by BJ Bourg
Isabel and Reginald spent the next couple of hours comparing the juror questionnaires with the names on the seating diagram, digging out the questionnaires for each of the targeted jurors. The questionnaires contained addresses, telephone numbers, and other information that might prove helpful in locating the jurors. Isabel knew most of them had probably moved by then, but the addresses would at least help Chief Wolf verify that he was researching the right people.
When all of the questionnaires had been located, Isabel sat on a box and read the original police report. Early in the morning on March 8—twenty-two years earlier—Sandra Daniels called the sheriff’s office and reported her estranged husband raped her. She told the deputies he was a cop, and she knew nothing would happen to him because it was her word against his. Since Daniels was a cop, Isabel knew he should’ve been easy to find, but it took the sheriff’s detectives eight days to get him into custody. The trial started on January 17 of the following year and lasted into the weekend. It was on Sunday, January 23, that the jury finally found him not guilty. A newspaper clipping in the file quoted a juror as saying they found the former police officer more credible than the victim and the babysitter, who testified that she’d witnessed Gregg Daniels being verbally abusive to his wife on more than one occasion.
Isabel stared unseeing at the floor, lost in thought. She handed Reginald the case file. When he had finished reading it, he handed it back to her. “Why is he killing the jury that set him free?” he asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Isabel said. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she jumped to her feet, wincing when pain shot through her tired knees. She took a moment to rub them before saying, “What if he got it wrong? What if he’s killing the wrong jury? He means to kill the second jury who convicted him, but he’s mistakenly killing the first jury.”
Reginald scratched his head. “How does he even know who they are? I’ve testified in dozens of cases and I can’t remember any of the jurors—unless, of course, I knew them before the trial.”
Isabel lifted the seating arrangement diagram and the questionnaires. “Defense attorneys get copies of these, too, you know, and the defendants are sitting right there with them, participating in their own defense. It would’ve been nothing for Daniels to swipe a copy and hold onto it for all these years.”
Reginald was thoughtful. “Yeah, I see how he could’ve easily gotten them mixed up in that amount of time.”
Isabel gathered up all of the paperwork. “You go home and get some rest. I’ll bring these to the chief first thing in the morning.”
Isabel and Reginald locked up the storage room and walked down the long hallway to the exterior door. When they opened it, Isabel gasped at the bright sunlight and involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn it, Reggie, what time is it?”
Isabel could see Reginald look at his phone and shake his head. “I don’t know. It’s dead.”
She sighed and made her way to his car. “Bring me to the office, so I can stop home and save my marriage before heading down to Mechant Loup.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Reginald asked.
Isabel shook her head. “We’ve spent enough time together for one night. Get home to your wife and salvage what’s left of your marriage.”
Reginald laughed. “My wife won’t care that I’ve been out all night. She knows no one else wants me.”
CHAPTER 36
William had the stranger on his knees with his back against the Charger when I arrived at Cig’s Gas Station. I didn’t run right over to where they were, but I sure wanted to. I held to a normal pace and when I reached them, glanced down at the rough-looking man. “What do we have here, William?”
“This piece of shit has been stalking the town looking for you,” William said, holding the man’s face up to the light so I could see it clearly.
I squatted next to the man and leaned close, not recognizing him. “Well, here I am. What do you want?”
“I’ve got a message for you, but you’re going to have to work for it.” The man sneered, thinking he was allowing the suspense to build. He was enjoying it a little too much and that irked me.
“I don’t give a shit about your message,” I said, refusing to give him the satisfaction. I stood and looked away as though I were bored, nodded to William. “Cut him loose and send him on his way. He hasn’t broken any laws.”
William stared blankly at me. “Just like that?”
I nodded. “Do it.”
William paused, then jerked the man to his feet and spun him around. I could tell he didn’t want to do it, but he finally removed the cuffs from the man and pointed toward his truck. “Get out of here before the chief changes his mind.”
The man rubbed his wrists for a moment and then turned his beady eyes to me. It appeared he had come there to do a job, and he was going to do it. “I’ve got a message for you.”
“I already told you I don’t give a shit about your message,” I said, but curiosity was killing me. It was all I could do to act casual.
The man nodded for a long moment, and then said, “Simon Parker sends his regards.”
My blood ran cold at the sound of the name. Simon and his three brothers were responsible for killing Abigail and Michele. They were supposed to be locked up in La Mort awaiting trial for first degree murder. “That’s impossible,” I said coolly. “Simon’s in jail.”
The stranger laughed. It was a wicked laugh and his voice cracked, making it sound even eerier. “Yeah, well, I was in jail with him and he sends his regards.” He shot a thumb toward the store. “I tried to deliver the message to you last year, but that bitch in there lied for you. Said some other joker was the chief of police.”
“She didn’t lie,” I said. “She just didn’t know.”
“Well, Simon wants you to know he’s getting out of jail soon and he’ll be paying you a visit.” The man spat a stream of tobacco juice in my direction. I followed it with my eyes and it landed near my boot. I looked back up at the man and there was a twinkle in his eye. “Simon said you’re going to pay for killing his little brother,” he continued. “And then he’s—”
I moved quickly toward the man, and he stiffened up ever so slightly, as though expecting to get hit. “You tell Simon he’ll never step foot outside of a prison again, but if he does, it’ll be the worst day of his life and it’ll be the best of mine.”
Trying to regain his composure, the man slowly backed toward his truck, nodding his head as he did so. “I’ll tell him,” he said. “I’ll tell him what you said.”
“Tell him he’s safe in jail, but out here”—I waved my left hand around—“his ass belongs to me, and I live for the day I can avenge my daughter and wife.”
Without saying another word, the man turned and rushed to his truck and drove away. I stood staring after him for a long while, forgetting William was standing there until he cleared his throat and spoke. “Chief, are you okay?”
I shook my head to clear it and turned to him. “Yeah, I am—why?”
“You’re holding your gun in your hand.”
CHAPTER 37
Saturday, October 17
When I drove up to the police department in the morning, my eyes were bloodshot and I was tired. I didn’t drink coffee much, but I felt like I needed at least a few cups. I’d made the mistake of trying the sleeping pills the doctor had given me, but they hadn’t gotten rid of the nightmares—hadn’t even made a dent in them. In fact, they were worse than ever and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the stranger’s visit. At about midnight, I had made a mental note to call my friend in the city to find out the status of the case, and found myself chugging a half bottle of vodka—completely forgetting about the medication. The combination of alcohol and pills put me out like the dead, and I wasn’t even close to waking up when the alarm went off in the morning. Chloe had nearly dragged me out of bed and forced food into my mouth, and I saw the look of concern on her face as I fumbled to g
et dressed and finally walked out the door. I kissed her to reassure her I was okay, but I felt off my game and woozy.
I barely noticed the car parked in front of the police department and I didn’t give it much thought as I made my way into the station. Lindsey was at her desk and I started to ask why she was there on a weekend, but then remembered. Ethel used to be my weekend dispatcher, but she’d had a stroke at the desk one day and—although she’d recovered nicely—decided life was too short to spend it working. Lindsey agreed to work weekends until I could find a replacement, but after seeing the overtime pay on her check, she’d begged to keep the spot. I knew I needed to hire another dispatcher eventually, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Lindsey started to say something to me, but I just pushed by her and forged ahead, needing to sit before I fell asleep standing up and hurt myself. I nearly jumped out of my skin when something moved in the chair in front of my desk. It was Isabel Compton and she looked as bad as I felt. Her blonde hair was several shades darker than normal and it was stringy and plastered to her head. She wore a light-colored undershirt that had black smudges and streaks across it and her red skirt was rumpled and dirty. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like there was blood oozing from a scratch on her left shoulder.
“Hey, Chief,” she said. “Forgive my appearance, but I needed to see you first thing this morning.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked, slowly taking my seat behind the desk. “I don’t mean any offense, but you look like shit.”
“Right back at ‘cha.” She smiled and her eyes twinkled, appreciating my candor. “It looks like we both had a rough night.”
I suddenly remembered the grand jury hearing and leaned forward. “Is it about Susan? Is she in the clear?”
Isabel’s face fell and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s not about that.” She handed me a yellow folder that had Prospective Jurors scribbled on the label.
As I opened it, she told me she and Reginald dug through their storage unit all night and had located the “kill list” that Gregg Daniels was operating off of, explaining he had been tried twice for raping his wife. He was found not guilty after the first trial, but he wasn’t done with her. Unable to forgive her for reporting him, he attacked her the very next night and raped her again, this time beating her senseless and pressing a gun to her temple and threatening to kill her while he performed the heinous act. He was arrested a day later and ultimately convicted of aggravated rape.
“So, why is he out?” I wanted to know. “Why didn’t he get life in prison?”
Isabel shrugged. “The judge set the sentence. There’s a note in the file saying the DA’s office pushed for life, but the judge thought twenty-five years was long enough.”
“Tell that to the family of everyone he’s killed since getting out,” I mumbled, reading over the names of the jurors. Something didn’t sit well with me and I brought it up to Isabel. “Why kill the people who set him free?”
“The best we can come up with is that he got the lists confused,” Isabel explained. “He was privy to the same information we have and, if he kept a list of the jurors’ names from both trials, it’s reasonable to think he could’ve mixed them up after all these years.”
I couldn’t argue, as his DNA was on all the arrows. I thanked Isabel and walked her out to her car. She complained about the Louisiana heat when we got outside, and then begged me and my officers to be careful. I thanked her for the help and called Susan on her cell, asked her to return to the office. I stopped by Lindsey’s desk and asked her to have Melvin, William, and Amy come to the office as soon as they could. She said she’d call them right away, and handed me a message from Sheriff Turner saying he couldn’t find the files I’d asked about.
I then ran the names of the remaining jurors and printed out their current addresses. Four of them lived in Sheriff Buck Turner’s jurisdiction, so I called him and asked if he could have some deputies go out to their houses and make sure they were safe. He agreed and took the information over the phone.
When I hung up with Turner, I spread the seven remaining questionnaires and address printouts on my desk, along with their driver’s license pictures, and drummed my fingers. My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced myself to concentrate. Which one would he target next? I didn’t have the manpower to station a guard at each of their homes, but if I knew who his next target would be, maybe we could be there to catch him and put an end to all of this.
As I pondered this, Susan and Melvin rushed through the door at the same time. Melvin was out of breath from exertion and Susan’s face was flushed. “Lindsey said to get back here in a hurry,” Susan began. “Something wrong?”
I went over the story I’d received from Isabel and pointed to the pictures. “We need to split up and reach out to these people as soon as possible.”
“What do we tell them, Chief?” Melvin asked.
I explained that we needed to warn them they were potential targets of the Arrow Slayer and they needed to take every precaution to keep themselves safe. “If they own a gun, tell them to sleep, eat, and shit with it in their hand. If they have loved ones, tell them to do the same.”
“What if they live alone and are unarmed?” Susan asked. “How do we keep them safe?”
I was thoughtful. “We don’t have the resources to place an officer at each of their homes, but tell them they’re welcome to stay here.”
“Here? Where will they stay?” Melvin asked. “We can’t fit seven people in this building.”
“We’ll get some cots,” I answered, thinking on my feet. I began walking throughout the office—Susan and Melvin following silently behind me—inspecting every inch of the place. When I was satisfied, I returned to my office. “We can turn my office, the break room, and the interview room into sleeping quarters. We should be able to fit at least four cots in each room.” I went on to explain how we would accommodate the potential victims and some members of their families, from feeding them to protecting them. “We’ll take turns guarding this place. One of us has to be here twenty-four-seven and we can only leave one door accessible. Everything else has to be locked tight.”
Melvin asked how we were supposed to guard the office while still handling complaints and trying to catch the killer.
“Maybe the sheriff can loan us some bodies.” I studied the windows to my office. “We’ll need to barricade all the windows in the office, and the jurors will have to stay inside until we catch Daniels. If they even peek outside he could get them.”
“What if these people refuse to come with us?” Susan asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t come live in a police station. I’d much rather stay home and take my chances—same as with hurricanes. I’d much rather take my chances at home than stay in a shelter with a bunch of strangers.”
I shrugged. “We can’t force these people to let us protect them, but we can certainly impress upon them how dangerous this Gregg Daniels is.” I handed two of the packets to Susan, two to Melvin, kept two for myself, and dropped one on Lindsey’s desk for William or Amy—in case one of them came out. Lindsey said they had left for home about an hour before I got to the station, so they were probably already sleeping. I told Lindsey not to let their phones ring too long. “If they answer right away and they both come out, tell them to reach me on the radio and I’ll get them another packet.”
Lindsey nodded her understanding, but her face was ashen. I knew she was scared. She loved reading crime novels, but she didn’t like it when things got dangerous around the office. I put a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Lindsey. Trust me, we’ll catch this guy, and everything will go back to normal.”
She smiled, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced.
Susan and Melvin had already bolted out the door and I followed suit, looking down at my paperwork to see which juror I’d selected for myself.
CHAPTER 38
Sergeant Susan Wilson sat in her police Charger studying the paperwork Chief Clint Wolf had given
her. There were worry lines on her forehead, but it had nothing to do with the task at hand—or the possibility that she could be arrested for murder in a few days. No, the concern she felt was for Clint. His eyes were bloodshot that morning and he looked lethargic. She wondered if he’d had too much to drink the night before and if it would adversely affect his ability to concentrate on his job. Gregg Daniels was a brutal killer and definitely not someone to play with. She knew they all had to be at their very best if they were going to survive an encounter with him. Hell, even at their best there was still a good chance they wouldn’t come out the other side in one piece. One-on-one, hand-to-hand, she wasn’t worried about Daniels—or anyone, for that matter. But how do I stop what I can’t see? The very thought made a shiver creep up her spine. She looked up and scanned her surroundings. She knew he could be out there right now, with an arrow aimed in her direction. Of course, she hadn’t served on his jury and he shouldn’t be mad at her. But—she glanced at the driver’s license photo in her lap—Ava Harper had, and she needed Susan’s protection.
Susan fired up the engine and left the police station, careful not to appear in a hurry. She smiled and waved at a reporter on the corner and yawned, trying to appear as casual as possible. Once she was out of sight, she picked up speed and raced toward Coconut Lane to check on Mrs. Harper. According to Harper’s questionnaire from over twenty years ago, she had twin daughters who would be twenty-seven now, and she would be about fifty-two. Clint hadn’t found a work history for her, so Susan hoped she’d be able to find the woman at home.
When Susan turned onto Coconut Lane, hers was the only car in sight. Most people were at work at that hour and the neighborhood looked like a ghost town. She slowed as she passed Mayor Dexter Boudreaux’s house, wondering if he or his wife knew Mrs. Harper. Dexter’s truck was gone and Susan didn’t want to bother his wife when he wasn’t home, so she continued toward the back of the street. She had almost reached the end when she found the address she was looking for printed on a large mailbox wrapped in brick. There was a car in the driveway, which was encouraging.
