by S. L. Hebert
“Damn it!” Without falter, I leave my engine running and jump out of my vehicle, saying, “You can’t block me in! You need to let me leave before everyone else shows up and this place turns into a three-ring circus.”
“I can’t do that, Logan. Now turn off your car so we can go inside. Then you can explain to me where you’re going and why.”
“It’s not like you’re leaving me much of a choice here. You’ve blocked my damn car in. I have a lead that needs to be checked out now. It can’t wait.”
“Well, I guess we better head inside, then, so you can fill me in on this lead.” For a moment he pauses, and when I don’t move, he sternly says, “Let’s go, Logan. The lieutenant gave me strict orders to stay with you until he arrives. He says it’s important that he speaks with you and only you. Oh, and he also advised that you don’t speak with anyone else, not even the sheriff.”
His last statement catches me off guard, and I suddenly feel like the lieutenant’s sending me a coded warning. Normally I would put up more of an objection, but what if he knows where Michael is or who’s taken him? Reluctantly, I decide to shut off the engine to my car and walk back to my apartment with Detective Richard. Upon approaching my door, I can hear the sirens closing in on us from a distance, thus letting me know the cavalry is almost here.
Once we’re inside, I quickly ask Detective Richard if he knows anything else about what’s going on with the lieutenant. Without looking at me, he calmly says, “No.” I can tell from watching his movements he’s now taking in the surroundings of my apartment, clearly trying to figure out what happened before Michael went missing. Unable to sit down, I suddenly feel the need to let him know Michael never came back inside. That whoever took him somehow managed to do it while he was outside on my back patio.
As I’m telling him about the very last moments I was with Michael, purposely leaving out the news of me being pregnant, I can feel my adrenaline starting to wear off and fear beginning to take its place. Questions start to fill my mind, and my mouth allows a few of them to slip out for him to hear.
“How could he vanish without even making a sound? There was nothing, no commotion or noise. I mean, if she was the one near my house, how did she manage to overpower Grasso? Maybe she wasn’t alone, or she sent someone else to come here. Is it possible that whoever it was came across Grasso on the back patio and decided to take him instead?”
“Logan, it’s not going to do you any good to play the ‘what if’ game. Right now, I’d like for you to tell me where you were headed when I arrived. You stated you had a lead?”
Inhaling in a deep breath, I figure screw it, asking myself silently, What do I have to lose?
“I spoke with Detective Jacob Tyler from the Franklin Sheriff’s Department. I inquired about the body found three years ago in the Intercoastal Canal, Anthony Yates. He was from Franklin, and I have been curious as to how he ended up in our waterways, instead of one of the bayous or canals on that end. As it turns out, he informed me that, according to Mr. Yates’ family, he regularly frequented a camp he owned down here. It happens to be located near Lake Decade. They claim he would come and stay for weeks at a time, explaining why they didn’t think anything of it when he wasn’t heard from for a while.”
Purposely, I watch Richard’s face as I fill him in, finding it hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. After a moment, he finally asks, “His family claims he owns a camp here. What’s your thoughts on this bit of information, Logan? I know you have some.”
“I think he was possibly down here visiting his camp and came across John Broussard, or he knew John from Franklin and John talked him into taking a trip to his camp, then killed him. I knew when we learned he was from Franklin that he had to be tied to John in some type of way. If my hunch is right, I think Mr. Yates’ camp may be John’s hidden spot where he took the girls. He always claimed to have a camp here, but we never came across any paperwork leading up to a camp in his name. Now I’m thinking it wasn’t his camp after all; it was Anthony Yates’ camp. He never expected us to find out about Yates’ body from three years ago. The killing was done before his father’s death. It’s only by pure luck the same man who found Yates also came across the new body that was dredged up in the canal.”
Right as Detective Richard is about to respond to my theory, I hear knocking at my front door and immediately notice flashes of lights outside the living room windows. Knowing our time for sharing is over, he remains quiet as I go and open the front door.
I’m first greeted by Crime Scene Investigator Raymond Robins, and following closely behind him are Detective Ethan Babin and Deputy Abbott. Standing aside, I allow them in, watching as they file into my living room.
Instantly, I ask, “Where’s Lieutenant Clark?”
Detective Babin quickly replies, “He’s here. He was delegating duties in the parking lot. We managed to round up a whole shift that was off to help out with the search.”
Looking to our CSI, I inform him, “Detective Grasso was on my back patio when he was taken. You should focus the search on the grounds of the apartment complex.”
At first no one says anything, then Babin steps forward. “Logan, we wanted to come in and see how you were holding up. Even though the sheriff has put you off the case officially, we still consider you part of the team. We want to let you know that we’re here for you if you need anything.”
For a few seconds I’m taken back by his kind words, then I hear my front door open and in walks Lieutenant Clark. As he enters the room, he has a look of disappointment and aggravation written all over his face.
With a nod of his head, he says, “Logan,” then turns his attention to everyone else in the room and states, “You guys have your orders, I suggest you get to work. Time is of the essence.”
Silently, I watch as everyone in my living room heads out the back door except Lieutenant Clark and Detective Richard. Using my better judgement, I decide not to speak until spoken to. I patiently listen as Detective Richard fills in the lieutenant on the latest information I’d just learned before he arrived at my apartment. I quickly notice he left out the part where he found me in my vehicle preparing to leave. Instantly, I’m thankful and a little baffled as to why he didn’t rat me out.
Once he’s finished filling in Lieutenant Clark, they both turn their attention towards me. Bracing myself for what’s to come, I continue to remain silent.
Lieutenant Clark begins stating, “I’m needing to discuss a few things with you, Logan, and I’m going to need you to listen to me until I’m finished. First, I want to know if you happen to remember anything about your past, maybe some clue as to who this female is who’s now taking an interest in you?”
“No, sir, I have no idea. Why?”
“We’ve narrowed down the search at the prison, zeroing in on the nurse’s station. The problem is, some of the nurses are temps who don’t work there on a regular basis. The only reason I’m telling you this is because believe it or not, I’m getting quite a bit of resistance from the sheriff and the warden on this matter. The warden would like us out of his hair, and the sheriff seems to want to make it all just disappear. This includes you, if it comes down to it. He wants nothing more than to pull you completely off the force, permanently. I know you and Grasso have been wondering what’s going on with me since you’ve been back in town. The truth is, I’ve been doing some side investigation work of my own. I won’t get into the details just yet. I’ll only say I’ve uncovered some real shady shit that’s been going on around here for quite some time, and it won’t be long before it all comes out.”
“Lieutenant, what does all of this have to do with me or Grasso?”
“I’m not sure yet, but if my gut’s right, your past is tied into it somehow. What I’m about to do may cost me my job, but I’m going to allow you to leave here and go with Detective Richard to try and track down the lead on the camp. My hope is that you can find the location. If you come across anything remotely solid, I want you
to radio it into me, and I’ll send Detective Babin and water patrol out there to check it out. We need to find Grasso before it’s too late. Now get out of here before the sheriff rears his ugly head and you’re unable to leave.”
Without hesitation, I push aside all the looming questions floating around in my mind. Not even bothering to say goodbye, I head straight out the door and to the parking lot. I don’t have to turn around to know Richard is right on my heels. I can hear his footsteps close behind.
As we approach his vehicle, which is still blocking mine, I plainly state, “I take it you’re driving.”
“Yes, ma’am, let’s get out of here.”
As we approach the exit, Richard quickly asks, “Which way are we headed?”
“Down the bayou, toward Shrimpers Row. We’re going to pay Mr. Billiot a little visit.”
“I’ve heard or seen that name before, I’m trying to figure out why it sounds familiar?”
“He’s the old man who lives at the front of the trailer park where the trailer fire was located.”
“Oh, that’s where I know the name from. I’ve always called him the street watcher.”
“That would be the one. I knew the very first time I spoke with him, he wasn’t disclosing everything he knew. Hell, he basically was trying to warn me about sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. Later, I also saw him at the boat landing one morning when we found one of John’s female victims. I was going to talk to him then, but Grasso advised against it. Thinking back on it now, I should have listened to my instincts.”
“Do you think he knows who the new killer is that’s working with John?”
“I don’t know, but what I do know is if Anthony Yates owned a camp off Lake Decade, Mr. Billiot will know where it’s located. He used to work at the marina, he seems to be a man who hears and sees everything but says very little.”
“In my book, Logan, that makes him a very wise man.”
“Or a dangerous one.”
Allowing our last spoken words to sink in for a moment, I then purposely switch the subject to Lieutenant Clark. “Richard, do you have any idea what’s going on between the sheriff and the lieutenant?”
“Not sure. All I know is, ever since they came back from Franklin a few months back the lieutenant’s been working a lot of late nights, and they can barely stand to look at each other most of the time.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Out of the two of them, which one do you trust?”
“In our line of work, Logan, I learned long ago to always CYA, cover your ass. At any given time, you can be thrown under the bus, especially if it means someone needs to save their own skin. For me, I don’t trust either one of them. They both seem to keep things hidden until it suits their purpose. If forced to choose, I would have to say the lieutenant. Only because I’ve seen how he’s been going to bat for you with the sheriff. The only question I have is, why?”
“I’m wondering the same thing, I’ve been having a leery feeling about the lieutenant since the first female body was found. Grasso and I have said for months that he’s been acting strange. Now with Grasso missing, I’m having to put my concerns about the lieutenant on hold again, at least until I have more time to figure it out.”
“We’ll find him, Logan. You need to stay positive.”
“But will we find him before it’s too late?”
For a moment, I ponder whether to tell Richard about my condition. Ultimately, I decide to keep the news of my pregnancy to myself, mostly out of fear that if he learns the truth, he may turn us around and not let me search for Grasso.
We’re a little over the halfway point when my cell phone starts to ring. Not wasting any time, I quickly answer it. “This is Logan.”
Instantly, I hear a male voice on the other end, recognizing it as Detective Babin. From the strain in his voice, he seems out of breath. “Logan, we’ve found something on the dock, and it’s not good.”
“What?”
“We stumbled upon a syringe, it appears to still have some liquid substance in it. Lieutenant Clark has our CSI taking it down to the lab as we speak to find out what substance it contains. No doubt it was left behind on accident. I think there was some type of struggle leading up to Grasso’s disappearance.”
With my mind going ninety to nothing, the ‘what if’ questions start to roll in like the tide. Trying to remain calm, I ask him if they’ve managed to find anything else. Without hesitation, he informs me they’ve not been able to locate one eyewitness or any other evidence. Leaning back in my seat, I attempt to hold my feelings in check as the sense of helplessness starts to consume me. Suddenly feeling the need to get off the phone, I cut him off without allowing my feelings to show. “Detective Babin, I’m going to need to call you back.” Not giving him enough time to object, I quickly hang up the phone.
I can feel Detective Richard staring at me. Not waiting for him to start asking fifty questions, I begin to tell him what Detective Babin told me. It’s not much, but it’s enough to let us know whoever took Grasso used some type of poison to gain the upper hand in whatever went down on the dock, thus leaving us with the impression that the kidnapper used the waterways to gain access to my apartment. This leads me to be more certain of the fact that I’m on the right track. I’m almost willing to bet my life he’s at Anthony Yates’ camp. I just need to find out where it’s located.
Looking out the passenger window, I say a silent prayer to the Lord, pleading with him to keep Michael alive until I can find him.
“Logan, we’re coming up on Shrimpers Row. Is Mr. Billiot’s trailer the one on the right or the left?”
“It’s the first one on the left.”
“Are you ready for this?”
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
“If you like, I could take the lead…I’m not trying to step on your toes, just offering to help.”
“Thanks, but Mr. Billiot’s old school, and I assure you if he’s going to talk, it’ll only be with me. He seems to have this thing about not wanting to deal with people he views as outsiders. Last time we spoke, he informed me the only reason he was willing to speak with me was because he remembered me from when I was a kid. Apparently, he knew my dad.”
“Then I’ll let you handle him. Remember, I’m right behind you if you need my assistance. All you have to do is take one step to the side, and I’ll step in on cue if needed.”
As I go to pull the door handle, I simply state, “Thanks, let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”
Upon approaching the front door to the trailer, I’m reminded of earlier in the day when I attempted to contact Mr. Billiot and came up empty-handed. Silently praying for a different outcome, I hesitantly knock three times on the metal door, then patiently wait in the dark for a light to switch on or the door to open.
I’m about to knock again when suddenly, the white metal door swings open and there stands Mr. Billiot wearing what appears to be only a pair of coveralls. Instantly, I can tell he was sleeping as he uses his hands to finish wiping his eyes and attempts to slick his grayish white hair back off his forehead. Slightly confused, he states, “Young lady, I’m not sure why you’re here at this time of the night, but this better be good.”
“Mr. Billiot, I’ve come to ask for your help.”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t want to be involved. Please leave me out of whatever it is and find someone else to bother.”
Choosing my words carefully, I calmly state, “I heard everything you’ve told me in the past, but I need you to know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” Pausing for a moment, I try to gauge his demeanor, quickly noticing his eyes drifting from me to Detective Richard, who’s standing quietly behind me. Without thinking twice, I swiftly introduce them. “Mr. Billiot, this is Detective Richard. He’s going to go and stand by the vehicle, so we can speak in private.”
Turning towards Richard, I cautiously tilt my head, mo
tioning for him to oblige me. Thankfully, he takes the hint and politely says his hello and exits the porch, heading toward the car. Giving my full attention back to Mr. Billiot, I lower my voice to almost a whisper. “Mr. Billiot, I’m here to find out if you’ve ever heard of a man named Anthony Yates?”
“Not that I recall. Why do you want to know?”
“We received information that Mr. Yates owns a camp somewhere in Lake Decade. I figured if anyone could tell me where it’s located, it would be you.”
Finally, I can see he’s trying to search his memory to see if he knows Mr. Yates. “The name still doesn’t ring a bell to me, but there’s an old camp way down the lake. It’s been looking abandoned off and on throughout the year. To be honest, it’s kind of an eyesore. I suppose it very well could be the camp you’re looking for. There are only a few camps I don’t know the owners of, and that’s one of them.”
“Can you tell me if it’s located on the right or the left? Also, is the camp painted a certain color?”
“I believe it’s on the left, and it’s a grey color with a screened porch. It sits off to the back and has a few cypress trees around it. If you don’t mind me asking, young lady, why are you looking for Mr. Yates’ camp anyway? I’ve told you before, these bayous are not a place you want to go sticking your nose around.”
“I understand, but my partner Detective Grasso was taken tonight, and we’re trying to find him.”
“Is that the fella you were with the last time you came down here?”
“One and the same.”
“You think this Mr. Yates took him?”
“No, actually Mr. Yates has been dead for three years. We just recently discovered he was from Franklin but owned a camp here in Lake Decade. The person using the camp is tied to the killer we’ve recently arrested, Mr. John Broussard.”
In an almost shocked voice, he says, “The man who was trying to kill you. Girl, you have a great deal of bad luck, don’t you?”
