Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18

by BJ Bourg

  “Clint, Amy, this is Roger and Odelia Rainey,” Susan said. “They’re Camille’s parents.”

  “Detective Wolf,” said Roger, taking my hand in both of his, “did you find anything? Anything at all?”

  I frowned, and didn’t need to say anything. He hung his head and took a wavering breath.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” I put a hand on his shoulder while Susan and Amy consoled his wife, who was weeping quietly. “There’re still boats out on the water and we’re heading back as soon as we get some dinner. We’ll be out there until we find her. We won’t give up—this I promise you.”

  “I appreciate that more than you could know.” He glanced at his wife, who was now seated at a table speaking softly with Susan. There were a dozen other people under the large tent, and he pointed to a table all alone at the far corner. “Might I join you for dinner? We’ve been driving for over six hours and I’m famished.”

  “Absolutely.” I pointed to the shrimp baskets. “I highly recommend the fried shrimp and chicken.”

  While he went off to serve himself, I retrieved my food and took a seat at the table he had indicated earlier. I watched him serve a plate and wondered what he might be thinking. He was a large man who walked with pride. I wasn’t sure of his occupation, but I’d guess he worked in a position of authority. At least, that’s how he commanded himself.

  “You were right to recommend the shrimp,” he said after sitting and taking a bite of his food. “If there’s one thing Louisianans know, it’s food.”

  I nodded and tapped my stomach. I’d put on about five pounds since getting married. While I was still in good shape, the extra weight did bother me—that is, until I heard someone say it was a sign of a happy marriage.

  “Then Susan must be miserable,” I’d said jokingly, “because she’s as fit as I’ve ever seen her.”

  I told Roger the story and he laughed. “Well, I must be very happy, because I’ve put on fifty pounds since getting married.” He pointed to his head. “The gray hair and the wrinkles come from having a child. Our lives were much different before Camille was born. I haven’t slept a full night since.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said absently. “I’ve got a little one.”

  He swallowed the one bite he’d taken and then used his fork to toy with the food on his plate. After a long moment, he began talking, but he continued staring down at his food, as though his plate was a window into his happier past.

  “Camille has been fighting her entire life, and I’ve been rooting for her just as long,” he said quietly. “She came to Odelia and me later in life. She was born premature. The doctors gave her a ten-percent chance of survival. That was her first fight. She fought valiantly and I was there the entire way, believing in her. She won that fight, just like I knew she would. When she was twelve, she was attacked by a group of bullies at school and she ended up in the hospital with a brain bleed. She was given a twelve-percent chance of survival that time. Like the little fighter she is, she fought like the devil and pulled through, and I pulled for her the entire time.”

  I was no longer hungry. I had stopped eating and was hanging on his every word.

  “When she was seventeen, she was involved in a helicopter crash with seven other kids from her school.” He sighed heavily. “That was a bad one. We got word that she had been killed. It had been confirmed by the name badge pinned to her uniform and a physical description. Although there was zero chance she had survived, I refused to give up on my little girl.”

  I didn’t move an inch because I didn’t want to interrupt him. He took a heavy breath and shook his head.

  “That was a long night,” he said. “Refusing to believe she was gone, I drove four hours to the hospital where the only two survivors had been taken. It was there that I got the shock of my life.”

  My jaw was hanging now.

  “It seemed Camille and her best friend—a girl who could’ve passed for her sister—had switched name badges to fool the teachers.” He frowned and shook his head. “While I was so relieved that Camille was alive, I felt horrible for her best friend’s family. They had been told that their daughter was alive, but when they arrived at the hospital they realized a mistake had been made.”

  “Wow,” I said, unable to contain myself.

  “Well, Camille wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot. She spent three months in the hospital, but she did make a full recovery.” He pushed his plate away and leaned back. After a moment, he looked me right in the eyes. “I need to know her chances, Detective Wolf. I need a percentage.”

  I licked my dry lips. His story was as compelling as any I’d ever heard. He and his family had already been through too much stress and pain. Camille had already fought so hard so many times, only to lose that fight at the bottom of a muddy lake. I shifted in my chair. How was I supposed to tell this man that his daughter had zero chances of survival? That this was no longer a search and rescue mission, but rather a recovery mission?

  “Please…I need a percentage,” he insisted.

  I stood uneasily and gathered up my plate.

  “Detective, I need something—”

  “I’d say one percent.”

  He sighed heavily. Before he could say anything more, I hurriedly walked away.

  CHAPTER 12

  “You didn’t even touch your food,” Amy said as she followed me to the airboat.

  “I lost my appetite.” When we reached the boat, I pulled out my cell phone and checked my messages. We would soon be back in the dead zone and I didn’t know when I’d get back here. After hearing Camille’s story, I wanted to find her soon, so she could at least get a proper burial.

  I had seventeen text messages and three voicemails. One of the voicemails was from Dr. Louise Wong. I waved Amy close and put it on speaker phone.

  “Clint, it’s Louise,” she said. “As for your first victim, he drowned. There were no signs of foul play or other injuries. The tox should be back in three weeks. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know. Oh, and I need a name for him. If you don’t have one, make one up so I can get him out of here.”

  There was a pause after her joke and we could hear pages flipping in the background.

  “Your second victim—this Chrissy Graves—she also drowned. Again, no signs of foul play, no other injuries, and her tox has been ordered. Just a note here: had these kids been wearing life vests, they’d still be alive. I know the town stresses water safety, but, apparently, no one’s listening. Hopefully this will open some eyes. Oh, and one more thing—stop sending me dead bodies.”

  The message ended and I climbed into the pilot’s seat. I had been content to let Amy drive, but I now wanted some wind in my hair. After Amy was seated and had her earmuffs on, I fired up the engine and blasted away from the wharf. With my left palm resting on the rudder stick, I settled in to enjoy the ride through the darkness.

  I hadn’t put on my earmuffs, because I wanted the full force of the engine roaring right up against my eardrums. I was hoping the noise and wind would help to clear my mind. However, I did put on some goggles so I wouldn’t trap bugs in my eyes.

  As I drove, I tried to think of anything but the case. I certainly didn’t want to dwell on the story Roger had told me. It would make it that much harder to notify him when we found Camille’s body, and it would also make it that much harder to recover the body. Camille had come alive to me through Roger’s story, and I hated him for telling it.

  Before heading back to Le Diable Lake, an idea occurred to me and I veered into Lake Berg. The young man we’d located hadn’t walked on water, so there had to be an abandoned vessel out there somewhere. I decided to ride the perimeter of the lake to find it.

  The bow of the vessel rocked up and down as we cut across the choppy waters of Lake Berg. I gave Amy some hand signals to let her know my intention. She nodded and grabbed a spotlight and began scanning the shoreline to our right. Thus far, the boat ride had done nothing to clear my mind, but the disco
very we were about to make would offer a momentary distraction.

  We had been touring the perimeter for about twenty minutes when we saw a blue kayak floating aimlessly near the eastern bank of the lake. I steered the airboat in that direction and slowed down. The waves from our boat made the kayak rock violently. My heart suddenly lurched in my chest when Amy’s spotlight covered the length of the kayak and I took it all in.

  There were two fishing poles stabbed into the pole holders. A tackle box was secured to the deck with bungee cords. A floating fish basket trailed behind the kayak, attached by a short length of rope, and a life vest was secured by a carabiner. None of those things were remarkable. What got my attention was the fact that it was a tandem kayak, and that meant there was another missing person out there.

  I shut off the engine and dropped down from the pilot’s seat. Ripping the goggles from my face, I pointed and said, “He wasn’t alone!”

  Amy turned the spotlight toward the shore, panning from left to right. “You think someone’s out there?”

  I nodded. I grabbed a push pole and used it to slide the kayak closer. Once it was within reach, I snatched the grab handle and pulled it into the airboat and rested it across the gunwales. I then popped the top on the hatch. I gave a triumphant yell when I saw a wallet inside, but then grunted when I noticed a small purse. It was true—there was another victim out here, and it was a female.

  “What is it?” Amy asked, turning from the shore.

  I dug through the wallet, and found the driver’s license. I held it up so the light from the boat could illuminate it.

  “Our male victim is Frank Jones,” I announced. “He’s from Biloxi, Mississippi.”

  “Does the picture look like the guy y’all pulled out of the lake?”

  I nodded as I dug through the little purse. I located another driver’s license. Holding it up, I read the name aloud. “Nelly Martinez. She’s from Pass Christian, Mississippi.”

  I dropped the wallet and purse back into the hatch and returned the kayak to the water. I had just tied it to the stern of the airboat when I heard Amy say something.

  “What’s that?” I asked, straightening and turning to face her. She had moved to the port side—away from the shore—and was scanning the waters.

  She gave me a puzzled look. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I cocked my head and turned my ear to the air. Amy pushed away from the side of the boat and moved toward me. When she stopped moving, I thought I heard a muffled voice calling from somewhere in the distance.

  “Is that a human voice?” I asked.

  Amy closed her eyes and listened intently. I listened, too, and heard the sound of water lapping gently against the sides of the boat. An alligator grunted from somewhere across the lake. A bird squawked on the wing. Dozens of frogs sang a chorus from the nearby shore. I was about to dismiss the voice as one of the natural sounds of the swamp when it happened again.

  Amy’s eyelids shot open and she pointed toward the north. “There! It came from that direction! It’s a woman’s voice.”

  Relief gushed through me as I fired up the engine and pushed the airboat in that direction. After traveling a few dozen yards, I shut off the engine and allowed the boat to drift. We listened intently and, sure enough, the voice called out again, this time closer.

  Amy scanned the shore with the floodlight while I flipped on the police lights.

  “Nelly!” I called over the bullhorn. “We’re with the Mechant Loup Police Department. Make your way to the edge of the water and wave so we can see you.”

  We waited with bated breath. After several minutes, we saw movement from the trees and a young woman stepped into the light. She wore a life vest over a bikini top and had on swimming shorts for a bottom. Her legs, face, and arms looked like a boiled crawfish, thanks to her exposure from the unrelenting summer sun. Even from that distance I could see that she was trembling with fear. Although she looked haggard, she was alive, and that was something to celebrate.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Oh, thank God!” Nelly said in her Mississippi accent as she clutched onto Amy, who was trying to help the young woman into the boat.

  “It’s okay,” Amy said, pausing to let Nelly get it out of her system. “You’re safe now.”

  The trembling throughout her body showed no signs of subsiding, but Nelly eventually let go of Amy’s neck long enough for Amy to help her into the boat. I had grabbed a blanket from one of the dry boxes and handed it to Nelly. Although it was warm out, she took it gratefully and wrapped it around her body. Next, I handed her a bottle of water.

  She pulled the bottle to her parched lips and was about to suck it all down when I grabbed her hand.

  “Slowly,” I said. “Take small sips at first. Give your body time to adjust.”

  She nodded and took a single swallow. I glanced away for a second and then heard her gasp for air. When I looked back at her, I saw that she’d downed the entire body in the second gulp.

  “More,” she said breathlessly.

  I gave her another, but warned her to drink it slower this time. She did take her time, but the water didn’t last long.

  “I ran out of water yesterday,” she said when she’d finished the second bottle. I was struck by how much she sounded like that blonde woman from the home improvement television show that was filmed in Mississippi.

  “How long have you been out here?” I asked, noting her gaunt features and the dried mud caked to her strawberry blonde hair.

  “Um, we got to the camp on Friday, around three o’clock,” she said slowly. “Frank wanted to go fishing right away, so we took the kayak out. That was Friday evening. So…um, I think…”

  Nelly’s voice trailed off and she began using her fingers to try and calculate the days. She looked up, confused. “What day is it?”

  “It’s Tuesday night,” I said softly, “around eleven o’clock.”

  “Oh, my God, I’ve been out here for four days?” The thought seemed to horrify her.

  “You must be hungry,” Amy said, handing her an extra plate of food she’d prepared for later. “We’ve got more water and Coke. Which would you prefer?”

  “I’d die for a Coke right now!” Nelly took the plate of white beans and shrimp and began eating. She scooped up the rice and beans and shoveled it right into her mouth. I don’t know if she even chewed before swallowing. She put the plate aside when Amy approached with the Coke and cradled it in both hands like a prized possession. She drank deeply of the soda and her eyes smarted when the carbonated beverage hit her throat. She took a breath after swallowing and then licked white beans from her dirty fingers. Afterward, she began using the fork Amy had provided to work her way through the rest of the food.

  I watched until she had scraped the plate clean.

  “When were you due back home?” I finally asked.

  “Next Sunday.”

  I now realized why we hadn’t received a missing person report on Frank.

  Nelly suddenly burped loudly and threw a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”

  Amy and I laughed, but she didn’t. Her face was somber and she glanced from Amy to me, searching our eyes.

  “Did you find Frank?” Her eyes swelled with tears. “Is he okay?”

  “Um, we found a young man,” I began slowly. “We think it’s Frank.”

  “You did? Oh, thank God!” She was excited at first, but then grew cautious. Her hollow eyes searched mine. “Wait—what’s going on? Why did you say you think it’s him? Wouldn’t he tell you it’s him? Why did you say that? Where’s my husband?”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Her hand relaxed and the fork fell from it. “No!”

  “I’m afraid he’s gone.”

  She threw both hands to her face and began weeping hysterically. The blanket fell from her shoulders. “No! No! No!”

  Amy put a hand on her shoulder, but we waited quietly until her sobs had subsided somewhat.

&nb
sp; “What happened to him?” she asked in a whisper. “What did it?”

  “According to the coroner, he drowned,” I said, curious about how her question had been formulated.

  “Drowned?” She lifted her head and stared at me, her eyes filled with horror. “He didn’t drown. He was attacked.”

  I scowled. “Attacked?”

  “I believe something grabbed him and pulled him into the water.” She licked her dry and cracked lips. One of the cracks had started to bleed. “We were paddling not far from here and I was sitting in the front. He was talking to me. He was saying we were going to fry our own fish and maybe try to catch some crabs. This was our honeymoon, you know.”

  “No, I wasn’t aware.”

  She nodded and continued. “We had gone online and rented this camp with crab cages. The website said we could use the cages to catch some crabs. Frank, he was just talking about that and saying how nice it was to finally be married. All of a sudden, I felt the kayak jerk and then I heard a loud splash. When I turned, he was being pulled into the water.”

  “Hold up,” I said, leaning closer. “What do you mean when you say he was being pulled into the water? Describe exactly what you saw.”

  “I saw his body being bent backwards off the back of the kayak,” she explained. “Something must’ve pulled him into the water, but it had to be strong, because Frank and I take kickboxing classes and he’s really tough.”

  “Did you see anything else?”

  She shook her head. “There was a loud splash when he went in and then that was it. I never saw him again.”

  “Could he have fallen?”

  She wiped her eyes and took some time to consider the question. Finally, she shook her head. “He was bent too far back—like, at an odd angle. Something definitely pulled him in.”

  I grunted, racking my brains to try and figure out what could’ve pulled him into the water.

  “Did you see what it was?” I asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I just saw him disappearing.”