Sins For Truths (The Case Files of Logan St. Martin Book 2)

by S. L. Hebert

  “Mr. Billiot, we think the person who took my partner is using him to get to me. She claims I’m going to pay if I don’t tell the truth about my past. The problem is, according to my therapist, I’ve managed to block out something tragic that happened to me as a child. I know you knew my father back in the day, and I’m wondering if you happen to know anything that could maybe help jog my memory.”

  For a moment he says nothing, staring at me with haunting eyes. I stand face to face with him, frozen. Unsure of whether he’ll even attempt to help me, I patiently wait. Inhaling a deep breath, I watch his jaw tighten up as he goes on to say, “I’m not sure I can help you…you say all this is happening because of something that happened in your past?”

  “Yes. Please know I wouldn’t put you in this predicament if I had any other way of finding out what happened.”

  “Why didn’t you ask your father?”

  “Mr. Billiot, my father is located up north in a home. He suffers from Alzheimer’s and doesn’t even know what day it is. I don’t want to ask my mother because she’s been put through enough in her life. I’m begging you, can you help me?”

  In a whisper, I hear him ask, “Where are you headed when you leave from here?”

  “We’re going to put a call in to water patrol and go check out the camp.”

  “I figured as much. Listen carefully, dear, I need you to tell your friend over there exactly what I told you about where the camp is. Then when you get to the dock, I want you to find a way to ditch your new partner and meet me in the boat shed that’s located on the left side of the marina. Are you following me?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what’s going on, Mr. Billiot, but I think it’s best if you leave the police work to us.”

  “You don’t understand, young lady, and I don’t have time to explain everything in detail. What I’ll tell you is, trust no one. Not even your new partner over there, or anyone else you work with for that matter. You’re surrounded by people who would rather kill you than allow you to regain your memory. You need to understand, the only way I’ll help is if you do as I say. If you should waver from my directions, I’ll leave you to your own demise, understand?”

  Instinctively, I find my hands resting on my stomach as I say, “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good, now go on and go. Try to remember to act as if everything is going the way it’s supposed to. You don’t want to tip off the wrong person; you may not get a second chance to try to save your partner or yourself.”

  “Understood.” Before turning to walk away, in a raised voice loud enough for Detective Richard to hear I say as I’m walking away, “Thank you, Mr. Billiot, you’ve been very helpful.”

  Once back in the vehicle, I swiftly turn to Richard and inform him that Mr. Billiot gave up the description of the camp and the location. I inform him that it’s located in Lake Decade, down towards the end, giving him a detailed description of the outer appearance, the same way Mr. Billiot told it to me. Once I’m finished, Detective Richard places a call in to Lieutenant Clark, letting him know we’re headed to the marina, and asks him to notify water patrol and have them meet us at the dock.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, I listen to Richard talk to the lieutenant while driving. I decide to use this time to check my weapon and make sure it’s loaded and ready in case I need it. After I’m finished, I remain silent, hoping Detective Richard’s buying my story and doesn’t ask any further questions. With my nerves rattled and tethered, I’m not sure if I can stand to hold it together long enough to withstand an extensive line of questioning. Looking out my window, I can tell we have a good ten minutes or so before we make it to the landing. Leaning my head back on the seat, I attempt to pray and meditate on the mission I’m about to embark upon.

  With my eyes closed, I try my best to focus, but memories of long ago begin to drift through my mind. Visions of the water, accompanied with the aroma of the Louisiana bayous begin to take over my senses. In the distance, I can hear a voice low and muffled. At first, I’m unable to make out the words, but I know the sound. It’s my father; he’s speaking, but I can’t figure out what he’s saying. Along with his voice is an image of a little girl with long, blonde, dingy hair. She appears to be crying and looking at something, but what? Why can’t I remember? Inhaling slower and deeper, I try to conjure up the memory again. It’s the same as all the times before, appearing in black and white, only this time I can see the red, and lots of it. All over the gravel on the ground, as the image of the little blonde-haired girl watches the blood seep into the rocks, I can feel the cool breeze blowing off the water. Between the sounds of sea gulls, I hear my father’s voice saying, “You did good, baby girl, you did good.” As the sense of panic rises from within, I force my eyes open to find Detective Richard watching me out of the corner of his eye. Not saying a word, I take notice that we’re arriving at the marina.

  As we pull in the landing parking lot, I begin to glance around, seeing it’s packed with cars. I didn’t consider the fact that the marina’s store turns into a bar after the sun goes down. I’ve heard rumors about all the prostitution and drugs that flow through this place. Looking now, it’s a far cry from the quiet little store you see during the daytime. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. I can easily come up with an excuse to evade Detective Richard when the time comes, enabling myself to get lost in the crowd, and then meet up with Mr. Billiot. The only thing to do now is buy myself some time and work out a plan.

  Michael

  I’m awakened by a throbbing pain piercing through the back of my head, quickly realizing I’ve been moved. No longer am I in the center of the room. Glancing around, I recognize I’m at the far end of the living area, well away from the door. I seem to be propped up against the wall in a sitting position. My hands and feet are cuffed, but not bound together. Subconsciously, I begin to feel the heaviness of my eyelids, and through my fogginess I envision they’re now able to close. All the while, I’m telling myself it’s just a dream.

  As I feel myself drifting off again, I see a vision of this little girl wearing a white summery dress with dirty blonde hair running through a field filled with wild flowers. I can hear her start to sing as she twirls around dancing. She’s truly a sight to behold as I try to savor the moment and hang on to the image, allowing it to take me to a place of peace. I begin to focus in on her face, quickly recognizing her eyes; they’re the same shape as her mother’s, except hers are light hazel, a mixture of green and blue. She’s managed to get a perfect blend of both our eyes. For a split second, our eyes lock and I feel as if she’s looking into my soul. Instantly, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I must die tonight to save her, it will all be worth it, and I allow myself to welcome the thought of sacrificing my life for hers as she slowly fades off into the distance.

  Watching as my beautiful dream disappears, I can hear the muffled sound of an older female crying. Unable to see who it is, I try with all my might to focus in on the words. I’m only able to make out some of what’s being said. From what I can make of it, she keeps saying, “I’m here, Daddy, I’m here, wake up.” My mind starts racing from fear...is this my little girl, all grown up, trying to tell me to fight? I don’t know, I can’t see. The cries begin to get louder and louder as she begs, “Don’t go, Daddy, please don’t go!”

  Everything in me screams for me to fight. Making another last-ditch effort to open my eyes, I begin to see a shadow kneeling on the wooden floor. I automatically think I’m still in the nightmare, due to the lack of seeing any color. Everything appears like shadows. As I manage to blink my eyes a few times, the room and the image become clearer into focus. The female on the floor isn’t my daughter; it’s my kidnapper. She seems to be kneeling in the center of the room on her knees, as if she was praying. Her hands are lifted to the sky, almost as if she’s trying to summon down the almighty God himself, only she’s begging and pleading with her father, a man who from what I can see isn’t here. She’s so distraught and caught up in the mome
nt, she hasn’t noticed I can see and move my eyes. Through the throbbing pain, I silently force myself to close my eyes again and continue to listen, hoping she’ll disclose whatever it is she’s hell bent on making Logan pay for.

  It’s taking every ounce of my energy to sort out what’s real and what’s an illusion. Fighting through the haze, I reassure myself that what I’m hearing is in fact happening. I tell myself that if my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, then my kidnapper appears to be mentally unstable, making my situation worse than I could have imagined. It’s one thing to try to reason with a person who’s of sound mind, body, and soul, but it’s another to try to talk to someone who could fly off the edge at any given moment. From the sound of it, my kidnapper may be unraveling right before my eyes. This forces me to try and figure out a way to get out of this, knowing I may not have time to wait for Logan and the department to arrive to save me.

  As the sobs start to diminish, I suddenly hear a pounding sound. At first, I’m confused as to whether it’s all in my head or real. Noticing it’s continuing with relentless force, I attempt to slowly force my eyes open again. To my surprise, I’m able to see clearer. My kidnapper is pounding on the wooden floor with her bare fist as she proclaims to avenge her father’s death, saying, “She killed you, Daddy! She killed you, and I’ll make her pay for what she’s done!”

  Allowing her words to register, I silently take in everything she’s saying. Why would Logan have killed her father, and when did this happen? No one has ever breathed a word about it. Was it not known? Is my kidnapper right, or is she looking for someone to blame and decided it’s Logan? I’ve heard how the bayous hold secrets, could this be one of them? There must be a logical explanation to all of this, but what? Closing my eyes, I tell myself the only chance I have of survival is to pretend as if I’m still sedated.

  Some time passes, and I’m not sure if I’ve blacked out again or not. I’m brought back to the present by the sounds of footsteps shuffling across the floor. Out of nowhere, a stinging sensation starts burning across my cheek, and I hear my captor start demanding, “Wake up!” Then with another slap across the other side of my face, she screams again, “Wake up, filthy pig! I know the sedative has started wearing off and you can hear me!”

  Not wanting to incur any further rage from her, I begin to slowly open my eyes. With a smile on her face, she says, “Nap time’s over, Detective Grasso. I want to make sure you’re fully awake when I take away the person you love. The same way she took away the one person I loved.”

  Now, being forced to show that the drugs have begun to wear off, I try to move my mouth to speak. My fist attempt was unsuccessful, only being able to slightly get my tongue to go forward. Trying again, I slowly part my lips, and as I try to speak, a hissing noise is released.

  Devious laughter fills the room, then she goes on to say, “Don’t worry, Detective, I’m a nurse, and I’m fully aware of the effects the sedative has on the human body. It’s of no use for you to try and fight, I will not allow you the chance to stop my plans.”

  Pacing across the floor, she continues speaking. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am…my name is Susan Verdin, the daughter of Timothy and Rosetta Verdin. I’m sure you’re wondering why this is of importance. Well, it’s your lucky day, Detective, because I’m going to tell you a little story. It just so happens to be filled with all the gory details of the wrongful murder of my father at the hands of your partner.”

  “You see, all my life I was forced to listen to the lies floating around this God-awful town, making my father out to be a monster that deserved to die, but it’s the whispers on the bayous that have placed me on a path to truth.” With a glimmer in her eye, she says, “I bet you didn’t know these muddy waters tend to release the secrets held by so many every time a strong wind blows. What many don’t realize is, I was there on that chilly night; I wasn’t supposed to be, but I was. My mom had to work at the bar and left me at home with my father. He said he had to take care of some business and we were going to meet a couple of his friends. When we arrived at the landing, he told me to take a nap on the back seat, he wouldn’t be long.” As she pauses, across the room I can see the distant look in her eyes as she goes on. “I heard arguing, causing me to creep up to the window, and that’s when I saw her. She was no older than I was, holding a gun in her hands. Till this day, I can’t recall what my father was saying; only that he feared the two men he was pleading with.”

  Hesitating only for a second as her eyes connect with mine, she says, “That little bitch shot him. She had the gun raised up towards my father, and out of nowhere the loud sound of a gunshot rang through the air. I watched in horror as my father collapsed to the ground and she dropped the gun. I remember it like it was yesterday; my entire life has been filled with the terrorizing memory of that dreadful night. Not knowing what to do, I buried my head underneath my blanket and cried until I fell asleep, only waking when my mother pulled me out of the back of the truck. After talking to the police, she took me home. Later, she told me my father attacked a little girl and in self-defense she killed him.” With a light chuckle, she continues. “I tried to tell her they were wrong, but no one would believe me. I knew my father, and there was no way he could hurt a child. She murdered my father and then lied about it, and tonight I will avenge my father’s death.”

  I listened to her tale without uttering a sound. When she was finished, I’m left with the feelings of disbelief and shock. Could Logan have really killed her father, and if so, why? There had to be a good reason for her to have pulled the trigger. And who gave her the weapon in the first place? Something doesn’t add up with this story.

  After a few moments pass, I attempt to speak. On my first attempt, my voice comes out in a whisper, mainly from my throat being dry. It was loud enough for my abductor to hear me. I watch as she turns to face me, but before she can make another move, I try to speak again. This time, my voice is louder as I manage to say, “There has to be some mistake.”

  “There’s no mistaking what I saw, Detective.” Grabbing the bottle of solution off the counter, along with the white rag, she swiftly walks over to me, saying, “Time for you to go back to sleep.” Unable to stop her, she again covers my face, and all goes dark.

  Logan

  As Detective Richard and I stand on the wharf waiting on water patrol to arrive, I contemplate how I’m going to get away from him long enough to make my way over to the other side of the landing area by the boat sheds. I could simply say I have to use the restroom, which would require me to go into the bar. There’s only one problem with that, what if Mr. Billiot hasn’t made his way here yet? By me leaving Richard stranded too early, I could end up blowing my one chance to get away. I need to think fast; it won’t be long before water patrol arrives to pick us up.

  After a few minutes pass, I find myself now peering out over the water, looking towards the marsh grass growing across the way. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the glimmer of a light. It was only for a brief second, but it was enough to get my attention. Looking to Richard, who seems to be preoccupied on his phone again, I take another look out over the water, and it only takes a moment before I see the flicker of light again, this time skimming across, and I follow it. Quickly, I can see it’s coming from the back side of the marina. Knowing it’s my cue, I abruptly tap Richard on the shoulder and whisper to him that I’m going to the restroom before we take off. Half-paying attention, he nods his head and I scurry off as if I’m going to the bar.

  Approaching the screen door, the music is blaring loud enough that the patrons are having to yell over one another to where they can be heard from the outside. Glancing back over my shoulder, I spot two water patrol boats slowly approaching the wharf. Seeing Richard still has his back towards me, I pass up the door and continue around the balcony to the other side of the marina. Taking the stairs on the backside, I mettle my way through the darkness in the direction of the boat sheds.

  It takes me only a minute to fi
nd the one with Mr. Billiot in it. I easily follow the humming sound of the boat engine. Without looking up, he instantly says, “It took you long enough. And to think, I’m the old dog in all this. I suggest you hurry and climb in before your partner comes looking for you.”

  “Water patrol just arrived. We don’t have much time.”

  “Look under the front deck in the cubbyhole. I have a few rain jackets. Find one and cover up in a ball on the floor of the deck. That way, if they should happen to shine a light our way, you won’t be spotted.”

  I do as I’m told, all the while hearing the ropes that once bound us to the wharf being thrown into the boat, landing on the floor. As I lie in a ball covered in oversized slicker jacket, I feel the rocking motion of the water begin as we take off, feeling almost as if I’m holding my breath, waiting to be stopped.

  After what seems like forever, I hear Mr. Billiot’s voice over the engine. “You can get up now, the coast is clear.”

  Upon standing, I instinctively begin to look out over the water, trying to assess where we’re heading. At the trailer, he pointedly told me the camp was located on the left, so why are we going towards the right of the lake? From the looks of it, we’re about to enter Sabine Pass. As I’m turning to question our direction, I can hear him holler over the loud engine, “I told you to trust no one.” Cutting down the motor, leaving only the humming lullaby lingering in the air, he continues. “Let me rephrase that; what I meant to say is, I trust no one, and neither should you.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To Mr. Yates’ camp. It’s located just down yonder.”

  “You lied earlier. I thought you didn’t know where the camp was located?”

  “Child, you need to pay attention. Didn’t I just finish telling you that I trust no one? It’s how I’ve managed to stay alive all these years. The only reason I’m helping you now is because I was friends with your father, and since he can’t help you out of this mess, I think it’s only right that I step up and do my part.”