A girl went under in Le Diable Lake earlier this afternoon and never resurfaced. They think an alligator got her.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Takecia’s announcement caused the room t
o erupt in excited chatter. Everyone stood and began bustling about the room, asking questions of their neighbors and wondering about the possibility of another alligator attack. Since Melvin and I were still on the back wall, we were able to avoid the crowd. We easily made it out the rear door right behind Takecia. We stopped near her patrol car, which was parked sideways in front of the building. The driver door was still open. I asked her what else she knew.

  “A bunch of college kids were cutting up and drinking on Le Diable Lake,” she explained, stopping to swat at a mosquito that had landed on her neck. “They say one of the girls went in the lake for a swim and she just went under all of a sudden. At that same time, the kids saw several alligators in the area, so they all got out of the water. They began calling out for her and one boy searched for her on a jet ski, but she never resurfaced.”

  “Do we know who she is?” I asked.

  “Camille Rainey from Bay City, Texas. She’s eighteen and was set to start college on Wednesday.”

  I scowled and dropped my head. Somewhere out there in Texas tonight, a mother and father were probably finishing up dinner and getting ready for bed. They might be making plans for tomorrow or asking one another if they remembered to pay Camille’s college tuition. Whatever they were doing, they probably had no clue of the horror that was unfolding in the muddy waters south of Mechant Loup. Unless one of Camille’s friends had notified them, they didn’t know their world was about to be turned upside down and their hearts were about to be violently ripped from their chests.

  “Can you keep covering my shift tonight?” Melvin asked Takecia. “I’ll pay you back whenever you like.”

  Takecia flashed her perfect smile. “What else would I do with my time?”

  Takecia worked opposite shifts from Melvin and had come out to cover the town so he could attend the meeting. A lifelong citizen of Mechant Loup, Melvin was well-connected with the town’s people—especially those who made their living on the water and off the land—and Mayor Cain thought his presence might help to calm the crowd if things started getting out of control. Luckily, we hadn’t had any problems.

  I was about to leave with Melvin to get the department’s Boston Whaler when Susan stomped out of the council meeting. She was followed by a dozen citizens, including the man in the overalls and white shrimper boots.

  “We want to help,” the man said, speaking for the crowd. “We’ve got boats with lights and we’ve got more people we can call.”

  I stuck out my hand and he introduced himself as Phillip Burke. I’d heard of the man, but had never met him. He owned an alligator farm on the outskirts of town and did very well for himself. He had contributed large sums of money to aid in the construction of our new police department after the old one had burned to the ground in a gun battle that had taken place nearly five years ago. Although it had been a long time ago, the emotional battle scars were still visible around town. We had lost some good people that day, and we would never forget them.

  “You and Melvin can head out to the lake,” Susan said. She indicated the group of men with a nod of her head. “I’ll set up a command center at the boat launch and give out assignments to our new auxiliary officers.”

  I smiled at her mention of the auxiliary officers and nodded. “Are you gonna let your mom know that we’ll be late, or should I?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  My mom and her mom always took turns babysitting our daughter Grace while we worked. Since neither of them worked anymore, they were always available and would even argue at times about whose turn it was to watch Grace. It was a huge benefit, and it was comforting to know we had two people we could trust to watch our daughter.

  I glanced past Susan and saw Brennan Boudreaux and Red McKenzie talking to Phillip. They all looked up and approached us.

  “I’ll get Paulie and we’ll meet you on the lake,” Red McKenzie said to me. There was sadness in his eyes. “It’ll help get our minds off of things.”

  I thanked him. He had recently lost his oldest son, and keeping busy would be the best thing for him and his youngest boy.

  “And I’ll get two of my workers to bring the big airboats to the lake,” Brennan Boudreaux offered. “I limit the boats to fifteen people during tours, but I can squeeze up to eighteen if we need to haul some of those kids back to the launch.”

  The brother of former mayor Dexter Boudreaux, the elderly man owned Brennan’s Seafood and Swamp Tours, a restaurant that also featured some of the most exciting boat tours in the area. I used to run my own tours and had even done a little part time work for Brennan’s company after I returned to police work, but I’d never done any in the airboats. Not only were they a blast, but they could go anywhere in the swamps. I welcomed his offer. We weren’t sure how many young people were out there on the water, but if they were drunk, we wouldn’t be allowing them to drive their boats and we would need to transport them back to the launch.

  While Susan began to finalize some details with the civilian volunteers, I jumped in my Tahoe and headed for the police department. Melvin had already left, and I raced to catch up with him. When I arrived at the station, I helped him hitch up the trailer and then we headed for the boat launch. It was situated along Bayou Tail Lane—

  named for the bayou it paralleled—and on the northern end of town. From there, we could access most of the lakes and waterways to the south and west of town, and this included Le Diable Lake.

  The shells popped against the undercarriage of Melvin’s truck as we made our way across the large parking area. Nearly every space was filled. There were empty boat trailers of all sizes attached to vehicles of all types—even some that probably shouldn’t be pulling boats, such as the black and white Harley Davidson parked at the very edge of the sidewalk.

  “That can’t be safe,” Melvin muttered, indicating the motorcycle.

  “It sure looks funny.” I shook my head and scanned the parking lot. I wondered how many of the vehicles out there belonged to the college kids on Le Diable. While the parking lot usually remained filled to capacity during the summertime and on weekends, this was more crowded than usual for a Monday night.

  “There”—Melvin pointed toward the wharf—“that must be the kid who called it in.”

  A young fellow stood alone at the end of the wharf. He was pacing feverishly back and forth while speaking on his cell phone. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t seem to notice our approach until Melvin had whipped the truck around to aim the back of the trailer into the slip.

  I jumped out and approached the boy while Melvin backed the boat into the water. The boy had stopped talking on the phone and now stood like a statue, waiting for me to reach him. The light on the pole nearest him illuminated the area and I could see that he wore board shorts. When I drew closer, I saw welts on his neck, arms, and chest from the mosquitoes that swarmed under the light. He didn’t even try to swat them away. It was as though they had beaten him into submission and were now having their way with him.

  “What’s your name, son?”

  “Um…I’m Otis. Otis.”

  “Otis who?”

  “Otis Williams.”

  “Are you the one who called it in?”

  He held up his phone. “I couldn’t get it to work until I got right here. I tried calling. We all tried calling, but it was no use.”

  “Yeah, we don’t get good reception on the water.” I glanced at one of the cleats attached to the wharf and saw a rope tied to it. I followed the rope with my eyes and found a jet ski attached to the other end. “Is that how you got here?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. His eyes were puffy and red, and it was obvious he had been crying. “Yes, sir. It took me a long time to get here, because I got lost a couple of times. Things look different on the lake at night.”

  Melvin had finished launching the boat and was now searching for a spot to park his large truck.

  “What happened out there on the lake?” I asked Otis.

  “
We…we were fighting.” He quickly shook his head. “Not fighting—just arguing. She got mad and took off her top and jumped in the lake.”

  “When you say her, who do you mean?”

  “Camille. She’s my girlfriend. Her name’s Camille Rainey.”

  “Go on, tell me what happened.”

  “I…um…I tried to get her to come back, but she swam farther away from the land. A bunch of people jumped in the water after her and they were all having a good time. They were swimming and splashing around, but she was far away from them. I…I was going to get her with the jet ski, but…but she went under.”

  I scowled, studying the boy. The fact that he was fighting with his girlfriend and then tried to get her with a jet ski just prior to her disappearance gave me pause.

  “Did you hit her with the jet ski?” I asked. “Maybe by accident?”

  He shook his head wildly. “No way! I never got close to her.”

  “So, when we find her body,” I pressed, “will there be any marks from the jet ski?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know. There shouldn’t be—not from my jet ski anyway.”

  “Go on,” I coaxed.

  “Um, there were these three guys—these three football players—and they were swimming to her just because she was topless. They wanted to mess around with her, and I knew she didn’t want them coming close to her.”

  “How could you tell that?”

  “Well, she was swimming backward, toward the middle of the lake.”

  “Okay…”

  “And I was going to get between her and those football players. You know, just to help her out of the water and to help her get covered up—get some clothes on.”

  “Did she want to get covered up or did you want her covered up?” I asked, looking him directly in the eyes. He turned away.