But Not Forgotten: A Clint Wolf Novel (Book 1) (Clint Wolf Mystery Trilogy)

by BJ Bourg

  I pursed my lips and nodded slowly.

  Nick Miller lowered his head and quickly walked away.

  “It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting,” Chloe called from behind us.

  CHAPTER 25

  I didn’t say much on the drive back to the restaurant. When we arrived in the parking lot, I followed Chloe to her car. “Why are you being so quiet now, Clint?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just tired. I’ve worked six days straight and I have to be back out on the water in the morning. I have to find Hays Cain’s body.”

  Chloe scowled. “You weren’t tired twenty minutes ago.”

  “I know. It just hit me all of a sudden.”

  “All of sudden after you talked to the mayor and the judge. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Not at all. You’re extremely intelligent—that’s why I like you.”

  “Oh, so you like me?” Chloe smiled and bit her lower lip, staring up at me.

  “No…that’s not what I mean.”

  “Oh, now you don’t like me.” Chloe crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Which is it, Mr. Chief of Police?”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as I collected my thoughts. “Look, I think you’re really cool and I’d love to hang out with you all night, but I have to go to work—”

  Chloe’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “And now you want to spend the night with me!”

  Before I could say anything, Chloe burst out laughing.

  “What I meant was I’d like to spend more time with you, but I can’t tonight. I have to get out on the water early in the morning, and I have to get home to Achilles.”

  Chloe’s face scrunched up. “Who’s Achilles?”

  “My dog.”

  “I’m being passed over for a dog. Great.”

  I smiled. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know Judge Miller?”

  “He’s…um, he’s my father-in-law.”

  Chloe’s mouth fell open. “Oh, Clint, I’m so sorry! Now I understand.”

  “It’s okay. I’d rather not talk about it.” I opened Chloe’s door for her, and she hesitated.

  Finally, she slipped into the driver’s seat of her car. “Why don’t I cook dinner tomorrow and bring it over to your place? We can visit some more then.”

  My heart rate began to steadily increase. “Um…sure. That sounds great. As long as you make enough for Achilles.”

  “You’ve got a deal.” Chloe pulled the door shut and drove away.

  When I got home, Achilles was whining to get out of his crate. His tongue dangled from the corner of his mouth like a limp cigar and his tail wagged.

  I opened the crate, and Achilles bounded toward me. I leaned over and scratched his head, then walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of vodka. I twisted the cap off and opened the back door. “Come on, tiger. Get out there and do your business.”

  I sat on the back steps and pulled from the bottle as Achilles sniffed around in the grass. The evening air was warm, and there was a lazy breeze blowing. After a few seconds, I felt a pick on the back of my neck and slapped at it. I held up my hand until the light pouring from the back door illuminated it. I grinned at the tiny black smudge and spot of blood on my palm. “I got you, you little shit.”

  I wasn’t grinning for long. “Damn mosquitoes are worse than vampires.”

  Thinking I was talking to him, Achilles started jogging toward me. He suddenly stopped and his ears came alert. I’d heard it, too—a large branch snapping. Only something heavy could’ve made that noise. I rested the bottle of vodka on the wooden steps and stood. I reached for my pistol, but cursed when I remembered I’d just returned from Susan’s fight.

  Another branch popped several yards beyond the tree line, and Achilles shot like a bullet toward the sound, barking as he ran.

  “No! Achilles,” I yelled, running after him. “Stop!”

  The forest exploded with sound. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as whatever it was ran off. It was black as sin and I couldn’t see three feet in front of me. I could hear Achilles pushing through the underbrush, barking as he ran. He was about twenty yards ahead of me, but it sounded like I was catching up. A growl ripped from Achilles’ throat. What was clearly a human gave an angry grunt and then Achilles let out a sharp cry.

  “I’m going to kill you if you hurt my dog,” I screamed.

  Anger coursed through me and, although I was spent, it propelled me forward. I opened my mouth to yell again, but I smashed face first into what felt like a tree. The irony taste of blood was instant. My teeth jarred in my head and my knees gave out. I slid downward, the rough bark scraping my face as I fell. When my knees hit the ground, I jolted to a stop and collapsed onto my left side.

  * * *

  Something wet and slimy slid across my chin and lips. I stirred, then winced as pain shot through the front of my face. I opened my eyes. Everything was black. Am I blind?

  A soft whimper in my ear told me Achilles was beside me. He nestled his cold nose against my face. I pushed myself to a seated position, but the blackness swirled around my head and I nearly vomited. I sank back to the ground. Achilles whined, trying to push me with his head. I rubbed his ears. “I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute.”

  When my stomach had settled, I propped my back against the tree. I felt in the dark and pulled Achilles close, checking him with my hands to make sure he was okay. His coat was soft, but his young muscles were solid and ripped. When I pushed my fingers against the left side of his ribs, he yelped. “Somebody kicked you good, didn’t they?”

  I could feel Achilles lick the area.

  “That won’t work,” I said. “You probably have bruised ribs. That’ll take a little time to heal. You’ll just have to suck it up.”

  Once I was sure Achilles was okay, I took the time to check on my own condition. My nose felt tender to the touch. I couldn’t tell if it was broken, but blood poured freely from it. I pulled off my shirt and held it to my nose, leaning my head forward. Achilles’ body squirmed rhythmically with the wagging of his tail. He sidled up to me and began to lick me aggressively. I didn’t mind. “You’re a brave little tiger, ain’t you?”

  After about fifteen minutes, and with the aid of the tree that had dropped me, I was able to stand slowly without vomiting. Blood still leaked from my nose and onto my chest, but I ignored it. I stumbled through the woods and toward my house. Having gained my night vision, I was able to distinguish the darker shadows from the lighter ones, which helped me pick my way through the trees. I stopped often to listen, but I didn’t hear any sounds other than our walking and Achilles’ panting.

  When I reached the rear steps of my house, I snatched up the bottle of vodka and drank deeply of the smooth liquid. I dropped my arm, let the bottle dangle from my fingertips and stared up at the door to my house. There were only five steps between me and the porch, but I was still unsteady on my feet. Gripping the bottle of vodka in my left hand like it was a bomb, I held onto the railing with my right hand to keep from falling. I made my way one slow step at a time and finally made it to the top.

  Once inside, I pushed the door shut and threw the deadbolt. I stumbled toward the couch and sat down hard. My bare chest and stomach were covered in blood, and blood had seeped onto my jeans. I took a long drink from the bottle of vodka. When I pulled it away from my mouth, I gasped for air. Vodka sprayed from my lips. I shook the bottle. There was only one swallow left and I didn’t waste time. When the bottle was empty, I tossed it to the floor and stretched out onto the cushions. My head ached and the room spun.

  Achilles leapt onto the couch and curled up on my blood-smeared stomach. I rested my hand over his neck and ruffled his hair. “I’m going to find that asshole who kicked you and I’m going to beat him to death.”

  Achilles squirmed higher up on my torso, his nails digging into my flesh. I didn’t even flinch. My eyelids were heavy. I sta
rted to talk, but the words fell like bricks onto the floor.

  CHAPTER 26

  Sunday, June 29

  “What in the hell happened to you?” Susan Wilson’s hands were planted on her hips and her mouth was wide. Her gaze moved from my worn boots, up through my faded jeans and shirt, and rested on my battered face. “You look worse than I do right now—and I had a professional fight last night.”

  “You’re an amazing fighter. I’m not.” I walked by Susan and entered my office, with her on my heels.

  “Clint, what happened?”

  I sat behind my desk and lightly rubbed my nose with my fingers. “I ran into a tree.”

  “Bullshit! What happened?”

  I sighed. The throbbing in my head was worse than any hangover I’d ever experienced. “Someone was behind my house last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard someone in the woods behind my house last night. Achilles took after them, and I tried to catch him, but I ran nose-first into a tree.”

  “Did you go to the hospital?”

  I didn’t want to explain why I couldn’t get behind the wheel and drive, so I just waved a hand. “It’s nothing a little time won’t fix.”

  “Why didn’t you call it in?”

  I laughed, then winced when the pain stabbed at my face. “Who would I call? The cops? I am the cops. Besides, it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Susan crossed her arms in front of her chest and paced back and forth in front of my desk. When she finally stopped, she whirled on me. “What if someone’s trying to kill you? What if it’s the same person who killed Kelly Dykes?”

  I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. I hadn’t thought of that. I figured it was someone with a good enough reason for being out in the woods at night. “Maybe it was a hunter or something. Maybe some kids playing hide and seek.”

  “What about Achilles? Did he come back?”

  “When I came to, he was licking my face. Whoever it was kicked him hard enough to make his ribs tender, but he was more concerned about me than he was about himself. I tell you, that’s one loyal little—”

  “Wait—what? You were unconscious?”

  “I don’t know. I was stunned, I guess.”

  “If you lost consciousness, you need to go to the hospital. You could have a brain bleed.”

  I stood and grabbed my police radio. “Are you ready to hit the water again?”

  Susan sighed. “You’re one hard-headed man.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I stood to walk out, but Susan caught hold of my arm.

  “I saw you at my fight. Thanks. It meant a lot.”

  I nodded, then walked out of my office and into the break room where Melvin and Jack were at the table talking to a snowy-haired woman I hadn’t met yet. I stuck out my hand. “I’m Clint Wolf.”

  The lady looked up and recoiled in horror. “What happened to you?”

  Melvin looked up and gasped.

  Jack twisted in his chair to see what all the fuss was about. He smirked. “It looks like you met Sergeant Susan Wilson.”

  “I didn’t realize I looked that bad. I lost a fight with a tree trunk.”

  “Chief, no offense,” the woman said, “but it looks like your face caught fire and someone put it out with a frying pan.”

  We all laughed.

  “I’m Ethel,” the lady said. “I’m one of your weekend dispatchers. I used to be a nurse, so you should let me look at that.”

  “I’ll be fine, ma’am, but thanks. And it’s nice to meet you.” I turned to Melvin. “Any word on the recordings?”

  Melvin shook his head. “Nothing since Friday. I’ll call first thing in the morning and see if it’s ready.”

  “I can take care of that,” Jack offered.

  “Nope. Melvin’s got it.” I could’ve sworn Melvin’s face lit up. I grabbed the pot of coffee and poured a cup, drinking it straight and in one gulp. It burned my tongue, palate and throat, but it successfully redirected the pain from my nose. When I put the cup down, I glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m going to head out to the lake with Susan and see if we can’t cover more ground. We need to work the south bank a little better, I think. Melvin, can you head further down Bayou Tail?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand it. Hays Cain’s body should’ve been floating by now.”

  “His body could’ve gotten tangled up in some debris or stuck in the mud,” Jack offered.

  “That’s a real possibility.” I started to walk out the break room.

  “Hey, Chief,” Melvin said, “I have a buddy who works for the sheriff’s office. He’s a canine officer and he’s got a cadaver dog.”

  “Excellent idea, Melvin,” I said. “You think he’d be willing to go out there with you?”

  “He’d love it!”

  “Great. Make it happen.”

  Melvin rushed out of the room, and I turned to Jack. “Did anything interesting happen last night?”

  “Nothing much. It was pretty quiet.” Jack scowled. “I did get another call about a suspicious man hanging around the gas station.”

  “Who called it in?” I asked.

  “The clerk working the night shift. She said he came in and looked around, asked who the chief of police was, and then left.”

  “Asked who the chief of police was?” I echoed.

  Jack shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

  “Did she tell him?”

  Jack smirked. “She told him she thought it was Beaver Detiveaux.”

  I scowled. Who in the hell could be coming here asking about me?

  Jack stood up. “Well, I’m heading out for the day.”

  I nodded to Ethel. “You can get out of here, too. I’ll wait here until Lindsey comes in.”

  CHAPTER 27

  It was late in the day, and Susan and I were about to call it quits when Melvin’s voice scratched over the police radio. “Chief, we got something!”

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “We’re still on Bayou Tail, about ten miles south of the lake.”

  Susan revved the engine and shot toward the southern end of Lake Berg. Misty droplets of water sprayed my face, making me thankful for the cool reprieve from the hot sun. The back of my neck burned. I glanced at my arms. “I’m going to have a farmer’s tan,” I called over the steady hum of the boat motor.

  “I tried to tell you to use sunscreen,” Susan said.

  “I need sunscreen as much as you need a bodyguard.”

  Susan chuckled.

  “I still can’t believe how vicious you looked in that cage. You were downright mean. You went at her like she stole your boyfriend.”

  “I just did my job.”

  “Yeah, you did beat her like it was your job.” I grabbed onto the edge of the boat as we hit some waves and rocked roughly up and down. When the front of the boat stopped bouncing, I leaned closer to Susan. “When are you fighting again?”

  “I’m not sure. I need to meet with the promoter and my trainer. It’s getting harder and harder to find opponents. The more I win, the harder it is to convince someone to take a fight with me.”

  “I can understand that.” I pointed toward a sheriff’s office boat tied to a tree along the banks of Bayou Tail a hundred yards away. “There they are.”

  As we neared them, I saw Melvin launch a large grappling hook into the air. It landed in the water with a large splash and quickly sank, dragging a long length of rope with it. Melvin allowed the rope to slide through his hands until there was slack in it. He looked up as Susan eased our boat beside theirs.

  “Chief, this here”—he nodded at a young fellow dressed in dark blue BDUs—“is my buddy, Seth. And that ugly critter is Coco.”

  “Damn, Chief,” Seth said. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing a little time can’t fix.” I glanced down at the critter. It looked like a saddleback German shepherd, only much smaller. “Is that a German sh
epherd?”

  Seth nodded. “She was the runt of the litter, but she was so cute I couldn’t pass her up.”

  “She doesn’t look very scary,” Susan said.

  “She’s not,” Seth explained. “I use her strictly as a cadaver dog. I’ve got a large—”

  “This is it!” Melvin’s cheeks were puffy as he strained to pull whatever was attached to the grappling hook toward the surface.

  I picked my way across our boat and stepped over to Melvin’s boat. They both rocked gently as I changed over, and Melvin had to put out a hand to maintain his balance. I hurried beside him and grabbed hold of the prickly rope. Together, we dragged the heavy object toward us.

  “It feels like we’re pulling a dead whale,” Melvin said between breaths. “I’ve never had a drown victim this hard to pull up.”

  “Hays only weighed about two-fifty,” Susan said.

  I nodded, leaned over to re-grip, and then pulled back on the rope. When I had pulled as far as I could, Melvin leaned over and took the next long tug. I wiped sweat from my forehead, said, “Maybe we’re pulling up an old car.”

  “I claim it first if it’s a treasure,” Susan quickly said.

  I started to respond, but stopped when I saw the crown of thick, curly hair break the surface of the muddy water. I leaned over and helped Melvin pull it closer and saw it was missing an arm. “It’s him.”

  Susan maneuvered the back of her boat in our direction until she could reach the rope and helped us guide the body between the two boats. She pointed to some chains attached to Hays Cain’s waist. “That’s why it’s so damn heavy!”

  Hays’ swollen torso had ripped the front of his button-up shirt open, but it was no match for the links of unforgiving chain. The skin at his waist had stretched around the chain and ripped in places. As Melvin and Susan held Hays steady, I reached under his body and felt two ropes extending downward from the chain wrapped around his waist. I grabbed one of the ropes and tugged on it. Whatever was attached to the other end was heavy. “He’s weighted down with something.”