by BJ Bourg
“What about my partner?”
“Lieutenant Bethany Riggs?”
Bethany’s eyes dropped to the phone, her brows furrowed.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “Lieutenant Bethany Riggs. Is it okay if I involve her? After all, it’s her case.”
“That’s fine—she’s cool. Bring anyone else and I’m gone. You’ll never hear from me again and you’ll be left to figure this shit out on your own. I’m already taking a big risk just calling you.”
“Can you give me some sort of hint as to what type of information you have?” I pressed. “You know, something I can feed the sheriff so I can convince him to let me—”
“Not a word to anyone!” the man said in a forceful voice that drew an odd look from Captain Theriot. There was a brief pause and then the man continued in his muffled voice, “I have contacts within the department”—this drew curious glances from all in the room—“and I have a police scanner. If I find out you told a single soul or if I hear a peep on the scanner, I’m gone.”
I became more suspicious. “If you’re so scared, why go through all this trouble? Why not just tell me what you need to tell me and let me go do my job?”
“I have original documents that will prove why this is happening and it will name the sniper’s next targets. These documents can not fall into the wrong hands. They’re the only proof of what really happened that night.”
“What night? And where’d you get these documents?” I asked, hoping the mystery caller would keep talking, but sensing that his reluctance was growing.
“Just meet me at the park and don’t be late.”
Click!
The line went dead, and the room was draped in silence. I checked the clock on the wall. Nine-fifteen AM. We had nearly thirteen hours to find out as much as we could about this caller.
“Listen up, gang,” Sheriff Burke barked. “I don’t give a shit who asks—no one outside of this room will know about this conversation. Got it?”
There were nods all around the table.
“Melvin,” Bethany said, “can you get to communications ASAP and find out as much as you can about the number this guy called from?”
“Sure.” Melvin gathered up his stuff and stood.
“I’ll be on the road,” Gina said. She was still avoiding eye contact with me. “Call me if y’all need anything.”
“You know,” Captain Theriot said, addressing me, “when he snapped at you, he lost his disguise and his true voice came through a bit. He sounded familiar.”
“Familiar how?” I asked.
Theriot shook his head. “I’m not sure where I know the voice from, but it sounded vaguely familiar. I’ll have to think about it. The call wasn’t recorded, was it?”
“No,” Sheriff Burke said. “None of the lines in here are recorded.”
As we talked, Captain Carmella Vizier walked in. “Sheriff, the newspaper’s going to put out an ad asking anyone with information about snipers to call our hotline.”
As they continued talking, I moved to where Bethany stood. “You ready, LT? We have to hit the road, too. I want to get a few things done before tonight.”
“Wait a minute,” Sheriff Burke called. “Aren’t we going to get a team together to provide over-watch protection?”
“You heard the man,” Bethany said. “If we bring company, he’s gone, and we might never find out what’s going on.”
Sheriff Burke traded glances with Chief Garcia and Captain Theriot and then sighed. “Okay, but I want to know when y’all are leaving and I want to know as soon as y’all have the document. Call me on my cell. Oh, and London…”
I looked up. “Yes, Sheriff?”
He pulled me to a corner of the room out of earshot of everyone else. “Bring the document straight to me. I don’t want anyone looking at it.”
I nodded, and Bethany and I left the office and headed for my place. She drove.
CHAPTER 25
After she parked in my driveway, Bethany followed me to the doorway. I stopped to unlock it.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
I pushed the door open and stepped back for her to enter. “I have to get some things together.”
“What things?”
“You’ll see.”
We walked into my living room, and I selected a silver key from my key ring and went to my gun closet. The door was constructed of reinforced steel and it was always padlocked shut. I unlocked it and pulled open the door. Bethany whistled. “Damn, you’ve got a lot of guns!”
I pulled my backup sniper rifle from the wooden pegs on the wall and slung it over my shoulder. I grabbed a ballistic vest from another peg and tossed it to Bethany. “You’ll be needing this.”
“For what?”
“I want you wearing it tonight…just in case.”
She hoisted it in her hand. “This is heavier than my vest.”
“This one’s made to withstand rifle rounds…three-o-eight rifle rounds.”
She frowned. “It wouldn’t do me any good since he makes headshots.”
Bethany was right, of course, but it made me feel better knowing she had some sort of protection. “I can get you a ballistic helmet if you want.”
“No, I don’t do hats.” She nodded to the rifle across my back. “What’s that for?”
“I’m going to set up on the top of the Payneville Bridge and you’re going to meet our mystery man at the gazebo. That way I’ll be able to keep an eye on your surroundings and keep an eye on our contact. If he even sneezes while he’s in your presence, I’ll drop him.” I grabbed a three-ring binder from a shelf in my closet and thumbed through the book until I found what I was looking for.
“What’s in that binder?”
“Over the past few months I’ve gone to a bunch of high points in the parish and ranged the surrounding area. I started in the southern part of the parish and began working my way north, visiting every bridge, hospital and building over three stories high, and—lucky for us—the last place I ranged was the Payneville Bridge. I hope to get the entire parish done before the end of the year.” I flipped it shut and returned it to the shelf, shut the door and locked it. “It’s five hundred twenty-eight yards from the bridge to the gazebo. We’ll stop at the rifle range on the way out so I can zero my rifle. The last time I shot this rifle was last winter and it was about sixty degrees.”
Bethany chewed her lower lip as she watched me gather up my gear. “I don’t know about this. I think I’d feel more comfortable if you came with me.”
“You’ll be fine. I can do a better job of watching you from the bridge than I can from right beside you. In fact, you’ll be safer in that gazebo than the sheriff will be in the main office.”
“If you say so.”
I turned to her and touched her face, kissed her gently on the lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
Bethany moved in for another kiss, and I couldn’t resist. When she pulled back, her eyes were half closed. “I could get used to this,” she murmured.
“Me, too.” I reluctantly pulled away and set my rifle down on the couch, along with some ammunition and two sets of ear mikes for our cell phones. “Let’s get this into the car, then go grab something to eat while we have a minute and then we’ll head to the range.”
* * *
After we took our time devouring a couple of fried shrimp po-boys, French fries and drinks at Bill’s Seafood, we strolled out into the bright sunlight and pulled ourselves into Bethany’s car. We then proceeded to the shooting range. As we drove into the shell parking lot near the rifle range, I was surprised to see a car parked there and a figure standing directly above a rifle grounded on the firing line. The shooter was wearing drab green coveralls and a matching cap.
“Who’s that?” Bethany asked.
“Not sure.” I stepped out and strained to see downrange. There were five little white dots set out on a narrow platform at the three-hundred-yard line. Suddenly, the shooter dropped pr
one behind the rifle and snapped off five rounds in rapid succession. I was impressed by how smoothly the shooter manipulated the bolt. With each thunderous shot, a white dot exploded into the air, sending a yellow mist cascading toward the backstop. I nodded my understanding. The targets were chicken eggs.
When the last echo of the last shot had faded into the warm afternoon air, the shooter stood and turned. She stopped when she saw us approaching. “What are y’all doing here?” Gina Pellegrin demanded.
I pointed to the sniper rifle on the ground. “Where’d you get that? And where’d you learn how to shoot? You’re pretty damn good!”
I saw the anger lines in Gina’s face relax. She tried to stifle a grin. “My dad bought it for me last Christmas.”
“Where’d you learn to shoot?” I pressed.
“I pay attention when you talk and I come out here during my lunch hour a few times a week.”
“But…why?” I asked.
“I mentioned to the other snipers that I wanted to be the first female sniper ever in Magnolia Parish,” she said a little bashfully, “and they all laughed at me. They said women can’t be snipers.”
“That’s bullshit!” I said. “I’ve met three female snipers over the years who were every bit as good as their male counterparts. Keep shooting like that and you’ll be blowing Jerry and them away at training.”
“No kidding.” Bethany nodded her agreement. “That was super impressive! Way to represent!”
“What do you mean by ‘at training’?” Gina asked.
“There’s no need for you to shoot in the dark anymore,” I said. “It’s time for you to come out of the closet and show off your stuff.”
I walked to Bethany’s car to retrieve my rifle, and Gina followed. She was beaming. “Hey, London, can I talk to you real quick?”
“Sure,” I called over my shoulder as I pushed the button to open the trunk. I swung it open and reached for my rifle.
“I just want to say I’m sorry about this morning.” Gina was staring down at her hands. “I guess I just got a little…um, a little jealous.”
I froze, then turned slowly. “Jealous? Why on earth would you be jealous?”
Gina’s freckled cheeks were red. “I don’t know. I guess I…”
“What? You guess you what?”
“It’s not easy to say.”
“Just blurt it out.”
Gina took a deep breath, blew it out. “Okay, I guess I have…”
“Have what?”
“I was just surprised to see Bethany at your house.”
“I didn’t know I had to check in with you,” I joked.
“Well, now that you know, we shouldn’t have this problem again.” Gina smiled. “Seriously, I just wanted to apologize for the way I reacted and to make sure we’re still cool.”
“We’re still cool.” I gave her a half-hug and grabbed my rifle and a box of bullets to walk toward the firing line where Bethany was waiting for me.
CHAPTER 26
It was fifteen minutes to ten and we were approaching the Payneville Bridge along Highway Three.
“Slow down to about five miles per hour when you pass the service station,” I told Bethany. My rifle was in my left hand and my right hand was on the door handle. “I’ll jump out and make my way to the top of the bridge. Cross over it and take a left down Allard Street, go down—”
“To Main Court and take a left until I reach River Road. Park right alongside the gazebo…I got it.” Bethany grabbed my knee and squeezed. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re completely safe.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Rick’s Service Station was coming into view. I turned to Bethany to offer last minute instructions. “Remember to turn your headlights off before you step out and don’t silhouette yourself against the night sky. If you hear even a bump, drop to the ground and take cover, and whatever you do, don’t leave the gazebo.”
“Damn, you’ve suddenly turned into quite a worrywart. What happened to the London Carter who didn’t give a shit about anything?”
“I’m just being selfish,” I said, poised to jump out.
“Selfish? What do you mean?” As she spoke, Bethany slowed to a roll.
I pushed open the door and leapt to the ground—running forward to keep my footing—and called out, “If something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t get to spend more time under the sheets with your beautiful ass.”
Before she could reply, I slammed the door shut and, crouching low, sprinted across the highway and up the slight ramp to the western side of the vertical lift bridge, holding my sniper rifle close to my chest. When I reached the rusted stairway that extended up toward the top of the bridge, I slung my rifle over my shoulder, palmed my pistol and began the long ascent. I quickly and silently scaled the three flights of steps. A few cars whizzed across the metal grating beneath me, causing the bridge to rattle and shake under the weight, and it helped to mask any sounds I might have made. As I neared the landing, I began to inch my way onward—my pistol muzzle leading the way—until I could see over the landing.
When I was certain the catwalk was clear in both directions and that the killer had not taken a position up there, I strode across it until I reached a point where I had a clear view of the gazebo and the surrounding area. I holstered my pistol and shrugged my rifle off my shoulder. I snapped out the legs of my bipod and dropped to the floor of the catwalk, settling in behind my rifle. I carefully scanned the entire area, searching first for other sniper positions that might conceal our killer, and then for any movement that might indicate the approach of our mystery caller.
There was no movement along River Road. The lights glowed from the windows of only a few houses that lined the southern side of the street. I rotated my scope to the left and scanned the length of the bayou—no boat traffic whatsoever. Everything was quiet. A flicker of light caught my eye at the right of my scope and I turned my attention to that area. Headlights bobbled from Main Court and grew brighter as they approached River Road. When the side of the vehicle came into full view, I recognized Bethany’s car. It turned the corner, traveled in my direction, slowed to a stop beside the gazebo. The headlights were blinding, and I couldn’t see beyond her car.
I reached for the redial button on my cell phone and pressed it. Bethany’s phone rang loudly into my left ear and she picked up on the second ring. “Hey, do you see anything?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Turn out your headlights. They’re blinding me.”
“Oh, sorry!”
The area immediately went dark, but my night vision had been washed. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them a few times, trying to get my night vision back as fast as I could. “What time is it?” I asked.
“Three minutes ’til,” Bethany’s voice called in my ear. “Should I get out now?”
As my eyes readjusted to the night and the objects around Bethany’s car slowly came back into clear view, I called out, “Ten-four.”
Bethany cautiously opened her door and walked to the gazebo. She cast a nervous glance over each shoulder as she walked. She positioned herself at the eastern end of the gazebo—directly across from me—and stood with her back to one of the wooden columns. “I’m in place,” she whispered.
“I’ve got you. Can you hear or see anything at all from where you are?”
“Not a peep.”
I swept the area again with my scope. The park was empty and so was the adjacent boat launch. As I scanned the park again, I saw a dark figure near a swing set—it hadn’t been there a second ago—and it moved. I pulled my scope to a stop and focused on the figure. It was about four hundred yards out. It darted across a small clearing and disappeared behind a tree…it didn’t come out the other end. I watched and waited.
“Beth, I’ve got movement at your three o’clock position. He’s directly in front of that oak tree south of the swing sets.”
“My side of the tree or your side?”
“Your side.”
“I think I see it. Do you want me to go out to him?”
“Negative. Stay put.” I quickly tracked to the left. He had come from that direction. There was a patch of grass, the swing set, a sidewalk and then the bayou. I was about to check the edge of the bayou to see if I could find a boat, when I saw it in the upper portion of my scope. There, several yards west of the swing set and slumped on the white sidewalk was a dark humanlike figure. Although it was in the shadows of the surrounding trees, there was no mistaking the pool of dark liquid that surrounded the figure on the cement—
“He’s moving again,” Bethany called. “Should I get his attention?”
“Negative! There’s a subject down!” I whipped my scope back toward where I’d last seen the subject. He was now disappearing behind a large fountain. I watched, but he didn’t come out the other side. “Bethany, do you see him?” I tried to keep my voice calm.
“Ten-four,” she whispered into her phone. “He’s heading straight for me. He’s about twenty feet away. Hey! Sheriff’s office! Show me your hands!”
A bright beam of light shot out from Bethany’s location—her flashlight—and stabbed the darkness in front of her and right into my scope, blinding me.
“Oh shit!” Bethany cried loudly into my ear. Her voice was cut off by two explosive gunshots. Her flashlight fell to the ground, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark figure disappearing behind her car. Before I could place my crosshairs on his back, he was beyond the car and disappeared around the corner of the street. I jerked my scope back to Bethany’s location.
CHAPTER 27
“Bethany!” I screamed into the phone. “Are you okay?”
Silence.
“Bethany, come in. Are you okay?”
“Ten-four, I’m okay,” she screamed, scrambling to her feet. She snatched up her flashlight and darted toward her car. “That asshole shot at me!”
