by S. L. Hebert
We both give her a quick hug as we hurry out the kitchen, not bothering to discuss anything on the way as we hastily head to the car.
Michael
Thankfully, the drive to the sheriff’s office is quick. I didn’t expect to linger around so long while eating. I just couldn’t stand to see the look of pain in my birth mother’s eyes. I know tomorrow will end up being ten times harder than tonight.
Pulling into the parking lot, it appears to be deserted. I’m sure the night shift is out on patrol and all office personnel have gone home for the night. In a way, it’s a good thing since we’re trying to keep this discovery under wraps.
I’ve noticed Logan has been quiet the whole way here, making me wonder what’s going on in that pretty head of hers. If I had to guess, I’d say her mind is on how to handle John once they’re finally face to face. I plan to make sure on the drive back home to let her know before she can interview John, we need to catch up with the department on everything they’ve unearthed while we’ve been gone.
Shutting off the engine, I glance over to see she’s still holding on to the box with a death grip in her lap. I attempt to keep my voice in a cool manner as I say, “Okay, let’s go give the box to its new owners.”
With a roll of her eyes, she huffs, “Det. Tyler doesn’t know it yet, but he’s in for a long night. Let’s hope he can manage to keep his attitude in check.”
The moment she rolls her eyes, I can see a slight hint of her spunk starting to surface, giving me hope that she’s on the way back to her old self, or at least a similar version of it. The thought of it keeps a smile on my face the whole time we’re walking to the entry doors, at least right up until I see Det. Tyler passing up and down in the hallway, looking perturbed.
Upon entering, I hear him sarcastically say, “Late again? Don’t they teach y’all about being on time down in Houma?”
Logan, unable to help herself, leaps right in, saying, “As a matter of fact, they don’t. We just learned to go with the flow, drifting in and out of the office like the tide. You should try it sometime.”
Instantly, I feel a sense of pride surge through me, thinking, That’s my girl.
For a second, he looks like he’s about to try and go toe to toe with her, but then he catches a glimpse of the bag she’s carrying. Thinking better of it, he slowly inhales as he asks, “What’s in the bag you’re holding?”
I insert myself in the conversation, attempting to take the tempo down a notch or two. “It’s the box I told you we found in the woods. I think we should discuss this in a more private place.”
“Yeah, follow me. Our office is empty in the Homicide Unit. We can go in there. I have one of our crime techs coming in. Her name is Madison Norris. She’s on call tonight, and she should be here any minute.”
Logan quickly chimes in, “Oh, she’s late, too?”
Without a word, Detective Tyler shoots her a pair of eyes, cautioning her not to go there.
As we walk to the Homicide Unit, I smell a hint of rosemary, causing me to turn around, landing me face to face with an older woman whom I assume is Mrs. Madison Norris. She appears to be right at the age of retirement. Trying not to be rude, I automatically introduce myself as we continue to walk. “Hi, I’m Det. Michael Grasso. You must be Mrs. Norris?”
“Yes, son, I am. Please, call me Madison; Mrs. Norris is way too formal for these parts.”
“Then Madison, it is. Thanks for coming in tonight.”
Entering the office, I see Logan and Det. Tyler stop at a desk with a gold name plate that has his name on it. Finally, she releases her grasp on the bag and lays it on the desk. She looks up at Det. Tyler, saying, “It’s all yours.”
In a deep-toned voice, he replies, “You mind telling me Det. St. Martin, what it exactly is that’s all mine?”
The tone of his voice makes me almost lose my shit. He’s trying to flirt with her. This son of a bitch doesn’t know who he’s fucking with, but if he keeps this up, he’ll soon find out.
Thankfully, in true Logan fashion, she doesn’t even give him a second look. She simply says, “It’s the box we found in the woods today. It’s probably best if we start at the beginning with what happened, in case you want to gather up some officers and head out to search the area once we’re done here.”
Realizing he’s going to be here for a while, he takes a seat behind his desk. The prick doesn’t even offer us a seat; so much for southern hospitality. I find myself leaning against the nearest desk as Logan goes on to tell him about how we ended up at the tree, making sure he understands we weren’t alone in the area. He doesn’t seem surprised by it and pretty much dismisses it, chalking the whole thing up to someone hunting or having target practice. I guess around here it’s normal to have a rifle firing off in the afternoon. Even Logan looks surprised at his nonchalant attitude, but she manages to continue with the events of the day, not allowing him to get under her skin.
By the time she’s finished, Det. Tyler and Cassie are itching to open the box. They’re now acting like two kids in a candy store. I’ve never seen officers so excited to discover they have a serial killer living among them in their small town. Truth be told, if I was them, I’d be embarrassed. The I.D.s are old and considered ancient when it comes to dealing with missing person’s cases. These are people who went missing, and nobody bothered to notice. It speaks volumes about this department.
Watching now, Logan moves out of the way, so they can go through the contents. I move myself over on the desk to give her room to stand back by me. We silently listen to all their gawking noises, then Detective Tyler turns, saying, “You know, Detective St. Martin, this doesn’t necessarily prove he murdered all these people. It would help to have some bodies to go along with the I.D.s.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow to work on that. In the meantime, you may want to check your missing person database to see if any of these men were ever reported.”
“I’m fully aware of how to do my job, Detective. We’ll start to investigate into the eight men and their whereabouts. If they indeed are in the missing persons database, we’ll go back out to the wooded area and comb through it with every available man we can round up.” He pauses for a second, then continues. “Let me rephrase that last comment, Detective. I’ll take a few of my boys and go out to scout the area tomorrow. We’ll follow your markers until we find the tree you managed to climb today, but I can’t put all the manpower the department has on this until we’re certain these men are in fact tied to your serial killer and considered missing. Our department works on a budget, and I have to have good reason for using all our resources for one case.”
Before Logan can say anything, I jump in. “We know this is your jurisdiction, but could you keep us in the loop on what’s happening after we leave? Also, maybe try not bringing too many officers in on the search; that’ll be a good thing. We’d like to keep this off the radar. It’s in everyone’s best interest to keep my half-brother, John Broussard, in the dark about any new leads we discover, giving us an edge on him. As I’m sure you’re aware, he’s requesting to only speak to Logan, and we’d like to keep him off-balance.”
“Well, thanks for the advice, my brother. Like I said, we can handle it from here. We have a lot of work to do on our end. As for tonight, I’ll check the missing person database and see if any of these men show up. Then of course, there’s the act of locating the next of kin and finding out what may have transpired before they went missing. For the ones who don’t appear on the list, we’ll have to try and locate them, which I have a feeling is going to give us a whole new set of headaches, but as a courtesy we’ll keep you and Det. St. Martin in the loop. I have a feeling if we don’t find our answers in the woods or by going door to door, we may end up making a trip to your neck of the woods.”
The thought of him coming into our territory doesn’t sit well with me, especially after he flirted with Logan right in front of my face. Of course, he doesn’t know we’re kind of together, well…sort of.
Besides, after seeing how his department was oblivious to the men’s disappearance in the first place, I’m not sure if they can manage to hand out traffic tickets. I know these cases are old, but it’s been my experience that small-town police departments usually don’t like to change their habits unless forced to by a higher power. This causes me to worry a little more about leaving tomorrow, but we need answers. Answers only my brother can give us.
Forcing myself to push my thoughts aside, I politely thank him. Logan and I say our goodbyes after a little bit longer, then head back out to the car. Looking around, I notice it’s fully dark out, causing me to check my watch; it’s going on nine o’clock...man, the time flew by today.
While taking the short drive back to the bed and breakfast, Logan and my conversation is limited to work only, reminding me to check on a possible vacant room for me to sleep in. I need to put some distance between us if we’re going to finish this case without any more personal complications. She shouldn’t mind, since she’s the one who’s clearly not ready for us to be more than just partners and friends.
As I pull to the back of the plantation, I still feel the need to let Logan in on what I’m doing, although I’m not sure why exactly.
“Logan, I want you to know I heard you loud and clear earlier today. I’ll check with the front desk to see if they happen to have a vacant room for me tonight.”
“Really, Grasso? You can’t handle one more night in the same room with me?”
“No, Logan, I can’t. I need to start putting some space between us. This case is way too important to let slip through the cracks because our heads are not in the game. If you need me, then just call my cell phone and I’ll come by and check on you. I’ll get my things in the morning, after we’ve rested.”
She gives me a disheartened, angered look, with a hint of disbelief. Not saying another word, I purposely exit the car without hesitation and make my way inside to the front foyer, praying to find someone working besides my mother. I really don’t want to have to discuss my personal feelings about Logan with her, or anyone else for that matter.
Logan
As I sit in the passenger seat of the car, I allow Michael’s last words to sink in, now questioning all that was said throughout the day, as well as myself. Did I push him too far? And if so, did I do it on purpose? I’ve always had a thing for being able to push everyone away, finding it easier to cope with situations when I’m left alone.
Deep down, I understand myself well enough to know I won’t run after him. I’ve made it a golden rule of mine never to chase after anyone, especially a man. They come a dime a dozen, and frankly, I don’t have the energy to invest in someone who needs coddling all the time. I’ll simply take this time to sit here and let him deal with getting a separate room on his own; that way, we don’t have to end up in an awkward conversation in the middle of the foyer.
After a little while has passed, I decide he should be finished with getting another room. I know from staying here that during the week the plantation isn’t overcrowded with guest. With a heavy sigh, I decide to finally get out of the car.
While stretching my legs as I stand, I take a moment to breath in the cool night air and begin to feel a sense of anger and regret, causing a few tears to slowly escape from my eyes. Quickly, I wipe them away with the sleeve of my shirt while my inner goddess says, “Suck it up, Logan. He isn’t the first man in your life to leave you on your own.”
Shaking off her words, I head into the bed and breakfast, making a bee-line for the staircase. Once I’m at the room, I pause right outside the door, listening for any noises. Hearing nothing, I pull out my room key and slowly open the door. The room is dark and empty. The realization that he won’t be sleeping with me slowly sinks in, leaving me to feel hollow and alone; it’s a feeling I know all too well.
Discarding my shoes, clothes, and jacket, I head into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. Not even bothering to look at myself in the mirror, I just get in, silently praying it’ll wash all my cares away, but deep down knowing it won’t.
I find myself standing as still as I can under the hot water with my head down, allowing the stinging sensation to slowly run down my back, paying close attention to the way the water ripples and moves around every scar. Taking in the solitude, I silently release the tears, allowing them now to run down my face and mix in with the water, understanding they’re not only tears for my past and present, but also my future, a future I fear will be filled with disappointment and heartache. Somehow, I know everything I’ve ever lived through was only meant to prepare me for what’s to come…my face to face meetings with John, a man I’m sure wants nothing more than to destroy me.
Once I’m sure I have no more tears to cry and my body is numb from the hot water, I exit the shower, only to stand face to face with my bare self in the mirror. I study the complex, conflicted girl who’s staring back at me, trying to look beyond the reflection, seeing if she still has a soul left worth saving. No matter how hard I peer into the mirror, I can’t find an answer, leading me to think perhaps John is right: is it possible I’m a lost soul?
I begin thinking about how even though I’ve found myself misguided at times, I’ve always felt as if I was on the right path, never needing to look back. But after the last few months, I find myself questioning everything I’ve ever known and coming up with no answers.
Quickly, I take one last look in the mirror and tell myself, “You will not let him win. You will rise, and in the end, you will be the last one standing, no matter the cost.”
Without a second thought, I turn from the mirror and decide to forget about putting on clothes and head straight to bed, allowing myself to feel free in every sense of the word, even if it’s only for this one night.
As I lay listening to the godawful silence, I find myself looking up at the ceiling. Suddenly, I think about Michael, and for a moment I wish he was here as I allow myself to drift off to sleep.
Suddenly, I’m awakened by the sound of a gunshot ringing in my ears and the feeling of cold sweat dripping down my face. It takes me a few seconds to catch my bearings and adjust to reality. Touching my checks, I realize that not only are the slithering chills of wetness from sweat, they’re accompanied by my own tears.
Somehow managing to catch my breath, I look around, only to realize it was all a bad dream and I’m safe in my room, alone in the dark. But there’s something about the shot that’s leaving me with a daunting feeling. Then it comes to me: it wasn’t the same as the one we heard in the woods; this one’s different. The shot in the woods was more like the sound of a rifle, and the one in my dream is more comparable to the sound of a pistol, firing from close range. Sitting frozen, I try to recall some of the dream, but there’s nothing; only the sound replaying over and over in my head. I know it means something. I’m just not sure what.
Checking the clock on the nightstand, I can see it’s a little after six in the morning and I’ve managed to make it through the night without Michael. I proudly tell myself as I rise from the bed to head into the bathroom, “One night down, and many more to go. You just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.” I decide it’s time to start my day and get a head start on packing for the trip home.
Checking my phone, I see there are no missed calls or messages. I guess Michael was either really pissed or really tired and went straight to bed. Either way, it kind of leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
Well, if I had any doubts last night about pulling away from him, this gives me my answer. I think to myself, Two can play this game. I can be just as stubborn as he is, if not more.
Michael
It took everything in me last night not to turn around and go back to her. With every step I continued to take, my heart screamed louder at my brain to go back and talk with her, tell her I was sorry, but in the end my head won out. It was sheer will that guided my feet to the front desk, where thankfully my mother was nowhere around.
The young desk clerk
was pacing in the parlor area, admiring the wall art hanging on display. I couldn’t help noticing she had the same wide-eyed look of awe Logan wore on her face a couple of months back when we arrived here for the first time.
I didn’t notice until last night, I’ve only seen the young clerk around a handful of times recently, leaving me to think she’s new. I’d never paid much attention to her until last night. She’s petite, with long brown curly hair, but a little on the thin side. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s in her early twenties.
I was just happy she didn’t ask me any questions, especially when I requested my room be on the same floor as the room I was sharing with Logan. She simply smiled and said, “No problem.”
While waiting for her to fetch me my new room key, I noticed her name tag, Aubrey. I remember thinking how it seemed to fit her. Not too girly, but not plain either.
In the end, I politely thanked her and quickly headed up to my room for the night, noticing I was only two doors away from Logan. The thought instantly put a smile on my face, at least for that moment.
It was a little later in the night when I couldn’t fall asleep and watching TV was no longer cutting it that I decided to go and quietly walk past her door. Every so often, I would pause for a moment, contemplating whether or not to stop and knock. In the end, I decided to sit next to the door all night up against the wall, trying to stay awake in case she had a bad dream and cried out.
At some point I must have dozed off, because I was awakened by a low cry coming from inside the room. I instantly jumped to my feet and listened. The cry must have ended as soon as it began, because all I heard was silence after that, prompting me to look at my watch and notice it was about six in the morning.
