by S. L. Hebert
Without thinking, I turn and enter the interview room, slamming the door behind me. As I glare into my brother’s eyes, I notice he doesn’t flinch.
“Well, well, look who else has decided to pay me a visit today. My long-lost brother. I should have known you wouldn’t be far behind her. This must be my lucky day. What is this, the two for one special?”
Standing in the room listening to my brother, all I feel is rage consuming me from the inside.
“What’s wrong, Michael? You look like you’re having a difficult day.”
“Fuck you, you piece of shit! You’re going to tell me who you’re working with on the outside, even if I have to beat it out of you.”
“You haven’t learned anything yet, have you? I never do anything without knowing what’s going to happen next. You should try it sometime; it would make your life a whole lot easier. From the looks of it, I’d dare say things aren’t so rosy on the home front for you and Logan, are they? I knew it was only a matter of time before she’d tire from the boredom. Face it, little brother, you’re just not stimulating enough for her.”
Not able to stand another word from his mouth, I leap across the room, landing a right hook square on his jaw. Before I know it, I can hear Logan hollering for me to stop as she manages to hook my arms, stopping me from taking another swing at him.
“Enough, Michael!”
“I’ll tell you when it’s enough, Logan! Now get out of here!”
“No, this is not up to you. You’re not even supposed to be in here.”
“You better listen to her, Michael. It may turn out to be the smartest thing you ever do.”
Turning to my brother, I see he’s smiling as he wipes the blood from his cheek. When he realizes I’m watching him, he takes his hand and licks the blood.
“Michael, I need you to follow me out of this room right now.”
Looking to Logan, I see she has one hand on my forearm and the other placed over her stomach. Instant worry washes through me, for fear I may have accidentally hit her in the stomach. This causes me to ask, “Are you okay? Did I hit you?”
As she follows my eyes with hers, she realizes I’m looking at the placement of her hand. She says, “No, it’s nothing. I just haven’t eaten today. You need to get out of this interview room, now.”
“Fine.” Turning towards my brother John, I can’t help telling him, “This isn’t over by a long shot.”
In a cool, collected voice, I hear him say, “No, little brother; it’s only the beginning. The fun has just begun.”
Before I can utter another word, Logan’s hands are pushing me out the door. Entering the hallway, I begin pacing in the hopes of regaining my composure. My head is reeling, and the only question I keep asking myself is, how in the hell did she manage to sit across from him and not want to kill him? She may be able to handle this, but I’m not sure I can.
Looking over to her now, I see she’s on her phone, speaking with who I assume to be Lt. Clark. From the sounds of it, she’s giving him the rundown on everything we’ve learned and what just happened. I’ll admit I lost my cool, but I had every fucking reason to. My brother is playing a game with us. The dead body that was pulled out of the water today isn’t one of his victims. This was his way of letting us know he’s controlling things on the outside, even while being locked up in solitary confinement. None of us could have seen this coming.
I find myself peering into the glass, studying John’s every move, or lack of one. He’s remained stoic and poised. The only time he falters is when he glares into the glass and his lips do a slight curl on the ends, letting us see he knows we’re still watching him.
A few moments later, I hear Logan get off the phone. Not saying a word, she ushers herself right beside me. As she looks toward my brother through the glass, I hear her whisper, “He played me.”
“No, Logan, he played us. I fell right in his trap, just like he knew I would.”
“I feel like I need to go back in. There are a few things that aren’t sitting well with me.”
“Logan, I can’t even begin to fathom how you’re able to sit and listen to him.”
“Grasso, I need you to trust me and stay out here. You must not enter unless I’m in physical danger. Can you do that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Not even waiting for me to respond to her, she turns and re-enters the interview room. Watching now, I try to focus. She doesn’t waste any time once in the room. Straight away, she begins talking with John in a manner that would make a stranger think they were friends. The sight of it alone is baffling to me. I thought when she went in, she would question him about the new body, but she hasn’t. Instead, they’re talking small talk, then it dawns on me what she’s doing: she’s warming him up, and it’s working. Turning the volume up a little louder, I quietly listen, hanging on to their every word. Logan’s demeanor is completely different than before; she’s leaning back in her chair, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. It doesn’t take her long to broach the subject of his fascination with her, saying, “John, you’ve told me more than once that when you first met me, you knew I was a lost soul. Would you mind telling me what it is you think you know, other than what I’ve already told you?”
“Now, now, Logan, that’s not part of the rules. For this to continue, you also must hold up your end of the bargain. I held up mine. You asked for a body, and I’m quite sure you’ve found him by now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come back. So, you see dear, it’s your turn.”
“There’s not much to tell. My father was an abusive, controlling alcoholic with a bad temper. He would get pleasure from belittling whoever was around. I’m guessing it made him feel better about himself.”
“Go on, Logan. Most of this, I already know.”
“That’s the thing. I can’t give you more due to having suppressed most of my memories. You see, either you’re going to have to tell me, or I can’t hold up my end of the deal.”
“It won’t come to you that easily, Logan, but I’ll be generous and give you a little hint, so listen carefully. As a child, I know you lived through stress and the deprivation of deceit and brutality. Due to your father, you grew up in a land of barbarity and retribution. I know you think I’m trying to destroy you, Logan, but it’s quite the opposite: I’m trying to free you. If you allow me to help, what I will promise you is no harm will come to you…” He pauses for a moment, then leans in over the table and in almost a whisper says, “And no harm will come to your…” With a quick glance, he looks to the glass as if he can clearly see me, with the slyest smile smeared across his face.
Turning my attention back to Logan, I hear her simply say, “It’s time for me to get going. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.” Without waiting for him to reply, she instantly stands up from her chair and heads for the door.
On her way out, I hear him say, “Thank you for stopping by today, Logan. As always, you are simply glowing.”
I watch as she pauses for a brief second. His last comment seems to catch her off guard, leaving me to wonder if his threat towards me startled her.
As soon as she’s in the hallway and the door closes, the only think I can think about is her well-being. “Logan, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. We need to get Detective Tyler back on the phone and tell him he needs to be all over their medical examiner. If he can get the test results from their lab and put a rush on the ID of the victim, maybe we’ll be able to figure out who John’s working with on the outside. I want to know the reason why someone would willingly help him. They must stand to gain something from this.”
“At the moment, Logan, it appears whoever it is seems to be doing his dirty work in the Franklin area, not ours.”
“Michael, you may want to fill Abigaila in on this. I don’t trust him not to have someone go after her.”
While listening to what she’s telling me, I take one last long look at my brother and tell Logan, “Let’s head back t
o the office. We need to let everyone know what’s going on before I take you home.”
She doesn’t argue with me as she heads to the sliding iron door, hitting the buzzer to exit. As we’re crossing the main entrance hallway, we proceed through another locked door that leads to the warden’s office. We stop in for only a minute to let him know we’re leaving, and finally Logan speaks up, saying, “Warden, if you don’t mind, could you tell Dr. Ashby I won’t be needing him today? He should be in the infirmary.”
“Sure, I’ll let him know. I was watching the second part of your meeting with John on the monitors. You seemed to handle him well. I hope you don’t let him get too deep in your head.”
She politely continues, “I won’t. You’ll need to keep your eyes and ears open. We need to figure out who John’s communicating with. You said he’s only allowed to seek medical attention when needed and no outside visitors, right?”
“None except his lawyer. From what I hear, he refuses to speak with anyone except you, especially not the guards.”
Agreeing with Logan, I feel the need to put in my two cents on the matter, saying, “I’m certain it’s someone from within, and it’s important we get to the bottom of this. You have a mole working here, and if needed, I’m sure our lieutenant won’t mind placing a few undercover officers to work in here if it helps to find out who’s behind this.”
He can barely hide his aggravation with my statement. I’m sure he feels like we’d be stepping on his toes. Honestly, it really doesn’t matter to me whether he likes the idea of it or not. At least I’m giving him the courtesy of a heads up. Not wanting to stick around and end up in a pissing contest with a major, I suggest to Logan it’s time for us to be going. She willingly agrees, and we exit the prison through the same side door we entered earlier in the day.
No sooner than we’re in the car and pulling out of the complex, I see her on the phone. It only takes me a minute to figure out she’s on the phone with Tyler again. I listen in silence as she informs him about John. I also hear her telling him they need to put an officer on Abigaila, in case she’s in danger. I pay attention to her demeanor while she’s talking; she appears to be relaxed, yet the tone in her voice is stern, almost to the point of being demanding. It’s as if I’m getting a glimpse of the old Logan.
As we arrive in the parking garage under the station, she ends her call. I turn off the car, then she turns to me, stating, “Our boy in Franklin doesn’t have all the test results back yet. He was, however, able to tell me the body they pulled from Bayou Teche has had some of its limbs removed. He claims his medical examiner informed him that from the looks of it, the amputations are clean cut, meaning a surgical saw was used. In other words, we’re looking for a person with medical experience, or at the very least someone with access to the equipment.”
“Let’s just get up to the lieutenant’s office and let him know what’s going on. He was supposed to be at the jail today, and I’m not even sure I want to know why he was a no-show.”
“You ever notice, Logan, that every time we’re in the middle of dealing with some crisis or ordeal, he seems to disappear?”
“Yes, I have. I was worried about him last time we were in Houma on the hunt for John, and I guess I’ll continue to wonder about him now. Eventually, I’m going to demand an explanation.”
“Logan, you may want to let me do the demanding for the time being, or at least until you’re not being so closely scrutinized under the microscope.”
It only takes us a few minutes to make our way to the lieutenant’s office. He appears to be on the phone, fussing with who I assume to be Sheriff Trahan. With a quick glance, he notices us standing in his open door and motions with his hand for us to enter. Proceeding with caution, we take a seat in the chairs placed in front of his desk.
We end up having to wait a good while for him to finally hang up the phone. Without hesitation, I comment, “I take it that was the sheriff?”
“Yeah, and boy, does he have a hard-on for me today. Go figure. It’s a known fact that shit rolls downhill, and it just so happens I’m his scapegoat for today.”
Logan doesn’t remain quiet, asking, “What’s his complaint now?”
Inhaling deeply, as if he’s trying not to lose his cool, the lieutenant says, “What do you think it’s about, Logan? The damn body that was pulled out of Bayou Teche today. The sheriff wants to know how it is John’s able to pull strings from inside prison walls while in solitary.”
Without missing a beat, Logan dives in, leaving me sitting with a ringside view of her going back and forth with Lt. Clark. She begins by telling him how the only access John has to the outside world is through his lawyer and the infirmary. Listening to her speak, I have to say I’m impressed with how she’s handled everything so far today. Something in the interview lit a fire in her, and it’s as if she’s back to her old self, at least when it pertains to the case.
Focusing back on the present moment, I begin to listen carefully, as it seems she’s learned some more news about the new victim in Franklin, news she didn’t feel the need to share with me in the car.
Her voice is effortless, lacking any emotion as I hear her say, “It appears that according to Medical Examiner Kellon Miller in Franklin, the corpse that was pulled from the bayou was a Caucasian male, appearing to be in his thirties. He also stated the body was rather fresh and had only been in the water for maybe a day, two at the most.”
Pausing for a second, she looks to both me and the lieutenant, then continues. “One obvious point the examiner made was that the amputated parts of the body were the feet and hands, just like William Broussard. He also made a note in his report that our new victim suffered blunt force trauma to the head, also the same as William. He doesn’t feel it’s farfetched that our latest victim may have been poisoned. He’s having toxicology screens run as we speak. Det. Tyler also informed me that along with the local tests being run, they’ve put a rush on all other blood work with the lab in Baton Rouge. He says by tomorrow we should have more answers, but he won’t be surprised if the test for poison is positive and it turns out the drug of choice was hemlock, or conium, as some call it. In other words, whoever is working with John knows enough about his past murders to duplicate them. Our new killer could be someone John’s close to.”
Sitting back in my chair, I’m dumbfounded by the fact that she didn’t mention most of this to me beforehand. Taking a glance at the lieutenant, he seems to be trying to process all the information she’s just laid out for us. He has one hand rested on his forehead, while he’s tapping his pen on the desk with the other. Logan and I remain reticent, waiting for him to say something.
Finally, he utters, “This shit just keeps getting better and better. I guess there’s no doubt now John has managed to wrangle in someone on the outside to do his dirty work. I have no choice but to assign a few undercovers to work in the jail. Grasso, you used to work in narcotics. How good are those boys at undercover work?”
“The agents who have been in the game for a while are as good as they come, sir. I must ask, how are you planning on putting them undercover at the jail? I would ask that it’s not in general population; it’s too risky to put them in that deep. Might I suggest placing them working the switchboard in main control? They’d be protected behind the dark, tinted glass, where no one could outright see them. It’s perfectly located right by the booking area; that way, they’d be able to watch all the monitors in the prison and observe all the in and out activity for the day and nighttime.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Grasso. I’m sure the warden won’t be pleased with the decision, but I have no doubt the sheriff will be able to persuade him.”
“Speaking of which, we already gave the warden a little heads-up earlier that you were going to want to put trained eyes on the situation. He wasn’t happy about it, but maybe by now he’s thought better of the situation.”
“Son, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the warden’s disgruntled about. He’
ll be lucky if he still has a job once all this is said and done.”
As if on cue, Logan’s cell phone starts ringing, abruptly cutting off his rant.
“This is Logan. What did you find out?”
Eyeing her from my chair, I watch as she listens to the voice on the other end of the phone. It only takes her a couple of minutes before she says, “Really? That’s an interesting twist. Do you happen to have an address for him?”
After a moment, she thanks the caller and hangs up the phone. With a serious look on her face, she states, “The victim found today in Franklin is a resident from Houma. His name is Roy Thomas.” She hesitates for only a second, then continues. “I have an address for him. According to Detective Tyler, he has a house located on Second Street, right off Main Street. Lieutenant Clark, you’ll need to have Richard check to see if anyone reported missing fits the description of a white male. Age is approximately mid-thirties, brown hair, and height is about five-eight. I’d like to request that Michael and I go to the location and check out the residence. According to court documents, he’s currently married.”
“I don’t know about this, Logan. What if I allow you and Grasso to go over there and it’s a trap? What if the wife’s in on this and she’s the one who killed her husband?”
“According to Detective Tyler, his wife is registered through the state as a teacher. Her name is Anna Thomas. I highly doubt she’s clever enough to pull off something of this magnitude.”
After thinking about what Logan has said, Lieutenant Clark surprisingly but reluctantly gives his okay for me and Logan to pay our victim’s wife a visit. He informs us to proceed with caution and says he’ll have road patrol notified, informing them we’ll be in the area in case we need back-up.
