by BJ Bourg
Simon let go of his right eye and clutched at my hand, trying to push my pistol out of his mouth. I knocked his hand away and shoved it even deeper. His left eye was wide and bulging and tears flowed down his face. He was gagging and mumbling something I couldn’t understand. My trigger finger was tense, my hand shook. I’d wanted him dead since the day he murdered Abigail and Michele. I had prayed for the chance to do it myself and that chance had arrived, but I suddenly found myself conflicted. I was always prepared to take a life in defense of myself or of someone else, and I had hoped to be involved in a gun battle with Simon and his brothers, but I’d never considered murdering any of them in cold blood.
I heard pounding on my back door and it interrupted my thoughts. After more pounding, the door burst open and the table slid across the kitchen. I didn’t look up, but I could see Susan and Melvin standing there in my peripheral vision. A moment later there was a crash behind me and footsteps approached, but stopped abruptly.
“Holy shit,” Amy said from behind me. “Clint, hold up…don’t do what you’re about to do.”
“Chief, put the gun down,” Melvin pleaded. “It’s over. We’ve got them. We won.”
“Listen to them,” Susan said in a soft voice. “Put down the gun so we can bring him in. It’s over. He’s going to prison and he’ll face the death penalty for sure. His life is already over, so don’t throw everything away for him.”
Simon nodded his head up and down, begging with his good eye. I eased up on my pistol. This bastard wasn’t worth my freedom. Susan was right…he was finally going to pay for what he did. He’d just confessed to all of the murders and he would be locked up in a hellhole until the day the state executed him. He’d have to live with the loss of his brothers like I’d had to live with the loss of my wife and daughter. That, I realized, would hurt more than the split second of pain he would feel if I shot him. Death would be the easy way out for this monster.
Susan took a step closer to us. “Come on, Clint. You’re better than him. Stop and think about what you’re doing. Please, think it through.”
“You’re right.” I sighed and removed my pistol from Simon’s mouth.
Simon’s face relaxed and he licked his dry lips. “I knew you didn’t have the balls to do it, you little prick.” He smiled wide and pushed his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be—just as he’d done right before he shot Abigail.
My vision blurred and my head swam as an overwhelming sense of rage engulfed my every fiber. Abigail’s innocent face came back to me and I could hear the fear in her voice as she begged me to help her. I relived the very moment her soul left her body—could see her expression go immediately blank when Simon’s bullet sucked the life right out of her.
Letting out an animalistic growl that sounded like it came from somewhere above me, I shoved my pistol back into Simon’s throat and screamed down at him, “You murdering piece of shit! You killed my baby girl!”
I could feel Susan grabbing at my shoulder…could hear Melvin and Amy screaming at me to put the gun down…could smell the fear emitting from Simon’s body, but my senses were dull to all of it, as though it was all a dream. The one thing that felt real was the gun in my hand. Knowing what I had to do, I stared unblinking into Simon’s eyes—not wanting to miss a thing—and pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER 35
4:37 a.m., Saturday, October 31
Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office
Reginald Hoffman walked into the interview room to join Detectives Mallory Tuttle and Doug Cagle, who had finished interviewing me an hour earlier. Doug’s sleeves were rolled up and it looked like he wanted to beat a confession out of me. He’d eyed me with contempt during my entire statement, often referring to Simon as the victim.
My left brow was starting to sting from the stitches I’d received. Doug had handcuffed me in my kitchen, read my rights, and then reluctantly transported me to the hospital before bringing me to the sheriff’s office. My head ached. I glanced up at Reginald when he walked in and nodded. His dark hair was usually slicked back with some kind of gel, but tonight it was thick and bushy, making him look every bit of his forty-seven years.
“I just got off the phone with Isabel,” he said, speaking to Mallory and Doug. “And she says our office won’t be pursuing charges against Chief Wolf.”
“What?” Doug’s mouth fell open. “He murdered a man in cold blood—and he confessed to it!”
Reginald shook his head. “It was a justifiable homicide. Simon Parker broke into his home to kill him, which makes him fair game in the eyes of the law.”
“But he wasn’t in fear for his life,” Doug argued. “Simon was unarmed and helpless.”
Mallory slid a criminal code book toward her partner and said, “Like I already told you, he doesn’t have to be in fear for his life to use deadly force in his own home. The only requirement is that he felt deadly force was necessary to compel the intruder to leave.”
“But the intruder was lying on his back with a gun in his mouth, so how in the hell was he supposed to leave?” Doug threw the criminal code book across the room. “That’s a loophole and you know it!”
Mallory shrugged. “Then have the law changed.”
“Oh, you can bet your ass I will!” Doug folded his arms across his chest and fixed me with a cold stare. “You swore an oath to uphold the laws of this state and you violated that oath. You’re no different than the murderer you killed and you’re certainly not fit to be a chief of police.”
“Doug, you’re right, I did swear an oath to uphold the laws of the great State of Louisiana, and I do feel like I’ve failed my profession and my department.” I stared down at the floor and frowned. “Three years ago I remained true to that oath, and my wife and baby girl were killed because of it. Last night I remained true to the memory of Michele and Abigail.” I looked back up at him. “It was selfish of me. If the state would’ve decided I’d committed a crime and they wanted to charge me, I’d have taken my medicine like a man. If some higher power decides I’ve committed some sort of moral sin…well, I’ve retroactively paid a heavy price for that, haven’t I?”
“But you didn’t have to kill him! You could’ve taken him in and he would’ve been tried and convicted for murdering your family, Chloe, Mr. Dexter, Seth and—”
“He doesn’t need a lecture, Doug,” Mallory interjected. “The DA’s office gets the final call and they’ve made their decision. You don’t have to like it, but you damn sure will abide by it.”
Doug stood and stormed out of the interview room, slamming the door behind him. When he was gone, Mallory apologized for him. “He doesn’t have kids, so he doesn’t get it.”
I waved it off. “I understand where he’s coming from and he’s right—I’m no longer fit to be chief of police. Once this investigation is concluded and things are back to normal in Mechant Loup, I’m going to resign.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Reginald leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Isabel and some of our brightest assistants have been researching this for hours, and they all agree the law can’t touch you. You were lawfully inside your home, he made an unlawful and forcible entry into your home, and you knew he made that unlawful and forcible entry. That there, my friend, is presumptive evidence that the deadly force was necessary to compel the intruder to leave. You’re free and clear.”
“The thing is,” I began in a quiet voice. “I didn’t care about the law—I was going to kill him wherever I found him. The fact that he was in my house was just dumb luck. I had murder in my heart and that disqualifies me from serving as chief of police.”
Mallory and Reginald sat in silence for a few moments. When Mallory spoke, her voice was firm. “I would’ve done the same thing had that bastard killed my daughter.”
Reginald nodded in agreement. “And the fact remains he broke into your house, where it was legal to take him out. Since you didn’t find him anywhere else, what you would have done is no
t relevant and no one will ever know—or care—what you were thinking.”
“Well, I know, and I won’t lie to myself or the people I serve.”
Reginald dropped his feet to the ground and stood. “Well, suit yourself, but you’re a free man. If I have my way, you’ll get an award for killing the piece of shit who murdered Seth. He was my friend.”
Mallory stood with Reginald and opened the door. “Susan’s waiting for you in the lobby.”
I followed them down the long hallway and into the lobby, where Susan was pacing the floor. She spun around when we opened the door and rushed toward me, throwing her arms around me and squeezing. Her mouth was pushed up against my neck and it muffled her voice, but I understood perfectly when she told me how relieved she was to see me. After thanking Reginald and Mallory, we walked out into the cool night air and she announced I was staying at her place.
“Your house is shot to shit,” she said. “So, you can stay with me until everything is back in order.”
I didn’t argue. As she drove, I told her my plans to resign and my reasons for doing so. She didn’t say a word until we were in her driveway and she had shut off the engine. She twisted in her seat to face me. “You know how we all tried to talk you out of shooting Simon?”
I nodded.
“We didn’t do it to stop you from killing him.” She paused and shook her head for emphasis. “No, the reason we tried to talk you out of killing him was because we didn’t want you going to prison. We didn’t want you throwing your life away for that piece of shit.”
“Cops can’t go around doing things like that, so I have to resign.”
“But Reggie said it was justifiable homicide—you did nothing wrong.”
“The fact that the statute is ambiguous doesn’t give me the right to exploit a loophole.” I smiled to reassure her. “Please understand that, as a father and a husband, I’m proud of what I did and I’ll sleep good knowing I removed that evil bastard from this earth. I just can’t be a cop anymore.”
Susan sat there shaking her head. “What am I supposed to do with you gone?”
“You’ll be the next chief of police,” I said. “And you’ll make a damn good one.”
She grunted and led me into her house. I’d been there before, so I knew the lay of the place. “You can have my bedroom,” she said. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
“No indeed!” I insisted on taking the couch and we argued about it for a minute. She finally relented and disappeared in her room to retrieve a pillow and some blankets. When she reappeared, she also had a clean shirt and some shorts. “These are too big for me,” she explained. “And don’t worry—they’re unisex fighting gear.”
I thanked her and walked toward the bathroom. I stopped in the doorway and looked back to where she stood in the kitchen. “How’d you know to come to my place earlier?” I asked. “I didn’t even hear them break into my house, so how’d you know to go there?”
“One of your neighbors tried calling our office to report hearing gunfire in the neighborhood. The line was dead, so she called the sheriff’s office and asked if they knew how to get in touch with you. Mallory heard it over the radio and called me immediately.”
“How many times have you saved my ass now?” I asked.
“I’m not counting, and neither should you.” She frowned and the dimple over her lip deepened. “It’s what we do for each other, and I’m hoping we get to keep doing it for many years to come.”
CHAPTER 36
“Look at me, Daddy!”
I smiled as Abigail skipped across the rich meadow in her white dress, stopping often to pick up flowers and tuck them into a basket that hung from the crook of her elbow. “Mommy will love these flowers!”
I turned to my left and saw Michele standing under a bright light. Her smile was as beautiful as I remembered. “Look at her, Clint. Look at our beautiful daughter.”
“Michele, it’s you,” I said softly.
“Of course it is. Who else would it be?”
I hesitated, not knowing what to say next. I finally managed to ask if she was happy.
Her smile was all the confirmation I needed, but she said, “As happy as I’ve ever been.”
Abigail was running back toward me. I squatted to take her in my arms, but she stopped just out of reach and turned her back toward me. “Do you like my wings, Daddy? I’m an angel now! Want to see me fly?”
——
I heard the sizzling of bacon before I smelled it. Disoriented, I slowly opened my eyes and sat up. My vision was blurry at first, but Susan’s figure slowly came into view. She was bustling about the kitchen wearing nothing but a long shirt. The muscles in her tanned legs rippled, but her feet barely made a sound as she padded back and forth from the counter to the stove.
I rubbed my messy hair and wondered how long I’d slept. The last thing I remembered doing was lying wide-eyed in the dark, staring blindly at the ceiling. My last thought was whether or not Susan had a bottle of vodka stashed somewhere in her cabinets. I must’ve fallen asleep immediately thereafter, because here I was, awake and not knowing what the hell happened.
“What time is it?” I asked, suddenly realizing I hadn’t had a nightmare.
“Good, you’re up.” Susan turned from the stove, holding a spatula in one hand and tongs in the other. “I could use some help before I burn my house down.”
I hurried to the kitchen and took the tongs from her, taking care of the bacon while she dealt with the grits and eggs. She indicated with her head toward the microwave clock. “It’s a little past noon.”
“Wow,” I said, grinning large.
Susan stopped what she was doing to study my face. “I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. What’s going on?”
“I slept for like six hours.”
“Congratulations. You’re an average American. But I still don’t get why you’re so giddy.”
“I just feel different.” I lowered the fire on the bacon and explained how I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept without having a drink—or a nightmare. “And I had this weird dream that I saw Michele and Abigail, and they were happy. Abigail even showed me her back. She had the most beautiful wings attached to it. She said she was an angel.”
I looked from the bacon to Susan. Her eyes were misty and she was smiling. “I’m not religious, or anything,” she began. “But I think that’s their way of telling you it’s okay now—that you did the right thing last night. You brought closure to their case and enabled them to move on in the afterlife.”
I nodded my head, not knowing if she was right or not, but feeling better than I had in years. If she was right and the dream was a sign, what was I supposed to do next? Where does my life go from here?
Without saying more about it, Susan and I finished cooking brunch and sat at the table to eat. I didn’t know if her cooking was that good or if I was that hungry, but it was the best eggs, bacon, and grits I’d ever eaten. We were almost done eating when Susan’s phone rang. She answered with a smile, but her smile slowly faded as she listened.
“Okay, we’ll be right there.” She disconnected the call and placed her phone down on the table. “We have to go to the sheriff’s office right away.”
“Is there a problem?”
I already knew the answer, because her brown eyes looked troubled and she was chewing on her lower lip. She nodded slowly. “It seems the Parker brothers didn’t kill Chloe.”
I dropped my fork. “What? Are they sure?”
“Mallory was pretty positive. She said she’s got something she wants you to hear.”
I sat there stunned. “If Simon and his brothers didn’t kill Chloe, who was it?”
Susan shook her head. “She didn’t say. She just wants us to get there as fast as we can.”
CHAPTER 37
Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office
Mallory met Susan and me in the lobby at the sheriff’s department and ushered us into an office at the end of a
long hallway. Her name and rank were displayed in gold letters above the doorframe. Once we were inside, she sat at the desk and fired up her computer.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why’d you say the Parker brothers didn’t kill Chloe? What proof do you have?”
Mallory reached into a leather bag and pulled out an evidence envelope. After donning a pair of latex gloves, she removed a small black device from inside and placed it on the desk in front of her. “Do you know what this is?”
I nodded. “It’s an undercover recording device.”
“It’s the same kind we use in some of our undercover sting operations.” She reached back into the leather bag and pulled out a wire. She connected the wire to the device and then plugged it into one of the USB ports on her computer. “We found this bug in Chloe’s bra.”
“In her bra?” I asked. “I’ve never seen her with that thing before. What was it doing in her bra?”
“She was recording a conversation between herself and Megyn Sanders,” Mallory explained.
“Megyn Sanders…wait a minute!” I was thoughtful. “Why would Chloe be talking to the manager from the Bayou View Pub?”
Susan shrugged and glanced at Mallory. “Do you think it has something to do with Megyn’s murder?”
“I didn’t listen to all of it,” Mallory acknowledged. “When I realized what it was and that it might relate in some way to your case, I figured y’all needed to hear it.” She frowned and stared into my eyes. “And I felt you should hear it first, since she was your girlfriend. In fact, if you want, we can step out and let you listen to it alone.”
