Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy: Boxed Set

by BJ Bourg

  Achilles barked beside me, as though he could somehow scare away the threat. I told him to sit, and he complied. I then pulled the steaks from the grill with the tongs and tossed them into the yard. Achilles followed the meat with his eyes and his ears perked up, but he stayed seated.

  I left the hood open on the pit so it could air out and stood there staring at the smoldering meat, hands shoved deep in my pocket, shoulders slumped. My mind was blank. When the ribeyes appeared cool enough, I waved for Achilles to go get them, and he did. He attacked them with the same ferociousness I wanted to direct at Beaver. I clenched my fists in my pockets and felt the fabric stretch.

  Do I call her and tell her I know about her and Beaver? I shook my head. That’ll make me look crazy, like I’ve been following her. Besides, she doesn’t owe me anything. No one said anything about exclusivity.

  I sighed, walked back inside. As I stared at it, my heart pounded against my chest. Don’t do it. It’s too early.

  I stood there for a long time, staring at the handle to my liquor cabinet. It was dark outside and Achilles was scratching to come back inside before I turned my eyes away from it. I let Achilles in. He lapped up some water from his bowl, curled up in a corner of the living room to sleep—fat with content.

  I should’ve been hungry, but I wasn’t. I sat on the sofa and closed my eyes, trying to focus on nothingness. The television droned in the background. It didn’t sound like the news anymore, but I didn’t open my eyes to see. I felt myself slipping…

  I jerked awake when Abigail’s face returned to haunt my dreams. I glanced at the clock. Shit! I’d only been sleeping for five minutes.

  A loud chirping noise sounded from the living room floor. I looked in the direction and saw my phone. I suddenly remembered. I grew nauseous. I stood and walked to the kitchen to dig out a bottle of vodka.

  Like a man who’d just reached an oasis after crawling through the desert for days, I twisted off the cap and brought the bottle to my mouth with hands that shook. I drank deep, gobbling up the smooth liquid. I finally put the bottle down and gasped for air. It warmed my throat, and the warmth moved downward through my chest and into my stomach. I sighed, then took another drink. I grabbed a second bottle, because it felt like that kind of a night.

  I returned to the sofa and stared blankly at the television as I drank, allowing the liquor to do its job. I felt it in my lips first. They began to tingle. The sharp pain in my chest slowly began to fade to a dull throb. My eyes slid shut and I started to drift off—Damn it! My phone again. I jerked up and rushed across the living room, snatched it from the floor and looked at the screen. Chloe. With a grunt, I flung the phone across the room. It smashed violently against the far wall and separated into dozens of pieces. Achilles yelped in surprise and darted into his crate and curled up in the corner.

  I turned and realized the room was spinning. I stumbled back to the sofa, where I reached for the bottle of vodka. It was empty. I uttered another grunt and stretched out on the sofa to sleep.

  CHAPTER 48

  Friday, July 4

  I thought I heard someone calling my name. I tried to lift my head, but winced at the shot of pain that stabbed through my brain. The backs of my eyelids were bright, so I knew it was morning. I forced them open and looked through the blur. I was in my living room. Alone. Something smelled awful. I glanced down and saw vomit on my shirt. It was still damp against my chest. “Shit!”

  I started to sit up, then heard my name again through the haze. What the—

  I nearly choked on my tongue when I saw my picture plastered on the television screen. It was a mugshot from my years working in the city, and there was a caption at the bottom that read, Clint William Wolf, Dead at 29. I was instantly alert, cocking my head sideways in confusion.

  “…had recently joined the Mechant Loup Police Department as its chief of police. Sources tell us he lost his daughter and wife in a botched armed robbery two years ago and that his hatred for the governor stemmed from the governor’s policy prohibiting law enforcement officers from carrying their weapons into privately owned businesses while off-duty. In other news, a shooting downtown has left three people dead and another injured. Police say—”

  I scrambled across the floor, feeling for the remote. I finally found it and switched through the channels, searching for a news station that was still playing the story. I tried all the local stations, but they had moved on to other news. As I scrolled through the higher channels, I came across a national news channel and froze when I saw a picture of the governor beside a picture of me. Panic settled into my chest and smothered me as I listened to the anchorwoman talk.

  “An explosion at a local airport has rocked a small community deep in south Louisiana and sent waves of panic across the entire state as officials confirm that Governor Lester Katz lost his life today in what authorities are calling a clear terror attack. Law enforcement agencies throughout the state, and even the country, are on high alert today as they anticipate other such attacks. Chloe Rushing is a local reporter for the town of Mechant Loup and is on the ground near the site of the explosion. She has more on this developing story. Chloe…”

  Chloe appeared on camera wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a ponytail and a microphone in her hand. She stood in front of the plantation home Michele had purchased without my knowledge. I felt sick.

  “Thanks, Jenn. Yes, state police officials have confirmed that the governor and his colonel were killed in an explosion early this morning at an airport in central Chateau Parish. They have also confirmed that Chief of Police Clint Wolf is a suspect in the assassination of the sixtieth…sixtieth governor of the…the…um…the State of Louisiana—”

  Chloe’s chin began to tremble, as she struggled to get another word out, but couldn’t. She dropped her head and pushed the microphone against her face and wept. The camera quickly returned to the anchorwoman, who looked stunned. She quickly recovered when she realized she was live again.

  “A very emotional day in that small community, as you can see there. What our affiliate has learned from a confidential source is that explosives were found inside an old plantation home belonging to Police Chief Clint Wolf’s deceased wife, and they believe it is where he built the bomb used to kill the governor. Sources say Wolf had been at odds with the governor’s policies ever since he worked as a homicide detective in the city, and he directly blamed the governor for the horrendous murders of his wife and daughter two years ago.

  “According to news reports, the ex-detective was having dinner with his family when four gunmen—believed to be part of the riots plaguing the city during that time period—stormed the restaurant in an armed robbery attempt. Because of a bill that the governor had signed into law banning off-duty officers from carrying their weapons in private businesses, Wolf was unarmed when he interceded to thwart the robbery. He failed in his attempt and his wife and daughter died, causing the state legislature and the governor’s office to reconsider their earlier stance on the issue.

  “Authorities believe the disgruntled ex-detective attached a bomb to the undercarriage of his official police vehicle and detonated it when the governor and his assistant entered the SUV. Wolf was among the dead, and police are calling this a suicide bombing—”

  “Melvin!” I lurched forward to my hands and knees and vomited on the floor. Clear liquid sprayed from my lips, splashing onto the floor. Images flashed through my mind…images of a young, pregnant wife waiting for her husband to get home with her latest craving…of her lying in a hospital bed with no one to curse during childbirth…a young child walking to the bus stop for the first time with only one hand being held…a teenager playing football or cheerleading with an empty seat next to Mommy…

  Wave after wave spewed from my stomach. I gasped for air. My head pounded. Throat burned from the bile that spilled from my mouth. Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw Achilles pad over and begin licking the floor in front of me. I pushed at him between heaves, but he persisted
.

  “God, no! Not Melvin!” I clenched my fists and pounded the floor. My knuckles hurt at first, but soon they were as numb as my insides. I looked to the ceiling, screamed, “Why, God? Why did you do that to him? Why not me?”

  As I struggled to come to grips with Melvin’s death and calm my gut, the anchorwoman’s voice buzzed in the background. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and pulled myself to my feet. The threat on my life had been real, but I wasn’t the target—I was the patsy. I scanned the floor for my phone, then noticed the pieces strewn about and grunted.

  A picture of the governor and his family flashed up on the screen. As I stared through the haze, my cold heart wept for them. His kids were young. One had to be ten and the other couldn’t be more than six. His wife was beautiful, but in a plain and wholesome way. They looked like a happy family. He looked like a caring father and a loving husband.

  It suddenly hit me like a wrecking ball to the solar plexus—it was not his fault Michele and Abigail had been killed. His policies were a reflection of his life, his experiences. As reckless as I thought his policies were, I had to admit he had done what he thought was best for the state and for the citizens of Louisiana. His policies had nothing to do with the murders of my family—he had nothing to do with the murders. Bad people had taken advantage of his policies, but he had no way of knowing that would happen. And now bad people had left two wives—one pregnant—without husbands and three kids—one unborn—without fathers.

  I gritted my teeth. “Someone’s responsible for this, and they’ll have to pay…with their lives!”

  I ripped my dirty shirt off and started toward my bedroom when boots stomped on my front porch. I darted into my bedroom and snatched my pistol from the nightstand. I stopped in the doorway with my pistol aimed toward the front of the house. Someone pounded on the door. It shook on its hinges.

  “Clint! Wake the hell up!”

  I lowered my pistol, exhaling the lungful of air I’d been holding. It was Susan. I rushed to the door and opened it. “Did you see this shit?”

  Susan jerked her head back to look me up and down. “What happened to you?”

  I pulled her inside and slammed the door shut. “Melvin’s dead! He took my place and now he’s dead!”

  “I know. I’ve been calling you all morning.”

  I pointed to the mess on the floor. “My phone’s broken.”

  Susan frowned. “We need to get you out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Susan charged into my living room and shot her index finger toward the television. “Someone just blew up the governor and pinned it on you. When they find out they got the wrong person—and that won’t take very long—they’ll be coming here to finish the job.”

  “They won’t have to come here because I’m going to them.”

  “Them who? We have no idea who did this.”

  “Mark McNeal definitely knows something, and I’m going to find out what.” I walked into my bedroom to grab a shirt from my drawer.

  Susan stayed on my heels. “Clint, listen to me! They think you’re dead—we need to use that to our advantage.”

  I slipped on the fresh shirt, opened my gun safe, pulled out my load-bearing vest and shrugged into it. I checked the ammo pouches—six thirty-round magazines in.223 caliber. I grabbed an extra pistol and secured it into the holster attached to the front of the vest, then slung the AR-15 over my shoulder.

  “Clint, what are thinking?” Susan forced herself in front of me. She grabbed my shoulders and pulled my face close to hers. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Mark McNeal knows something, and I’m going to find out what—even if it means I have to kill him.”

  “You’re talking crazy, Clint. You’ve got to chill out.”

  “Sue, they killed Melvin…Melvin! He’d never hurt anyone. I don’t even know why he was a cop. He was too nice for this type of work.”

  “Look, I’ll go talk to Mark McNeal—find out what he knows. Get a hat and sunglasses so no one recognizes you, and I’ll take you someplace safe. We need to keep the fact you’re still breathing a secret as long as we can. Once they realize you’re alive, they will definitely come after you to finish the job.”

  “Good—then I’ll know who’s behind it.”

  “I’m not losing you, Clint Wolf!” Susan cupped my face with both of her hands, staring intently into my eyes. “For once in your stubborn life, can you trust someone other than yourself? As long as they think you’re dead, we have an advantage. Let me do some snooping around and see what I can find out. I know what I’m doing.”

  Her hands were warm. “These people are dangerous, Sue. I’m not going to let you go out there alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll get William and Jack to come with me. Besides, we’re not a danger to them. They didn’t want us dead; they wanted you dead. We’re invisible to them.”

  I stared into her eyes and began to melt in the warmth of her touch. That touch, that feeling…it was strangely familiar. I searched the recesses of my memory, desperately trying to recall where I’d experienced it. Finally, I sighed, pulling her hands away from my face. “Okay, we’ll do it your way, but if you don’t find out anything within twenty-four hours, we do it my way.”

  She nodded, then followed me into the living room. We both stopped when we heard Mayor Landry’s voice on the television.

  “It’s so hard to believe that Clint Wolf did this. I never would’ve guessed it. He seemed normal, you know? I never would’ve hired him had I known how much hate he had for the governor.”

  Mayor Landry wiped his brow, shook his head, and continued. “He insisted on being the one to pick up the governor, but I didn’t think anything of it. Now, I know why.”

  “That lying sack of shit! He’s in on it.” I spun to Susan. “I need to talk to him. You need to help me get inside the town hall so I can confront that cowardly bastard. That bastard is going to tell me what he knows even if I have to beat him to death!”

  “No way! That place is crawling with SWAT from the state police and the sheriff’s office. You wouldn’t make it across the street without being arrested or shot.”

  She was right, of course, but I didn’t like it. I looked at her standing there, fists balled up, shoved into her waist. I pushed my lips together. “Even Chloe thinks I killed the governor. Why don’t you?”

  “Because you’re still alive, you dope.”

  “Good point.” I grabbed a ball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses from my closet and walked out with Susan. Achilles tried to follow us, but I told him to stay put. “You can’t come on this adventure, little buddy. It’s too damn dangerous.” I didn’t even bother putting him in his crate. I was supposed to be dead anyway, so what did I care about a few sofa cushions?

  CHAPTER 49

  “Where are we?” I asked when we drove down a long street set back in the trees. Susan turned onto a driveway made of dirt.

  “My place.”

  “Your place?”

  Susan parked in front of a modest house, painted light green and trimmed in white. It was about a foot off the ground and a square porch was cut into the right side of the house. A yellow bench was positioned against the wall and a red punching bag hung from the center of the porch.

  Susan shoved the Charger into park and killed the engine. “Yep, it’s my little piece of paradise. You’ll be safe here.”

  “I’m safe everywhere.” I grabbed my rifle and walked down the cemented driveway behind Susan. She reached under a pot behind the bench, removed a key, and let us in.

  “Make yourself at home.” Susan tossed the key on the coffee table and waved her hand around. “What’s mine is yours. There’s food in the kitchen, the bathroom’s down the hall, and the keys to my truck are on the ring by the back door, but don’t go anywhere unless it’s an emergency.”

  I nodded, then leaned my rifle in the corner nearest the door and shrugged out of my vest. I sank onto the sofa and m
y thoughts went immediately back to Melvin and his pregnant wife. I frowned, wondering if she even knew. I posed the question to Susan.

  “I know it sucks, but we can’t tell her anything right now. We need to keep your—”

  “I get it. I get it. No one can know I’m alive. It just sucks.” I clenched my fists. “I swear to you, Susan, when I find out who did this to Melvin, I’m going to kill them.”

  “What about the governor? He’s dead, too. Would you kill them for him, too?”

  “Yeah, he is dead, isn’t he?” I sighed. “I didn’t like him or his policies, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

  Susan stripped the police radio from her belt and pointed to the channel knob. “Seven is the sheriff’s office and nine is the state police. Flip this button and it’ll scan all the channels.”

  I took it and thanked her. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got an extra one in the car.” Susan slid open a drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a cell phone, then powered it on. “This is an old throw-away phone, but it works. My number’s programmed in the contacts.”

  I examined it and found the contact section with her number. “Yours is the only number in here. What if I need to call someone else?”

  “I’m the only one who knows you’re alive, so you shouldn’t be calling anyone else. Now, I’ll head to the town hall and see what the mayor’s up to. I’ll be back around lunchtime. Follow the radio traffic and stay inside.” Before waiting for my response, Susan darted out the door and sped out of the driveway.

  I spent a restless couple of hours pacing the floors, checking the volume on the radio to make sure it was working, and surfing the channels on the large flat screen television in Susan’s living room. The police radio was silent, and the news channels were playing the same feeds as earlier, with so-called experts explaining my motivation for killing the governor.

  I suddenly remembered my mom. I snatched Susan’s phone from my pocket, but I just stared at it. I wanted to call to let her know I was still alive. Susan’s words echoed in the back of my mind, and I knew she was right, but what if the news of my supposed death was too much for my mom’s heart to handle? I started dialing her number, but stopped when I heard a noise outside.