Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy: Boxed Set

by BJ Bourg

  “How’d you find the jurors?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  William shot his head toward my desk. “You leave your password in the bottom drawer—we all know it. I didn’t want anything traced back to me, so I got on your computer when you weren’t around.” He mumbled an apology and said something about feeling bad because I’d always been good to him. “I just figured if anyone checked they’d think you looked up the names as part of the investigation.”

  “Did your mom know about this?” Susan asked. “Is she involved?”

  “She’s not involved, but I think she suspected something was wrong when she heard the names of the victims and found out they were killed with red arrows. She remembered every one of those jurors. She hated them, too. When I was growing up, she’d point them out in public and tell me they were the ones who let Gregg out so he could hurt her again.” William sighed. “I never forgot them and never forgot about what Gregg did to me. Hell, I couldn’t forget—she wouldn’t let me. Every time she’d point them out, I’d relive that night.”

  “So, that was your target in the back yard?” I asked.

  He nodded. “My dad taught me how to shoot when I was small. We’d spend hours in that back yard, shooting until our forearms were bruised and our fingers bleeding. I still go there to practice, because it makes me feel close to him.” William stared off. “Life was great when he was alive. If he would’ve never died…”

  “She has to be involved,” I pressed. “She’s the one who told you where to find Gregg Daniels.”

  “But she didn’t know I would kill him. She just told me she’d delivered a letter to him and she told me to stay away from that side of town. She didn’t know what he did to me and she didn’t think I’d go after him.”

  I was quiet and Susan asked him why he’d waited so long to start killing jurors. He said he never planned on going after the jurors, but when Daniels’ death didn’t provide the closure he thought it would, he figured it was because the job wasn’t finished—the mission was incomplete. “I felt like the only way I could get my life back and become whole again was to kill everyone responsible.”

  “How’d you get Daniels’ DNA on the arrows?” I wanted to know.

  “That was easy.” William grinned, almost proud of himself. “I just rubbed the nock end of the arrows against the inside of his cheeks, like we do with buccal swabs. I kept the bodies cold, knowing it would slow the rate of decomposition, making it difficult for y’all to determine the time of death—if y’all ever found him.” William’s grin faded and he shook his head. “It was the perfect plan, but y’all found him way too soon and ruined everything.”

  I looked up when I saw Melvin approaching at a slow walk with his fists clenched. “So, in your twisted little mind, you blame all those people for what happened to you and that’s great. But why did you shoot Susan? Why would you do that? You’re supposed to be our brother. We’re family! We don’t attack each other, no matter what!” I quickly moved between Melvin and William, afraid Melvin would start beating him.

  Tears were flowing freely down William’s face now and he was bawling. “That’s the one thing I feel the most guilty about,” he said through sobs. “I’m so sorry, Susan! I didn’t know what to do. They all needed to pay for what they did to me and I couldn’t let you stop me before the mission was completed. I thought you were wearing your vest, so I aimed for your trauma plate, thinking you’d be fine and it would only buy me some time to escape.” He turned his red face toward her. “I swear, if I would’ve finished making everyone pay, I would’ve let you kill me before turning my bow on you.”

  Susan frowned. “I can’t explain it, William, but I’m not even mad at you. I feel sorry for you.”

  When we were done talking to William, I moved him to the holding cell reserved for male prisoners, where he would stay until the prison van picked him up and transported him to the hospital. I then set about releasing his mom. She begged to speak with William and I let them talk for about ten minutes. When she was gone, Susan and I searched William’s Charger and found his ghillie suit, a compound bow, and six arrows wrapped in plastic. We also found the keys to the Thunderbird hidden under the spare tire wrapped in a latex glove, right where he said they were. He said he didn’t have time to hide the evidence after killing Drake Alan, because I had called him into the office.

  Once Susan and I had packaged everything in the evidence lockers, we met with Melvin and Amy in the conference room. A pot of coffee was on the table and they’d each had a cup, so Susan and I poured one for ourselves. The liquid was hot and strong.

  Melvin scratched his bare head. “Chief, how’d you know it was William?”

  I explained how the old newspaper article mentioned Sandra’s babysitter, which told me she had a child. “When we searched her house, we found a picture of William—well, a million pictures of William—in her living room. One of the pictures was of him shooting a bow with his real dad, Spencer Tucker.”

  “I still can’t believe I’ve been working with a killer all these nights,” Amy said, shivering. “Do you know how many times I’ve turned my back to him, trusting he would cover me? He could’ve taken me out at any time.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve been friends for years,” Melvin said. “He doesn’t look like a murderer.”

  “Do they ever?” I asked.

  CHAPTER 56

  One week later…

  The sun was setting in my back yard on the first Monday after William’s arrest and I still couldn’t shake the feeling I’d gotten when I found out he was the killer. Susan and I had talked about it often in the past week, but we couldn’t put it to rest. William was one of our own. If he could betray us, anyone could.

  Chloe was trying to wrestle a toy away from Achilles, but he wasn’t having any of it. He jerked it from her grasp and raced off, taking a victory lap around the yard. Chloe approached me at a stumbling jog and plopped down on the steps. “He’s got a lot of energy!”

  I flipped the chicken on the grill for the last time and joined Chloe on the steps, smiling as I watched Achilles finish his lap and drop the toy at her feet, begging her to pick it up again. She rubbed his face and told him she was too tired to play anymore, but he pretended not to understand. He dropped to the ground, his face in his paws, and made a motion like he was going for the toy, but stopped. When Chloe didn’t respond to his teasing, he grabbed the toy and bolted off, stopping a few feet away to see if she’d given chase. When he saw that she hadn’t, he dropped the toy and ambled toward a shady spot in the yard and lay on his side, panting.

  “He’s such a beautiful dog,” Chloe said.

  I agreed with her and put my arm around her shoulders. “And you’re such a beautiful girl.”

  She snuggled against me and smiled. “I love it when you say things like that.”

  “I love it when—”

  A sharp ringing sound interrupted my sentence. I’d been expecting a call from Jennifer Duval to update me on the status of the Parker case, and I hoped that it was her. I jumped to my feet and rushed into the house.

  “Wait,” Chloe called, trying to catch up with me. “Finish what you were saying.”

  I snatched up my phone and looked at the display screen. It was Jennifer. I swiped the screen and pushed the phone to my ear, asking her what was up.

  “It’s not good, Clint.”

  “What is it?”

  “I spoke with the assistant handling the case and he said the Parker brothers are set to be released in two weeks if they can’t come up with more evidence.”

  “What?” I leaned against the counter, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me. “Released? How can the DA’s office just release them? They murdered Michele and Abigail!”

  “I know,” Jennifer said, “but they said the case is purely circumstantial and they don’t feel they can win. He said he’d rather let them out now and wait for more evidence, rather than trying them on a weak case and losing. You know y
ourself if that happens they can never be tried again because of double jeopardy.”

  I knew she was right, but I didn’t like hearing it. Numb, I told her goodbye and ended the call. Before I could put my phone down it rang again. I absently put it to my ear and said, “This is Clint.”

  “Chief, you need to get here quick!” It was Melvin and he was so excited he was stumbling over his words.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Susan—she just got arrested.”

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Two sheriff’s deputies just took her into custody. They got a call from Bill Hedd saying the grand jury had indicted her for murder and she was to be taken into custody immediately and...”

  I didn’t hear the rest, because I snatched up my keys and sprinted for the door, leaving Chloe and Achilles wondering what was going on.

  Book Three:

  BUT NOT FORSAKEN

  CHAPTER 1

  20 years earlier…

  Monday, July 24

  Chateau Parish, Louisiana

  Jolene giggled as she crawled from the back of her white 1995 Escalade and dropped her bare feet to the ground. Although it was nearly ten o’clock in the evening, the dirt was still warm from the heat of the day.

  “Get back in here,” her boyfriend called, reaching for her arm, but missing.

  Screeching, Jolene hurried around to the front of the SUV, where the headlights lit up the cane fields in front of them. She stopped in the direct glow of the lights and smiled coyly. Lifting her arms to the sky, she stood with her eyes closed, allowing the light to wash across her pale body. She made no attempt to cover her breasts or her genital area. “God, you make me feel so free!”

  She screeched again when she heard her boyfriend running toward her. She opened her eyes just in time to see him wrap his arms around her nude body and gently tackle her to the ground. They fell into a patch of soft grass and her laughter was cut short by his strong mouth on hers. She moaned as they kissed. When their lips separated, she looked up into his troubled eyes. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  He frowned, rolled off of her, and sat on the ground to her right. “It’s nothing.”

  Jolene recognized that look. “It is something. I can tell.” She sat up and leaned her soft breasts against his hard back, her mouth brushing the back of his ear. “You promised to never keep anything from me.”

  He sighed. “I know. It’s just that…”

  She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. “What is it, sweetie?”

  “I hate that you’re married.”

  “I hate it, too.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. “If I can help it, I won’t be married for long.”

  He pulled her arms away and stood. “That’s what you said two months ago.”

  “Well, these things take time. Divorces are never easy, you know.” She pulled herself to her feet and returned to the back of the Escalade. While her boyfriend sulked, she began pulling on her clothes. “I have to get back home.”

  “The bastard’s at a conference—why do you need to hurry home?” He scowled. “You’re always running off, even when he’s not around. Sometimes I think you’ve got a number two on the side.”

  Jolene clipped her black bra in place and turned to face him, pulling at her breasts to make them comfortable in the cups. “After all we’ve been through I can’t believe you’d even suggest that. You know I love you.”

  He was thoughtful, but said nothing. Jolene stepped forward and hugged him, repeating that she loved him. He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. But why do you have to leave? I thought we’d be able to spend all kinds of time together when he was gone.”

  “Knowing him, he’ll call the house to make sure I’m home.” She shrugged into her red camisole and slipped her sandals on. “And if I don’t answer, he’ll have someone drive by the house to check on me.”

  Her boyfriend’s shoulders drooped, but he nodded his understanding. “Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  She smiled. “Of course, you will.” After kissing him one last time, she jumped into the Escalade and waved as he entered his pickup truck. As was their custom, he followed her along the bumpy cane field road and then most of the way home to be sure she made it safely. He flashed his headlights when he reached the bridge that marked his turnoff, and she responded with two taps of the brake. She smiled as she watched him wave his arm out of the truck. It was nice to have someone want her so much. All her husband cared about was his career and his image. He wanted the perfect house, the perfect cars, the perfect wife, the perfect family. She grunted. It would be a cold summer day in Louisiana before she gave him a child.

  When Jolene got home thirty minutes later, she hurried up the sidewalk and rushed through the front door, checking the telephone to see if her husband had called. She sighed when there were no missed calls. She’d spoken with him right before she left to meet her boyfriend and had told him she was going into the shower. That would’ve bought her at least an hour and a half—he knew how she loved long baths.

  Jolene glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven now. Her husband probably thought she was in bed and wouldn’t bother her again tonight.

  Still feeling weak from the orgasm she’d had earlier, she kicked off her shoes and walked on shaky legs to her bedroom. The blue plush carpet felt good on the bottoms of her feet. The bedroom was dark except for a night light in a corner outlet. Squinting to see better, she grabbed a set of night clothes from the top drawer in her mahogany dresser and placed them on the counter in the master bathroom. After lighting two candles and turning on the faucet in the Jacuzzi tub, she unbuttoned her jeans and started to push them—

  “What the hell was that?” Jolene froze in place, trying to place the noise. It sounded as though something had fallen and she thought it came from the kitchen, but she couldn’t be sure. Buttoning her jeans back, she took a cautious step toward her bedroom door and listened. Nothing. The hallway light was off, too. Should I turn it on? She decided against it. She was no tactical expert, but she was smart enough to know a light would only give away her location. Moving on the balls of her feet, she slowly made her way toward the end of the hall. She stopped a few feet from where it opened into the kitchen and waited. Still nothing.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Not knowing what to expect, she peeked around the wall and stared wide-eyed. She sighed when she realized the kitchen was empty. The refrigerator blocked her view of the back door, so she stepped into the kitchen just to make sure the knob was locked. As she rounded the corner, she stepped on something sharp.

  “Ouch!” She leaned on the counter and lifted her foot. There was a small shard of glass protruding from a spot on her heel and a single drop of blood spilled from it. Pulling the piece of glass from her foot, she glanced at the floor and her heart stopped beating for a moment—broken glass littered the floor.

  Jolene’s eyes shot toward the door and she gasped when she saw that the window pane closest to the knob was busted. But that was nothing compared to the sheer terror that shocked her to her core when she saw a gloved hand reach through the broken window and grab the doorknob.

  She smothered a scream in her throat and bolted for the bedroom, panic enveloping her every fiber. She had almost made it to the master bathroom door when something smacked her in back of the head and she collapsed on the carpeted floor. Her head pounded, but she pulled herself to her hands and knees and started crawling like a woman possessed, her fingernails clawing at the carpet. Diving forward the last few feet, she cleared the bathroom door and rolled to her back to kick it shut. Just before it slammed shut, she saw a shadowy figure reaching for the knob.

  Jolene screamed and scrambled to her feet. With shaky hands, she desperately tried to twist the lock on the knob, but it was no use. The figure turned it and crashed it open, sending her flying backward. She landed hard against the side of the tub, and one of the candles sizzled out as it plopped into the
bath water.

  Her attacker stepped through the doorway and grabbed her ankles in a vice-like grip. She twisted onto her stomach and clutched at the ledge of the tub, but the person jerked her away and dragged her on her belly toward the bedroom. Her camisole rolled up high on her stomach as the attacker dragged her across the carpeted floor. When they reached the center of the dark bedroom, the person flipped her onto her back and straddled her. Her attacker’s weight made it difficult for her to breathe and the face was covered by a makeshift mask and there was a large knife in the person’s hand. Light from the one remaining candle glinted eerily off the blade. Tears flowed freely down her face now and she was trembling uncontrollably.

  “Why? Oh, God! Why are you doing this?” she cried, trying to push her camisole down. “Please don’t hurt me!”

  Her attacker was breathing heavy and stared down at her. Setting the knife down on the floor, her attacker wrapped both hands around her throat and slowly applied pressure, as though enjoying the moment.

  “No!” Jolene screamed, pushing at the person’s hands. “Don’t! Please don’t!”

  The attacker continued to squeeze and she felt her eyes bulge in their sockets as pressure filled her face. She kicked and squirmed, clawing at the gloved hands as best she could. Suddenly, her attacker drew a fist back and slammed it into her breast. She cried out in pain, but continued struggling to stop the person from choking her. The attacker struck her again, this time in the stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. She gasped for air, pawing weakly at the sleeve on the person’s shirt. “No,” she wailed, tears causing her eyes to blur. “Please don’t hurt me!”

  The attacker returned to choking her and, in one desperate attempt to save herself, she leaned forward and punched the person on the side of the head. She immediately regretted it, because her hand stung and it only seemed to anger the person. Releasing the hold on her throat, the attacker leaned up and dropped one knee on her chest, crushing her. The attacker then grabbed a handful of hair with one hand and wrenched her head against a leg, exposing the opposite side of her neck. Groaning in anger, the attacker snatched up the knife with the opposite hand and placed the sharp point against the outside of her larynx.