London Carter Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

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  DEPUTIES TO TESTIFY IN FEDERAL COURT TODAY

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  There was a caption beneath the photographs: Top Row: Anthony Landry, Trevor Abbott, Matt Garcia, Michael Theriot, Martin Thomas and Tyrone Gibbs; Bottom Row: Carmella Vizier, Lawrence Doucet, Ronald Day, Calvin Burke, Justin Wainwright and Wesley Guidry.

  The only commander not listed was Captain Carl Boutin—the commander of the detention center. I scanned the pictures. They were all younger, slimmer, had more hair and—

  I suddenly froze. Abbott, Landry and Wainwright’s pictures were crossed out. This was the hit list!

  CHAPTER 30

  “The date on the clipping is February third, 1992,” Gina said. “The complaint number on the burnt document was from 1991. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  I nodded and walked back to the desk, sifting through the pile of newspapers until I found the earliest date—September 7, 1991. There on the front page, above the fold, was what we’d all been looking for…a motive for the sniper killings. I read the story with mouth agape, heart pounding. When I reached the end of page one, I hurried and flipped to page five, where it continued. When I finished the article, I slowly shook my head, then handed the paper to Gina. “This is it.”

  As Gina read, I heard boots pounding along the hallway outside the door, drawing nearer. I palmed my pistol and pulled the door open—

  “Whoa there, tiger!” It was Detective Sally Piatkowski. “It’s just your friendly neighborhood detectives coming to offer a hand with this mess.”

  Detective Melvin Ford walked up behind her.

  “What’s going on back at the scene?” I asked.

  “Lieutenant Chiasson’s been on the phone with Sheriff Burke,” Sally explained, “and Sheriff Burke put him in charge of the detective division. He’s the new captain.”

  “The way they’ve been dropping,” Melvin blurted, “I think I would’ve turned the promotion down. Being a captain around here is more dangerous than tongue kissing a cobra.”

  We all snickered, and Sally continued, “Captain Chiasson has crime scene teams at each of the locations and they’re both almost done processing them. There were no real surprises at the scenes. We”—Sally shoved her thumb in Melvin’s direction—“went to the motor pool and searched that ex-cop’s car, but we didn’t find anything worth noting.”

  I stepped back so they could enter the office. When they were inside, I closed the door behind them and pointed to the article. “Check this shit out.”

  Their mouths dropped open in unison as they realized what they were looking at. “That guy in the park—Wesley what’s-his-name—is he the killer?” Melvin asked.

  I shook my head. “He was a target.”

  “So was Captain Theriot.” Sally looked at me and then turned back toward the clipping. “You and Captain Theriot helped the killer move one step closer to accomplishing his goals.” She traced a crisscross pattern over Theriot’s picture with her index finger and then did the same over Guidry’s picture. “That’s five down and only seven left to go.”

  “I bet he’s saving Sheriff Burke for last,” Melvin mused.

  “Yeah, well, he’ll never make it to him because”—I nodded toward Gina, who was reading the articles—“we now know his motive and we’ll be able to identify him soon.”

  “What is the—” Sally began, but was cut off by Gina’s outburst.

  “They killed a baby?” Her face was red with rage. “It’s no wonder they’re being gunned down.”

  That got Melvin and Sally’s immediate attention and they scrambled to read over Gina’s shoulder. Gina surrendered the paper when she was done and turned to me. “How in the hell was this not the very first thing that came to their minds when this shit started happening?”

  “I have no clue,” I said. “But it explains why they’re barricaded in the main office, scared to death to show their faces.”

  Sally’s mouth dropped open as she read. “I never heard about this!”

  “I was in high school when this happened,” Melvin said. “I remember my mom and dad talking about it.”

  None of the earlier stories mentioned the names of the family or the officers involved, but when I got to the newspaper articles that covered the preliminary court proceedings, I caught a break that sent chills down my back. I read it quickly at first and then went back over it more carefully. When I’d reached the end of the article, I sighed. “You were wrong, Gina.”

  “About what?” Gina had moved to the filing cabinets where she and Sally were digging through one of the drawers. Neither of them even looked up at me.

  “James five-sixteen is not a Bible verse.” I now had the attention of the whole room. I paused, allowing that revelation to sink in.

  Gina had stopped what she was doing and she now waved her hand impatiently. “Well, what the hell is it? You know I hate to wait for shit, so hurry and tell me.”

  “The house they hit was located at five-sixteen Cottonwood Street. The family that lived in the house…guess what their last name was?”

  Gina stared blankly. “What? What is it?”

  “James?” Sarah blurted, her eyes widening as realization set in.

  “Bingo,” I replied.

  Gina’s mouth dropped almost to the floor. “No kidding?”

  “James five-sixteen—big as shit.” I turned the article so they could read for themselves. “The dad’s name is Lenny James and the mom’s name is Michelle. Wait a minute—Lenny James…” I scratched my head, scanning the recesses of my memory. “For some reason, that name’s familiar to me. Shit, I can’t figure out why I know it.”

  “You’ll remember tonight when you’re sitting on the toilet and not even thinking about it anymore,” Melvin said.

  I shook my head to clear it. “Anyway, this is the reason the captains are being killed, and there’s no way in hell they didn’t know what this shit was about. They’ve been holding out on us. The night we found Wainwright’s body and that message in the field… From that very moment they knew what this was about.”

  “But why would they keep that from us?” Gina wanted to know. “I find it hard to believe they would’ve intentionally kept this quiet if it meant more of them being killed. This case is their best chance of stopping the killings, so why not tell us about it? I just don’t think they realized what it stood for. After all, it was twenty years ago, and they’ve done a lot of shit since then.”

  I considered her point, as I began reading over the news articles that detailed Sheriff Burke’s testimony in federal court. “What if they lied in court? What if the lady’s the one telling the truth? What if there’s a lot more to the story than what the sheriff and all testified about?”

  Gina scowled. “You think they’d commit perjury and risk going to prison? That’s a hell of a risk.”

  “Unless telling the truth would land them a longer prison sentence,” I said. “After all, Wesley Guidry did say he had some original documents that would prove what really happened that night.” I hefted the newspaper from September 7, 1991. “There’s no doubt this is the night he was talking about, and I’m betting those documents would’ve burned the sheriff’s ass—or at least Captain Theriot’s ass.”

  The room went silent. I thought I heard a few gulps as I spelled out my suspicions. Finally, Melvin spoke up, but it was barely over a whisper. “Are you accusing the sheriff and his entire command staff of being involved in a cover-up? Those are serious allegations against the man who signs your paycheck.”

  “It’s a stamp,” I said.

  Melvin’s face twisted in confusion. “What’s a stamp?”

  “His signature on the check—it’s not his signature. It’s a stamp. He doesn’t even see the checks. His secretary stamps his signature on all the checks.” I waved my hand to dismiss the issue. “But that’s irrelevant. What is relevant—and quite telling—is the fact Captain Theriot murdered a man who claimed to have a document revealing the truth behind
these sniper killings. If that truth is worth killing for, it’s got to be bad…really bad.”

  No one spoke for a while. We all stood there staring at each other. Gina finally broke the silence. “Let’s say you’re right. What do we do? How do we take down the chief law enforcement officer of the parish, with absolutely no evidence?”

  “Good question,” I admitted.

  “Couldn’t we be fired just for talking like this?” Sally asked. “I heard the sheriff fired a couple of deputies a few years ago because they were complaining about something stupid—like the stripes on the squad cars—and they said the sheriff didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “That’s true,” Melvin said. “I worked with one of the guys. He was a good cop, but the sheriff didn’t care. One of the brass overheard them complaining and told the sheriff. He fired their asses on the spot.”

  The room went quiet. Sally and Melvin stared at each other, their faces slightly paler. Gina’s jaw was set. She stared directly at me, her eyes unwavering. “I was looking for a job when I got this one,” she said. “If he’s dirty, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  I grinned. “I love the way you think.” I turned to Sally and Melvin. “What about y’all? Are y’all in or out? If we find out the sheriff and his command staff committed a crime, are y’all going to stand up for what’s right? Will y’all move against them with us?”

  Sally swallowed hard. “We’re his deputies and we get our powers from him, so what exactly can we do? Who would believe us over him and his captains and majors? They’ve got more clout than we’ll ever have.”

  “Could be what the killer was thinking,” I said. “He probably figured his only real chance at justice was to start assassinating them. But we need to show him there’s another way. If we uncover evidence proving the sheriff is involved in some sort of crime and cover up, we’ll take him into custody and contact the district attorney.”

  “What if they resist?” Sally wanted to know. “What if Sheriff Burke tells some of his more than three hundred deputies to take us into custody? What then?”

  “We’ll have to keep this quiet and take him by surprise.” I studied their faces one at a time, the severity of the situation casting worry lines on all of them. “We can count on Lieutenant Riggs and the entire sniper team to help us out, and I have a few buddies on the SWAT team who’ll stand with us if I ask.”

  “Lieutenant—I mean Captain—Chiasson’s above board,” Gina offered. “He’ll assist us.”

  Melvin rubbed his face. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. This is crazy! Do you realize what you’re saying, London?”

  “I know full well what I’m saying.” I looked into his eyes. “If we develop evidence that proves Sheriff Burke has been involved in the commission of a felony, I’m going to arrest him…and everyone who stands in my way. You’d better think long and hard about what you do next. When the earth opens up, you don’t want to be standing on the wrong side of the crack.”

  Melvin took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. “Okay, if you find evidence—convincing evidence—that proves Sheriff Burke is dirty, I’m in. But…I won’t risk my job over suppositions or theories, only hard evidence.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “I’m in, too,” Sally said.

  I tossed the newspaper to the desktop. “Great. Can y’all finish up here? I want to head to the hospital and check on Bethany. And I want to run this by her. I’m sure she’ll have some thoughts on what to do…how to approach the sheriff and all.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Gina said hurriedly.

  I shook my head. “I need you to stay here and spearhead the search. You and I were first in and made the discovery, so it’s best if one of us hangs around. You’ve also been involved early on in the case, so you know what to look for.”

  “Why don’t you stay here and I go to the hospital?” she suggested.

  I held out my hand, ignoring her comment. “I’ll need your car.”

  “How am I going to get back to the office?”

  “Melvin or Sally can bring you to the park to pick up Bethany’s car.”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “Your keys, please,” I insisted.

  Gina bristled, as she dug her keys out of her tight jeans. She flung them at me and turned back to the stack of newspapers, muttering under her breath. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought she said something about me going screw myself.

  CHAPTER 31

  Bethany’s eyes were closed, face relaxed, hair spilled across her pillow. The bed sheet had been pulled up to her shoulders and a thick bandage bulged from under her hospital gown, enclosing the wound on her neck. I walked into the dimly lit room, where medical equipment hummed quietly, and sidled up to the side of her bed. I leaned over and brushed my fingers across her forehead. Her eyes opened and she recoiled in brief horror.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed the words. “It’s you.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  She touched her chest and sighed. “I don’t know, but you scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry about that.” I pulled a chair close to the side of her bed, dropped in it and leaned my forearms on the bedrail. “There’s been a major break in the case that we need to discuss.”

  Bethany pulled herself more upright. “What is it? Hurry…tell me.”

  “Twenty years ago, on September seventh, 1991, the sheriff and all the current commanders—except for Captain Boutin—were involved in a drug raid where a baby was killed. They had—”

  “How do you know that? Where’d this information come from?”

  “Wesley Guidry’s house. We found a stack of newspaper articles dealing with the incident, along with a hit list taped on the door to his office. He’d crossed out the pictures of Wainwright, Landry and Abbott.”

  “Who in the hell is Wesley Guidry?”

  “He’s the dead guy in the park…the guy Captain Theriot killed.”

  “Do you think he’s the sniper?”

  “Definitely not. I think he was trying to blow the lid on a cover up.”

  “Cover up? What kind of cover up?”

  “I’m not sure, but”—I raised my eyebrows—“I was hoping you could figure it out for me. After all, you’re the brains of the operation.”

  “I’ll try. Tell me about the raid.”

  “Sheriff Burke—a narcotics agent at the time—was heading up a drug case and had sent an undercover officer into a house to purchase drugs. Later that day, he prepared a search warrant and a judge signed it. Burke requested the SWAT team’s assistance in executing the search warrant because it was a no-knock warrant. They approached the house in the early morning hours on the next day—the paper said it was two o’clock AM—and they crept through the front yard and made it to the front door with no incident. One of the officers crashed the door down with the battering ram and the other officers filed into the house.

  “According to court testimony, one of the officers tossed a flash bang into the back bedroom, where the suspect was known to hang out with his semi-automatic rifle and several handguns, and, at that point, all hell broke loose.”

  I took a deep breath, continued. “According to the wife’s statement to the media later that morning, the flash bang landed in a baby crib, where her three-month-old baby was sleeping, and it went off, killing the baby. She said her husband jumped up out of bed and tried to rush to the baby crib, but one of the officers cracked him across the skull with the butt of his rifle. When the husband tried to defend himself against what he believed to be a home invasion, one of the officers fired at him with what she described as machine gun fire. He died at the scene along with the baby.”

  “How’d he try to defend himself?” Bethany asked.

  “According to the wife, he was unarmed and he simply tried to push what he thought was an intruder out the door…and they killed him for it.”

  “What about the wife?” B
ethany asked. “What happened to her?”

  “She was arrested and charged with possession with intent to distribute cocaine, resisting an officer and attempted murder of a police officer.”

  “Attempted murder? What did she do to warrant that?”

  “According to the officers at the scene, the husband brandished a gun and they had to shoot him in self-defense. When the husband went down, the wife picked up the gun and took a shot at them, so that’s where the attempted murder came from.”

  “Why didn’t they shoot her, too, if she took a shot at them?”

  “That question was actually posed to them at a hearing and they—actually, it was Sheriff Burke who answered it—testified that other officers were in the crossfire, so they were forced to tackle her to the ground.”

  Bethany leaned back and bit her lower lip. “So, the cops are saying the husband had a gun and the wife is saying he didn’t?”

  “Right, but that’s not all. The wife claimed she never did drugs in her life and neither did her husband. She said she’d never even seen cocaine and she offered to take a drug test. The newspaper reporter described her statement as a ‘tearful and heart-wrenching plea for justice.’”

  “This statement was made before her arrest?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “She made it to the media during the suspect walk. I think they probably regretted walking her out in front of the media because she began running off at the mouth and they were unable to shut her up.”

  “So, she denied selling drugs to the undercover agent?”

  “Not only does she deny the allegation, but she says they royally screwed up by hitting the wrong house. She claims the house they were supposed to hit was the one across the street.”

  “Was there any validity to that claim?”

  “The reporter did some digging and found that the police had been called out to the house across the street a dozen or so times for various complaints—including suspicion of drug activity. So, it looks like the wife might’ve been telling the truth.” I took a deep breath. “Of course, that didn’t do her much good. A grand jury indicted her on all counts and she was held in jail on a one million dollar bond.”