by BJ Bourg
What the hell is he doing? Is he toying with me? Is he just standing there waiting for me to run out of breath?
Orville began to tremble from straining to hold his breath. He felt lightheaded. Knowing he would drown if he passed out, and unable to fight it any longer, he finally tilted his head forward and wheezed loudly, sucking in the much-needed air. It entered through his mouth and filled his lungs, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He exhaled and took in more air, allowing his eyes to fly open and take in his surroundings.
Because of the dark shadows and his jerky movement, it was difficult to discern one shape from another, but he noticed a pair of thick legs splashing through the water. They headed straight for him and he gasped when the muzzle of a rifle made rough contact with his forehead, nearly giving him whiplash. Although he hadn’t felt the need to urinate, his crotch area grew instantly warm as his bladder involuntarily emptied. He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared to meet his brother and grandfather in the afterlife.
CHAPTER 34
“What the hell happened to my men?”
Orville peed in his pants again—this time in relief—when he heard Mule’s voice calling down from above. Still shaken, he allowed his eyes to open. Mule was clad in his ghillie suit and he wasn’t alone. Although the other two agents were also ghillied up, Orville recognized the shorter, squatter bush as Pit Bull and the taller one as Panther. Pit Bull was squatting over Taz.
“He’s gone, Mule,” Pit Bull said. “They’re all gone.”
Mule shoved Orville’s head back with the muzzle of his rifle again. “Answer me, damn it! What in God’s name happened to my men?”
Orville lifted his trembling hands over his head. “I swear to God, I don’t know what happened. They just started dropping all around me.”
Pit Bull tromped through the water and stood beside Mule. Although Orville couldn’t see his face, he knew the man was glaring down at him. “Why are you still alive? Is this the work of your family?”
Orville just sat there in the cool water trembling, not knowing what to say. How could he explain why he was alive when he didn’t even know the reason?
“Answer him,” Mule ordered, his finger wrapping around the trigger, “or I’m going to dust your ass right here!”
“I…I don’t know why. I was just walking with them and they started dropping. That’s all I know.” Orville stared desperately from one masked face to the other. “Please, you’ve got to believe me. I don’t know why he spared my life.”
Panther, who had been scanning their surroundings, said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Mule’s voice was dripping with anger. “We’ve got a piece of shit coward to kill.”
Orville sank to his back and shivered as the water wrapped its cool hands around his shoulders and chest. “Please, don’t.”
“Not you, asshole,” Mule said. They were the last words he ever spoke. As he turned toward Panther, a chunk of bone flew out the back of his skull and a mist of blood and brain matter showered over Orville.
“What the—?” Pit Bull’s voice was cut short by the sniper’s bullet and he collapsed on top of Orville in the water.
Orville stifled a scream and lay there trembling, feeling as though his heart would explode in his chest. He could see Panther running in the direction of the shots, firing his own rifle as he ran. He didn’t make it ten yards before his legs went limp and he dumped headfirst into a thick cypress tree. He sank to the ground in a lifeless heap, and Orville felt all hope drain from his body at the sight of the last agent dying.
Orville could hardly breathe with Pit Bull’s weight on him, but he dared not move because Pit Bull’s body was the only thing between him and the sniper. As he lay there waiting—listening for the slightest sound that would indicate the sniper was heading his way—he felt something warm and wet dripping on his cheek. It slid down his face and across his lips. He tried to blow it away while keeping his lips pursed, but some of the liquid seeped into his mouth. He gagged when he recognized the metallic taste of blood and he tried to move his face away from the source. He slipped his head under the water and rinsed his mouth out, praying darkness would fall soon so he could escape back to his house.
Other than the steady pat-pat of the dripping blood, the swamps were graveyard quiet—unusually so. Orville found himself worrying about his family. Why had Mule left his family unguarded? Their weapons were locked up and they were defenseless. Wait a minute!
A sense of panic suddenly filled his chest. What if Mule had made Quentin lead them to the scene of Norris’ murder? Orville hadn’t seen Quentin with them, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been out of his field of vision. He needed to get home. He needed to find out if his family was okay.
The woods were dark enough now that it would be nearly impossible for the sniper to see him from more than a dozen yards. Hell, he could hardly see his own hand an inch from his face. Time to move.
The shots had come from the south and hit the men high, so all he had to do was stay low and get to the other side of the windblown tree, keeping it directly behind him. Straining with all of his might, he managed to push Pit Bull off of him and to the side. He started to glide out of the waterhole, but stopped, an idea suddenly occurring to him. He reached under Pit Bull’s body and felt around in the water, not stopping until he felt the stock of the rifle. Giving it a hard tug, he jerked it out from under the FBI agent and shook it to clear away the water. He remembered seeing it in Pit Bull’s possession earlier and knew it was a bolt-action rifle topped with an expensive scope.
Without wasting any more time, Orville crawled clumsily around the root ball of the windblown tree and headed north toward his family’s home. He began crawling slow and stealthily at first, but he started to feel the weight of the sniper’s crosshairs on the back of his head and fear pushed him forward, faster and faster, until he was up on his feet and running at full speed. It wasn’t fast by most standards, but it was record pace for his large frame.
Orville’s legs screamed in pain and his lungs begged him to stop, but his fear of dying was too strong and very real. He stumbled often and even fell a few times, but he refused to give up. He’d drag himself back to his feet and push forward, begging his tired legs not to give out on him.
After what seemed like hours, Orville caught a glimmer of light in the distance. It was coal dark in the swamps, but he recognized it as being their porch light. With a yelp of joy, he lumbered along, willing himself to sprint the last hundred yards, or so. When he reached the back steps, he collapsed onto them, gasping for breath. He tossed the rifle onto the landing and beat the wooden boards with his fists. As he did so, he hollered for his family.
CHAPTER 35
Dawn and Wellman had joined Patrick and me in the interview room and we were surveying a map of the island.
“Are you sure he’ll stick to the island?” I asked.
Patrick nodded. “He’s like a bear when it comes to his territory. He picks his range and he sticks to it. He’ll kill a man, woman, and child within that zone and then he’ll disappear for a year, or so.”
“There aren’t many children on the island,” I said. “That should narrow his options and increase our chance of catching him.”
“You’re not about to use my grandkids as bait,” Wellman said. “I’m going to get them the hell out of there as soon as we get back.”
“He’ll be waiting for you,” Patrick said. “The best thing we can do is keep your kids locked indoors and set up counter surveillance. He has to move in and out of position to see the camp, so we can get him then.”
I tapped my finger on the map, thinking. Finally, I shook my head. “If you’re right and he’s looking for a kid to kill, we’ve got to alert the public and shut down Devil’s Lake. That place is flooded with people—men, women, and tons of children—every evening and all day on weekends.”
“If you do that,” Patrick argued, “he’ll just up and leave,
and we’ll never catch him. He’ll wait a year and pop up hundreds of miles from here and more people will have to die. This is our one and only chance. We have the manpower to lock this island down. We can do this!”
I fixed Patrick with cold eyes. “Was that your plan all alone? Keep your client’s kids safe while letting unsuspecting parents bring their kids into Devil’s Lake to be slaughtered?”
“My plan was to take him out before he killed again.”
“How’s that working out for you?” I asked pointedly.
“You broke all of my SEAC records,” Patrick said slowly, “so I know how good you are. Between you and me and our men, we can get this bastard.”
I turned to look at Dawn, who frowned. “It’s your call, London. I’ll back whatever you decide to do.”
“I don’t want to risk a child’s life,” I said. “I’d rather him get away.”
“If he does get away, he’ll kill again. That’s a fact,” Patrick said. “Hell, he might even come back here and kill one of your family members next time. You know, out of revenge for depriving him of a child victim. Or he’ll just move to town and take out a child there. What are you going to do—tell every child in the parish to stay inside?” Patrick took a step forward, almost pleading. “Look, all we have to do is set up on the lake and make sure we get that bastard before he levels his crosshairs on a child. It’s that simple.”
“And what if we don’t?” I asked.
Patrick’s eyes turned stone cold. “The shot will give him away and his ass will be mine.”
I didn’t like it one bit and walked out of the room. I called the sheriff and gave him a quick update on what was going on. He didn’t say a word until I was done.
“Are you sure we can trust this Patrick Stanger?” he asked.
“I’m positive.”
“Okay, then. What do you propose?”
“I say we shut down the lake. If he moves on to some other location and takes out a child, that’s on him.” I sighed. “If he kills a kid on the lake and we don’t sound the alarm, that’ll be on us.”
“Consider it done.”
I hung up and walked in the office. “We’re shutting down the lake.”
“God damn it, London!” Patrick turned and punched a hole in the sheetrock. Eyes bloodshot, he faced me and shoved a finger in my chest as blood dripped from his knuckles. “If he gets away I’m coming for you! Let’s go, Mr. Boudreaux.”
The two men stormed out of the room and left Dawn and me standing there staring at each other.
“What now?” Dawn asked.
Before I could answer, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but the man sounded familiar.
“Is this Mr. Carter? London Carter?” The voice was laced with panic.
“Yeah, this is London.”
“They’re dead—all of them. That killer took every one of them out, shot them all through the head.”
“Slow down, Orville,” I said. “Who’s dead?”
“The FBI ninja guys. They came here to catch that killer, but they’re all dead. The same person who killed my brother killed all of them—blew their heads off.”
“Where are you?”
“At my camp.”
“Stay there and don’t move. Lock every door and window and close every curtain. You got it?”
“Um…yeah. Yeah, I got it.”
“Repeat what I just told you.”
“You…um…you said to lock the doors and close the curtains.”
“Now, go do it and don’t let anyone in or out of your house until I tell you it’s safe.”
“What’s going on?” Dawn’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Who was that?”
She gasped when I told her what had happened. “Wait…this sniper wiped out an entire FBI team?”
I only nodded as I searched through my contacts and called my buddy, Dave. “Come on,” I said to myself as his phone rang and rang. After about seven rings, it went to his voicemail. I left a message letting him know I’d received a report that one of their teams was in danger. When I hung up, I asked Dawn to contact the local FBI office and forward the report to them.
“Where are you going?” A look of concern had spread across her face.
“I’m going to the island.”
“Alone?”
“No.” Without waiting for her to mount a protest, I rushed out of the office and into the night, jumping into my truck. As I headed to the boat launch, I called the sheriff and told him what was going on.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to end this.”
I then got Dean, Jerry, and Ray on three-way call and told them what was going on. “Get geared up and meet me at the boat launch as soon as you can.”
“How long are we going to be out there?” Jerry asked.
“Pack enough beef jerky and water for a week. If it takes longer, we’ll just have to—”
A car pulled right out in front of me and I had to quickly smash the brake pedal and swerve into the left lane, nearly losing my phone in the process. I cursed and jerked back into the right lane, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. I flipped the switch for my lights and siren and continued on, driving so fast the truck rocked from side to side.
“What’s going on?” Dean asked.
“Nothing—just get to the launch as soon as you can.”
I drove at breakneck speed for another twenty minutes before I saw the old pickup truck about a mile ahead of me. I smashed the accelerator a little harder, calling upon my truck to give it everything it had. It didn’t disappoint, and I was soon about to drive right up the ass of the old pickup. The passenger turned to look out the back glass and my headlights lit up Patrick’s face. He mouthed something to Wellman and I saw the taillights brighten.
I pressed my own brake pedal and eased off, following them to the shoulder of the highway. Patrick was first out the vehicle and he reached the back of the pickup just as I did.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Did that bastard strike again?”
I told him what we’d learned from Orville Simoneaux. “I could use your help, Patrick.”
His eyes lit up and he nodded his head. “Say the word and I’m there.”
“My guys are going to meet me at the boat launch as soon as they get their gear together.” I turned toward Wellman, who had just walked up. “Do you mind giving me and my men a ride to your place? I need to get them set up on the lake while it’s still dark. It’ll be safer that way and they’ll already be in position when day breaks, so they’ll be ready if the killer makes his move. It would be great if your men could offer some support.”
“Sure. Of course…anything you need.”
Even in the dark I could see Patrick’s eyes narrow. “What about you? What are you going to do while they set up?”
“I’m going check on the FBI’s team and then I’ll set up with them.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“It’ll be dangerous,” I warned. “I might not get back until daylight. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to move around in a kill zone during the daytime.”
Patrick nodded. “That’s right—you don’t. And like I said, I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER 36
No one said a word on the ride to the island. Wellman ran the boat in total darkness, keeping the motor at an idle to reduce noise. Jerry, Dean, and Ray crouched low on one side of the boat, their rifles ready, and Patrick and I did the same on the opposite side.
A cool wind blew in from the north, keeping the mosquitoes at bay, and the water lapped gently against the side of the boat. The moon was high in the sky and reflected off the surface of the water, lighting our liquid path as we snaked down the gap between the thick woodlands. The trees were dark and hovered like ominous shadows on both sides, adding to the picturesque scenery that surrounded us, and Wellman hugged one side of the bayou to keep in the shadows as best as possible.
Had I not known better,
I might’ve thought this was just another beautiful September night in the south. But I did know better and I knew very well the danger we were in. The closer we got to the pass, the more I expected to hear the splat of a bullet hitting flesh and taking away the life of one of my men. And I was not disillusioned—I knew very well the life taken could be my own.
The darkness of the trees suddenly gave way ahead of us as the bayou opened up into the lake. Hugging the shoreline, Wellman made his way toward his camp. I could feel the tension in the boat. Our heads were on swivels as we penetrated the darkness with our eyes and kept our ears perked up—watching and listening for any sign of a human’s presence. I knew better than to think the Trinity Sniper would give himself away so easily, but we had to be on high alert just in case.
I lurched gently forward as Wellman slowed the boat to a mere drift. His house was in clear view against the moonlit sky and I shook my head when I saw lights beaming from an open window upstairs. I tapped Patrick’s shoulder and pointed. I saw him shake his head and I knew he’d take care of it.
When we were securely within the deep shadows of the boat garage and the boat was tied to the cleat, we grabbed our gear and slipped over the side and onto the enclosed dock.
Patrick pulled out a cell phone and made a quick call. Soon after he put away his phone, the lights in the upstairs window disappeared. “Follow me,” he said, and led the way deeper into the darkness of the garage. It was so dark I could only see shadows, but we dared not use flashlights. Operating by feel and the sound of Patrick’s footsteps on the hollow boards, we ascended a flight of stairs and then pushed through a heavy wooden door. When we were all inside, Patrick slammed the door shut and someone flipped a switch. Patrick cursed and we all squinted as the bright light flooded our dilated pupils.
“Sorry,” said a young voice.
I shielded my eyes and looked at the kid. He was dirty and wet, had sandy hair and freckles. I stuck out my hand. “What’s your name, little man?”
