Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

  CHAPTER 44

  10:45 a.m.

  LA State Prison – Chetimaches, Louisiana

  Sitting in the small interview room in full police uniform, I felt naked without my gun belt. The prison smelled of rotten feet and disinfectant—an unsettling combination. The building was ancient and dank, like an old dungeon, and I was sure if the walls could talk they would tell tales of unspeakable horror—both in history and in the not so distant past. When all of the world’s evils come together in one place, demons are sure to come out and play.

  I had to wait ten minutes before the steel lock on the large metal door shifted and the door opened, squeaking as it did. Two prison guards stepped through the door, escorting a man in tan coveralls. He was cuffed and shackled and had to shuffle to keep from falling. He moved like a well-trained dog, with the guards only needing to point their commands rather than speak. He’d been here a long time, and that was plain to see.

  Duggart eyed me with suspicion as he took the seat across from me. His eyes were gray and cold, filled with hate. What hair he had left was styled into a flattop and matched the color of his eyes. The lines in his face were deep and angry and he didn’t flinch when the guards slammed the door shut behind him, leaving us alone.

  The chains on his wrists rattled as he lifted his pale arms and dropped them onto the steel table. “What the hell do you want, law man?” His voice was raspy and hard.

  I placed my own arms on the table and leaned closer. “I want to talk to you about your reason for being here.”

  “Unless you’re here to get me out, I got nothing to say to you.”

  I pointed to a tattoo on his arm. It was shaped like a kick pedal for a bass drum. “You play?”

  He smirked. “Stop trying to play cop with me. I know the routine. You pretend to find some common ground and we talk about it. You get me saying yes to a lot of things and then you try to trick me into saying yes to committing a crime. I’m not stupid, copper.”

  It was my turn to smirk. “You seem a bit paranoid for acting so sure of yourself. When I ask if you play the drums, it’s because I’m curious to know if you play the drums…nothing more, nothing less.”

  Duggart squinted, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to it, then,” I said. “Did you rape and murder Jolene Hedd?”

  He leaned forward and said, “No!”

  I grabbed my accordion file folder from the floor and placed it on the table. After removing the synopsis of his statement, I turned it so he could see. “Then why’d you confess to it?”

  “That statement is bullshit! I didn’t confess to nothing.”

  “So, you didn’t say you killed her because she tried to break up with you?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

  Duggart grunted. “Why? So you can twist my words like that other cop did? No thank you.”

  “Trust me, we want the same thing.”

  “The last time I trusted a cop I got life in prison without parole.” Duggart stood to his feet and turned toward the door. “This visit is over.”

  “Bill Hedd might be responsible for killing my girlfriend,” I said. “I’d love nothing more than to have him trade places with you.”

  Duggart froze in place. “Is this some kind of trick?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about my girlfriend being murdered.”

  Duggart grunted and returned to his chair. “How’d it happen?”

  I explained how Chloe had been murdered while interviewing Megyn in the bar. “I think she was trying to find evidence to help you,” I said, “and that got her killed.”

  “Wait, what about Megyn?”

  “She was gunned down, too.”

  I thought I saw his eyes water up. He hung his head and was silent for a moment. “Megyn blamed herself for my arrest.” He sighed. “It actually was her fault, but I can’t say I blame her. She only told the truth and that cop twisted everything she said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the one who told the detective about me and Jolene. They would’ve never known I was sleeping with Jolene had she kept her mouth shut.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I explained. “Bill found a receipt for a hotel room in the city, so he followed Jolene one night and saw her meet up with you. He got the license plate number off of your black truck and had one of his investigators run it. That’s how he knew who you were. When he was pressed on his whereabouts for the night of the murder, he gave up your information and that’s what led the detective to the bar.”

  Duggart was thoughtful. “So, Bill followed us that night?”

  “What night?”

  “The night Jolene was murdered.”

  “No, it would’ve been a different night. He confronted her after her rendezvous with you and she promised to break up with you.”

  “The detective tried saying the same thing. He wanted me to confess to killing her because I was angry about her breaking up with me.” He shook his head. “She never tried to break it off with me. I didn’t even know Bill caught us. In fact, I never took her to the city, so I don’t know what receipt you’re talking about.”

  I squinted. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I never took her to the city. That receipt had to be for someone else.”

  I hadn’t considered that angle. “So, you think she was seeing someone else? A second person?”

  Duggart shrugged. “It’s not impossible. I mean, she was screwing around on her husband with me, so what would keep her from screwing around on me with someone else? Women like that, they’ve got no loyalties.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. Jolene had been sleeping with Isaiah Wilson, but he died in January—six months before she was murdered. At the time of her murder, she was having an affair with Lance Duggart, but Duggart never took her to the city, so that means she was sleeping with someone else. Did Duggart really kill her? Or was it Bill? Or this mystery man?

  I rested my elbows on the table and studied Duggart closely. “If you didn’t rape Jolene, how’d your DNA get inside of her?”

  “Because I slept with her that night.”

  “The night of the murder?”

  “Yeah.” Duggart frowned. “It was our last night together. We met in the cane fields like we always did and had sex in the back of her Escalade. I can describe every inch of her SUV for you, if you like, and I can take you to the exact spot we’d meet.”

  “The second part might be hard,” I said. “A lot has changed in the twenty years since you’ve been locked up.”

  He described the road they’d meet on and the route they’d take to get back home. While some of what he said sounded familiar, it was obvious some of his landmarks were no longer there. I shuddered at the thought of him being innocent. That would be unspeakable. How do you get twenty years of your life back? I turned to the file folder and dug out the investigative report. “What time did you meet Jolene that night?”

  “Roughly ten o’clock. She said she had to hurry home in case Bill called. He was at a conference or something.” Duggart frowned, staring at the concrete ceiling. “I still remember what she looked like, standing in the headlights of her car, completely naked with her arms in the air. She was so beautiful. Bill didn’t deserve her. To him, she was just a trophy to show off, like a deer mounted on the wall. I saw through her beauty to the woman on the inside. I don’t know what she saw in me, but I know she always told me I made her feel free.”

  Duggart paused for at least a minute, appearing to be lost in the moment from twenty years ago. I brought him back to the present with a wave of my hand and a question. “You were saying she was standing naked in front of the headlights…”

  “Yeah, she was. I tackled her to the ground—easy like, you know?—and we rolled around for a while. Afterward, I talked to her about our future, and what her intentions were.
I didn’t like going home to an empty house while she was going home to her husband.”

  “Did that make you angry?” I asked.

  “Well, it upset me, but not enough to murder her, if that’s what you’re getting at. I loved her and would never hurt her.” Duggart’s shoulders slumped. “Bill didn’t love her, so I’d say he was quite capable of killing her. In fact, I always suspected he had come home early from the conference that night and attacked her when she got back from seeing me.”

  “Did you tell the detective your suspicions?”

  “Not exactly, but I did tell him he should probably investigate the husband, because they were the ones who usually murdered their wives.”

  “Did you and Jolene fight that night?”

  “Look, I’ve never touched her! I already told you, I’d never hurt her.”

  “No.” I lifted a hand. “I meant argued. Did y’all argue that night?”

  “I mean, a little. I accused her of having a number two on the side.”

  “You accused her of cheating on you with someone other than her husband?”

  Duggart nodded.

  “Why would you accuse her of that?”

  “She always had to hurry off, even when Bill was out of town, so I got suspicious.” Duggart sighed. “But then she told me she loved me, so I figured I was just being paranoid and dropped the issue. She promised to see me the next day and then we left our spot. I followed her to the Central Chateau Bridge, like I always did, and flashed my lights at her when I turned off to head home. It was our goodbye sign—I’d flash my lights and she’d tap her brakes.”

  “Lance, I have to ask you this,” I said slowly. “If you didn’t kill Jolene Hedd, why’d they find a knife in your garage with her blood on it?”

  The veins in Duggart’s temples protruded. “Someone planted it there, that’s how! I’d never seen that knife in my life.”

  I pulled out the photograph of the knife in his toolbox and slid it across the table. “So, you’re saying someone planted this knife in your toolbox?”

  Duggart nodded. “That’s exactly what happened. Look at that toolbox—I hadn’t touched it in years.”

  “Who would’ve done that?”

  “You’re the detective, you figure it out.”

  “You’re stuck in prison for the rest of your life, and you’ve had twenty years to think about it.” I tapped the picture with my index finger. “So, you tell me who you think planted this knife.”

  “I don’t know, copper, but my best guess would be Bill Hedd. The only thing I know for sure is I didn’t kill Jolene.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t sure. I asked him where he went when he left Jolene, and he said he went straight to the bar. He talked to Megyn for a while and then went home. When he heard about the murder on the news the next morning, he freaked out and laid low.

  “They were talking rape and murder and saying the person could get the death penalty,” he said. “That scared the shit out of me. I knew my DNA would be all over her and I figured it was a matter of time before they’d come calling.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward and tell them what you knew?” I asked. “That’s what an innocent person would do.”

  “Well, most innocent people aren’t screwing the district attorney’s wife,” he countered. “Jolene told me how vindictive he was, so I knew better than to cross him.”

  I stared down at my notepad, assessing the information I’d gathered. In a nutshell, a convicted rapist and murderer was professing his innocence and claiming to have been framed…not an original assertion. I knew if I polled every inmate in that prison, the vast majority of them would also claim to be innocent of the crime that landed them there. I looked up at Duggart. “Can you give me something that’ll help prove you didn’t do this?” I asked. “Anything at all?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…maybe another alibi witness? Did anyone other than Megyn see you that night?”

  Duggart shook his head.

  I was thoughtful. “My girlfriend—Chloe Rushing was her name—seemed to think Megyn had some information that would implicate Bill in the murder of his wife. Any idea what Megyn might’ve known?”

  “Whatever Megyn knew, she would’ve heard from me, and I didn’t have any proof that Bill killed Jolene.”

  “Chloe seemed to think Bill had a lover on the side.” I lifted my hands. “Do you know anything about that?”

  Lance explained how Jolene had always suspected Bill of messing around when he’d go out of town, but she never had any proof. “To be honest,” he said, “I thought she was using me just to get back at him.”

  “Is that why you killed her?”

  Duggart’s eyes turned to slits and he rose slowly to his feet. “You were bullshitting me about your girlfriend being murdered, weren’t you? This was all a trick to try and get me to confess! Who sent you? Was it that bastard, Hedd?”

  I stood and met his hard stare with one of my own. “If you did rape and kill Jolene Hedd, I hope you get raped on a regular basis here and then die a slow and horrible death. But if you didn’t commit this crime, then I hope to God I can find the evidence to clear you, because no innocent person should ever have to spend a single day in jail for something he didn’t do.”

  Lance sighed and sank back to his chair. “I am innocent, but no one wants to listen to me. My own lawyers tried to convince me to take a plea because they thought I did it. How can you defend somebody if you think he’s guilty? My goose was cooked before that trial even started.”

  “Let’s get back to the girlfriend bit.” I flipped through my notes and found where I’d detailed Chloe’s conversation with Megyn. “It seems Megyn said that Jolene told you her husband was having an affair, and Chloe seemed to think Megyn knew the name of his girlfriend.” I looked up at Lance. “She must’ve gotten that name from you, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t remember.” He rubbed his head with his chained hands. “That was twenty years ago. I can’t even remember what day it is today, much less some name from that long ago.”

  “Damn it, Lance! Give it some thought, man.” I slammed my palm on the desk and stood up. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in here if you don’t start remembering something. Give me a name. A first name…last name…nickname…anything.”

  Lance threw his head back and faced the ceiling. He began mumbling to himself with his eyes closed. He remained like that for so long I thought he had fallen into a trance and was speaking in tongues. After some time, his eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet. “I’ve got it!”

  Excitement coursed through me. “What is it?”

  “I remember his girlfriend’s last name—it was Ridley.”

  My shoulders drooped. The name meant nothing to me. “What about a first name?”

  “A first name?” Lance scoffed. “You’re lucky I came up with anything.”

  “Come on, can you remember anything at all about the first name?”

  “Just that it was different. It wasn’t a common name like Jennifer or Mary or something like that.”

  CHAPTER 45

  1:00 p.m., Monday, November 2

  Chateau Parish Church of Christ

  Susan and I stood amongst several hundred other law enforcement officers as the mournful bagpipes paid tribute to Seth and Nate. Their families were standing at the front of the church, all of them crying. Susan grabbed my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.

  We’d attended Chloe’s funeral at nine in the morning. Mr. Rushing had asked me to say a few words and, despite my uncertain and bitter feelings, I said some nice things and then sat quiet through the rest of the ceremony. After Chloe had been laid to rest, Susan and I drove straight to the service for Dexter and his wife. The small cemetery in town was overcrowded with people from far and wide. Dexter was well known as an alligator trapper and was a favorite among the tour guides in the area. I recognized a lot of the townspeople, but there were many strangers
from out of town who had made the long drive to pay their respects. Dexter was the kind of man you could meet once and remember for the rest of your life.

  As people took turns talking about what a great person he was, I had thought back to the first day I met him and frowned. I’d always thought my inexperience on the water was what had contributed to him losing his arm to Godzator, but he had selflessly gone out of his way to make me feel better about it. During the service, I’d glanced out over the swamp behind the cemetery and wondered if the monster was still out there somewhere waiting for me.

  After Dexter and his wife had been buried, Susan and I labored through a miserable lunch and then drove to the service for Seth and Nate. When we arrived at the Church of Christ, we had to park several blocks away. I’d never seen so many law enforcement officers in one place, nor had I ever seen so many different police uniforms. Marked patrol cars had come from as far west as Utah, as far east as New Jersey, and as far north as Michigan. But the number of officers was dwarfed by the number of civilians who had come from all across the country to pay their respects and show their support.

  Although I’d spent most of the night and day wondering about Chloe cheating on me, right at that moment, with the bagpipes playing and muffled sobs chorusing throughout the cathedral, my mind was on one thing—the tremendous hole that would forever be in the hearts of all those who loved Seth and Nate. There was nothing quite as final as death, and those poor people were about to find it out the hard way. The children would soon realize their fathers would never be attending their baseball games or dance recitals or birthday parties again. The wives would soon realize their husbands would never kiss them or hold them or comfort them again. The mothers and fathers would soon realize their sons would never come over for Christmas or stop by after work or give them any more grandchildren. I knew the pain they felt and it broke my heart for all of them.

  As for Chloe, if she had cheated on me, it would sting a bit, but my heart would immediately go to work purging any feelings I felt for her. It was a defense mechanism I’d acquired as a teenager and it had served me well over the years of my youth. I glanced around and shook my head. Perspective was everything, and the betrayal I might feel would be nothing compared to the loss these poor families felt for their deceased loved ones. Now, if Chloe hadn’t betrayed me, I would certainly feel guilty for second-guessing her, but I’d at least be able to mourn her passing without a cloud of doubt hanging over my head.