by BJ Bourg
“Chief, are you sure you’re okay?” Chloe’s voice brought me back to the there and then near the tree. I stared down at her staring up at me. She smiled, nodding. “It’s okay to take a little time out every now and then. I do it often. Some of the stories I cover are gut-wrenching, and it’s very saddening. But your work—I can’t imagine how stressful and emotionally draining it is.” She pointed toward the spot where I’d been sitting. “I’ll sit with you if you like. I’m a good listener.”
“Thanks, but I have to get back to work.” I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there. The paramedics had already loaded Dexter into the ambulance and they sped off, heading for the nearest hospital twenty miles away.
Susan saw me walking toward her and met me halfway. “Hey, Clint, I wondered where you’d disappeared to.” Her gaze shifted to a point somewhere behind me and her lips became thin lines. “What were you two doing over by that tree?”
I looked over my shoulder. Chloe was still standing where I’d left her. I turned back to Susan, shrugged. “I needed to clear my head. She just walked over to see if I was okay.”
Susan grunted. We walked to the airboat and met with William and Melvin, who were talking softly about Dexter. I slapped Melvin’s back. “Good job! How’d you find him?”
“I was traveling the perimeter of the lake near where I found you. I noticed the marsh grass was smashed and there were large ruts in the mud where I picked you up. So, I continued riding the banks and found track marks where you must’ve gone into the marsh last night.” Melvin shrugged. “For some reason, I decided to keep traveling the edges looking for tracks and found some that were made by Dexter Boudreaux.”
“How’d you know they were Dexter’s tracks?” asked Susan.
“I didn’t. They were just the only other tracks along the lake. I parked the airboat and started following them.” Melvin shook his head. “I don’t know how he did it, but that old man crawled about half a mile in that condition. I’m not sure when he passed out, but he was unconscious when I found him.”
I stared at the orange glow to the west that marked the sunset. “Where’d you think he was going? Or do you think he even knew where he was?”
“He knew,” William said. “My dad told me once how Dexter got into a boating accident in the middle of the night with no lights and no stars to guide his way, but he made it across the swamps with nothing but his instincts to guide him.”
“That’s impressive,” Susan said. “Nowadays, kids can’t find the mall without a GPS navigational system.”
We all nodded our agreement.
Susan turned to William. “How’d you find out about it?”
“I called him,” Melvin said. “My radio was fading in and out when I found Dexter, so I hurried and called him on my cell.”
“Yeah,” William agreed. “I didn’t even get dressed for work. I headed straight for the office.”
“You can head home now if you want to get ready for work,” I offered. “I’ll hang around the office until you get back.”
William nodded his goodbyes and left.
“Another thing, Chief,” Melvin said. “I found a tiny oil slick where the boat went down. If you want, I can redirect the divers to that location tomorrow and see if we can’t recover your guns and the boat.”
I thought about correcting him for calling me Chief, but didn’t. “Are the divers already gone for the day?”
Melvin nodded. “The longest they’ll stay underwater in that depth is two hours. They said they’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
“Okay. Why don’t you turn in for the night? You’ve got to be tired.” I paused, then said, “You did a great job, Melvin. You definitely saved Dexter’s life.”
“If he lives,” Melvin said softly.
I couldn’t argue and I wasn’t about to make any promises. So, all I said was, “Get out of here and get some rest.”
Melvin walked away, but called over his shoulder before he was out of earshot, “Welcome to Mechant Loup!”
“Thanks. It was a hell of a first couple of days.”
When we were all alone, Susan stood there staring at the ground, quiet.
“What’s up with you?” I asked.
“Well, I saw you back there…in the airboat. When you first looked at Dexter.”
“What about it?”
Susan looked up at me, and I thought I saw her dark eyes glisten. “Are you okay to be doing this again? So soon after?”
I looked away, not sure how to answer. One thing was certain—I didn’t want to talk about it. I finally said, “It’s been almost two years. It’s time I got back to doing the one thing I’m good at.”
I guess she sensed my sour mood because she lightened up the conversation. “You mean there’s no future for you in the cabinet-making business?”
“None at all.” I glanced sideways at her. “Ready to get back to the office so you can head home?”
She nodded and ambled toward the Charger. I scanned the parking lot before following her. It was nearly empty, except for a few trucks, a red car, and a news van. I caught movement near the red car. Even from that distance and in the waning light, I recognized it to be Chloe. She was placing some things in the passenger’s seat and then moved around to the driver’s side. Before getting inside, she turned and looked in my direction. It was too far and shadowy to tell if she was looking directly at me, but I felt a tinge of excitement all the same. What was it about her that made me—
“Are you coming? Or do you plan on sleeping out here tonight?”
CHAPTER 12
When Susan and I arrived back at the police department, we found Lieutenant Jack Jackson sitting in my office with his feet up on my desk. He didn’t bother moving when we walked in, and I didn’t complain. I took a seat in one of the spare chairs, but that didn’t sit right with Susan. She stomped around my desk and glared down at Jack, hands on her hips. “Get the hell out of his chair! He’s our chief now, and you’re going to accept that and respect him!”
“Susan,” I said, “it’s okay. If I wanted him out of my chair, I’d grab him by the throat and drag him out of it.”
Jack’s gaze jerked up from the file in his lap and he stared at me with cold, dark eyes. “What did you say?”
“Jack, you heard what I said. You’re asking that question so you can buy time to think of your next move.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry about that. Your next move will be to tell me you did a good job figuring out whose arm we found floating in the lake.”
I could tell Jack was confused and didn’t know what to do next. He tried to hold my stare, but his eyes shifted, and he glanced away. Finally, he dropped his feet to the ground and handed me the file he had been studying. “We got a hit on the prints.”
“Good work.” I took the file and read the name out loud. “Hays Cain. Do either of you know this man?”
“Everyone knows him,” Susan said, still glaring down at Jack. “Hays owns a chain of restaurants throughout the south. In fact, you ate one of his hamburgers earlier today.”
I scowled. “And no one reported him missing?”
“No,” Jack said. “When I got back here, Lindsey told me she’d called every sheriff’s office south of I-10 and every city and town within fifty miles, but no one’s reported a white male missing.”
I flipped through the file and found some family history, along with his last known address. “Is he still married to Pauline?”
Susan nodded. “And they still live at the end of Kate Drive in a mansion surrounded by dozens of acres of pristine land.”
“Does his son still live with them, too?”
“No,” Jack said. “Allen was killed while serving in the national guard.”
“When was he killed?” I asked.
“A couple of years ago,” Jack said.
“Should we notify Pauline Cain?” Susan wanted to know.
“Yeah, we have to let her know what’s going on.” I close
d the file, looked over at Jack. “I’ll go make the notification and then turn in for the night. I’ll relieve you in the morning.”
“I’m coming with you,” Susan said.
“Good—you’re driving.”
* * *
When Susan turned down Kate Drive, I whistled. Palm trees and lampposts lined both sides of the mostly bare street. It was bright like the day. The end of the street opened into a large cul-de-sac with an enormous waterfall at its center. The mansion that sprouted from the ground looked out of place in the quaint town of Mechant Loup. “Was this necessary?”
“What’s that?” Susan asked.
I pointed. “This house. Did he have to build something so enormous? He could fit a dozen small families in there. It looks like a five-star hotel.”
“He’s a bit of a showoff.” Susan parked in front of a large double gate and pressed the call button.
“Can I assist you?” asked a smooth male voice after a short wait.
“Sergeant Susan Wilson and Chief Clint Wolf here to see Mrs. Cain.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“It’s an emergency.”
“Let me see if Ms. Pauline will agree to see you.”
Susan turned to me. “If he doesn’t open that damn gate, I’m crashing right through it.”
“He’ll open it.”
As though on cue, a buzzer sounded and both gates eased open in front of us. Susan didn’t wait for it to open completely. As soon as she could squeeze through she did and sped up the cobblestone drive to the front of the house. We both stepped out of the car and were met instantly by a well-groomed man wearing a black tuxedo.
“Please, follow me,” the man said.
We did, and he led us up a flight of stone steps and through a set of heavy wooden doors that had to be ten feet tall. We found ourselves in a foyer nearly the size of the police department. A large gold chandelier hung above us, and an entire living room set occupied the foyer. The man pointed to a white leather couch to our right. “If you would wait there, Ms. Pauline will be with you shortly.”
Susan and I took a seat, sinking deep into the soft cushion. She slapped the arm of the sofa. “I think your first official act as chief should be to get a sofa like this for the office.”
I nodded, figuring Pauline had to get dressed. I was sure she hadn’t been expecting company at this late hour. As we waited, I wondered why we hadn’t received a missing person’s report from Pauline Cain. That arm had been in the water at least three days, so why hadn’t anyone noticed he was gone?
After a short wait, a woman appeared atop the twin set of spiral staircases at the end of the foyer. She wore a flowing silk nightgown that was open way too low in the front and had a slit up the leg that exposed entirely too much skin. She smiled as she descended the stairs. Her jet-black hair seemed to float on the air behind her. “Good evening, officers.”
I heard Susan groan to herself as we both stood. I tried to keep my eyes focused on Pauline’s face, but something in her left hand caught my attention—a wine glass. And it was nearly empty. She extended her right hand when she reached the landing. “How can I help you guys?”
I cleared my throat. “Ma’am, when was the last time you saw your husband?”
Pauline’s smile faded. She looked from me to Susan and then back at me. “Is there a problem?”
“Ma’am, I’m afraid we have some bad news…”
“What is it?” Her eyes were wide. “Tell me!”
“Mrs. Cain, we found some remains in Lake Berg.”
“Remains? What do you mean?”
“We found an arm—your husband’s arm. We don’t know your husband’s location or what exactly happened to him, but we did verify with fingerprint evidence that it was his arm.”
Pauline’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. Her eyes started to slide shut and the glass slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. Susan and I raced forward and caught her before she landed on top of the wine glass. My hands slipped on the silk nightgown as I worked to secure a hold on her waist and arm.
“She’s heavier than she looks,” Susan said.
I nodded and helped her guide Pauline to the couch, where we eased her onto it. I called for the man who’d let us in and he came shuffling into the room. His mouth gaped when he saw Pauline Cain slumped on the sofa. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.
“She fainted,” Susan explained. “Get me a cool towel.”
The man left and returned with a damp white towel with a large, gold-colored H embroidered on it. As Susan tended to Pauline, I pulled the man aside. “What’s your name, sir?”
The man kept glancing at Pauline. “Um…Stephen. Stephen Butler.”
“When was the last time you saw Hays Cain?”
Stephen was thoughtful. “Friday night.”
I eyed him skeptically. “You haven’t heard from him in four days and no one thought to call it in?”
“It is not unusual for Mr. Hays to leave for days and not even call.”
“Where was he headed when he left Friday?”
“He does not share his itinerary with anyone.”
“Not even his wife?”
“No, officer. He does not often say to anyone where he is going.”
“How does his wife feel about that?”
Stephen sighed. “It is why she consumes so much wine—red wine, the sweet variety.”
“I understand that.” I scratched my head. It didn’t make sense to me that a man would just walk out of the house without telling anyone where he was going. “I understand you don’t know where he went, but do you know if he had any business out on Lake Berg?”
Stephen blinked with surprise. “Lake Berg? Mr. Hays does not fish. He does not even own a boat.”
“What about friends? Who does he hang out with on a regular basis? Someone who can tell me where he was going Friday?”
Stephen stared up at the chandelier, nodded. “That would be Randall Rupe—the elder. They have been best friends since high school, or so I have been told by Mr. Hays.”
“Where can I find him?”
“Everyone knows Mr. Rupe. He is the owner of the only car dealership in Mechant Loup.”
“Thanks, Stephen. You’ve been a big—”
“Who are you?” cried Pauline Cain in a slurred voice.
I hurried to the sofa, where Susan knelt beside Pauline’s outstretched body. Pauline was trying to push herself to a seated position.
“Whoa,” Pauline said. “The room is spinning.”
“Relax, Mrs. Cain,” Susan said in a soothing voice, helping her back to a reclining position. “I’m Susan Wilson. Remember?”
The blood seemed to drain from Pauline’s face as she remembered why we were there. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “Oh, my God! Hays! What happened to my husband?”
Susan placed a hand on Pauline’s shoulder and leaned close. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but we’re not real sure yet. We need to ask you a few questions so we can know where to concentrate our efforts.”
Pauline settled into the sofa and cried softly. I wanted to tell her I understood, wanted to reach out to her, tell her it would be okay…but those were all lies. The sad fact was it wouldn’t be okay. This moment would haunt her for the rest of her life. She would lose a lot—sleep, her appetite, interest in most things. I touched the broken glass and puddle of wine on the black marble floor with the toe of my boot. Apparently, I thought to myself, you’ve already suffered some sort of loss.
“Mrs. Cain,” Susan said, “would you rather it if we came back tomorrow?”
Pauline didn’t lift her head. “I just want to sleep.”
Susan looked up at me, and I nodded. I turned to Stephen Butler. “We’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
Before heading to the office to retire for the night, Susan and I stopped at the hospital to check on Dexter Boudreaux. The double sliding doors swished when they opened, and a gush o
f cold air rushed out to meet us. The cleanliness of the hospital made me very aware I hadn’t taken a shower since crawling out of the swamps earlier in the day.
Mrs. Boudreaux sat alone in a corner of the bright waiting room reading a book. She didn’t look up when we walked in.
“I want to visit with her,” I told Susan.
Susan nodded. “I’ll talk to the doctor and find out how Dexter’s doing.”
I walked slowly toward Mrs. Boudreaux, but stopped a few feet away. “Mrs. Boudreaux?”
The elderly lady looked up and smiled. “I told you my Dexter was coming home to me. He will always come home to me.”
I wanted to tell her to stop living in a fantasy world. Wanted to tell her death was inevitable—that the only thing uncertain about dying was the order in which we would be taken. Instead, I took a seat beside her and nodded. “That Dexter is a tough one.”
“He is! Did he tell you about the time he spent over a week in the marsh with no food or water? His boat broke down.” Mrs. Boudreaux waved her hand around. “That was before they had those carry-around phones. No matter how long he was gone, I knew he was coming home to me.”
Mrs. Boudreaux’s eyes lit up when she spoke about her husband and the deep wrinkles that were etched into her face seemed to grow shallower. As her voice droned on, I absently wondered if counting her wrinkles would offer some clue as to just how old she was. She talked nonstop until Susan entered the room.
“Hey, there, young lady,” Mrs. Boudreaux said. “Would you like to join us? We have all night because the doctor said I won’t be able to see Dexter until the morning.”
Susan smiled and cocked her head. “Thank you so much! I’d love to stay, but, actually, I’ve come to steal my chief away from you. I need him back at the office.”
“I understand. You two run off. I’ll sit here and read until they let me see Dexter.”
I nodded my goodbye and followed Susan out into the parking lot. The warm air felt good on my face. “How is he?”
“Not good. They said he lost a lot of blood.” Susan frowned. “He hasn’t regained consciousness, and they said it’d be a miracle if he survived the night.”
