But Not Forsaken: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 3)

by BJ Bourg

  Susan’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

  The other deputy removed a set of handcuffs from a pouch behind his belt and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Sarge, but you’ll need to come with us.”

  Susan’s mind raced. “Melvin, call Clint right away.” She knew he would know what to do.

  “I’m on it!” Melvin hollered.

  The first deputy pulled the phone from her hand and tucked it into his pocket while the second deputy grabbed her left wrist. For a brief moment, Susan thought how easy it would be to strip her hand from the deputy’s grip and knock him unconscious, but she quickly dismissed the idea. This battle would have to be fought in court—with lawyers. As the deputies pushed her arms behind her back, she lifted one of her feet. “Can I at least put on some shoes?”

  “We’ll get a pair for you when we lock up your house.”

  Susan glanced at the trooper, who had stepped out of his car and was standing beside it. “Why is he here?” she asked.

  “He was in the area and came along in case you’d give us trouble.”

  Susan was numb as the deputies ratcheted the cuffs around her wrists and led her to the back seat of the patrol car. This was not the way her career was supposed to end, and for a brief moment she felt an overwhelming sense of failure. Keep your chin up, she told herself. You did nothing wrong!

  CHAPTER 3

  As soon as Melvin had called and given me the news about Susan’s arrest, I’d jumped into my Tahoe and headed for Bill Hedd’s house, leaving my girlfriend, Chloe Rushing, and my German shepherd, Achilles, wondering what was going on. I was angry that Bill hadn’t given me a courtesy call. As Mechant Loup’s police chief and Susan’s supervisor, I should’ve been made aware that one of my officers was about to be arrested.

  I turned left on Main Street and raced across the Mechant Loup Bridge, dialing Isabel Compton’s cell phone as I drove. Isabel was Hedd’s first assistant district attorney and one of only two allies I had in the DA’s office. Her phone rang twice before a man picked up.

  “This is Clint Wolf calling for Mrs. Compton,” I said. “I’m the police chief for—”

  “I know who you are, Chief,” the man said. “I’m Izzy’s husband. Hold on just a minute—she’ll be right with you.”

  I only had to wait a few seconds for Isabel to pick up. “Dear God, Clint, I just found out about Susan.”

  “What’s going on? Have you found out why he’s doing this?”

  “I have no clue. I just got off the phone with Reggie and he’s at a loss, too. He said he didn’t even know it was going down until one of his buddies from the sheriff’s office called him.” There was a pause and then Isabel asked me what I was going to do.

  “I don’t know,” was all I said, and then disconnected the call. I tossed my phone to the center console and placed both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard my knuckles were white.

  I was several miles north of Mechant Loup when my phone rang. I glanced at it and saw Chloe’s name displayed on the screen. I didn’t answer. I was too angry to talk and I needed time to figure out what I was going to say once I got to the district attorney’s house. I didn’t think anything would change his mind, but I had to try. And whatever I did, I knew I needed to be levelheaded, because Susan’s future and her freedom hung in the balance.

  When I finally arrived at his house in Western Chateau, I coasted up the long and curvy driveway—passing two large ponds and several ancient oaks on the way—and brought my Tahoe to a stop in front of the cobblestone steps that led to the giant brick home. Taking a deep breath, I jumped from the driver’s seat and jogged up the steps. Within a minute of knocking, I heard heavy footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. They came to a stop and I figured Hedd was looking through the peephole. I tilted my head down, hoping he couldn’t see me, but it was no use and he didn’t care. He flung the door open and bellowed, “What in hell’s name are you doing at my house?”

  “Sir, I was hoping to have a word with you.” I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans to let him know I wasn’t there for trouble. “If it’s okay with you, that is.”

  The hard lines in his face softened a little and he ran a hand through his Elvis Presley hairdo. “It’s late. What do you want?”

  “It’s about Susan,” I began, still not sure what to say. “I was hoping you’d reconsider your decision to charge her with murder. She was only doing her job and she saved my life. She was justified by law to use deadly force to protect—”

  “If you’re going to try and lecture me on the law, I’ll end this conversation right now,” Bill said, his thick jowls flapping as he spoke. “I don’t need the sermon and I certainly don’t need some cop telling me how to do my job.”

  “You’re right.” My eyes must’ve been bloodshot and I knew there was smoke coming out of my ears. “Can you please reconsider your decision to charge her with murder?”

  “Sorry,” he said, a smug look on his face, “but it wasn’t my decision. The grand jury indicted her—not me. It’s really out of my hands.”

  “But you could dismiss the charges if you wanted to.”

  “There you go again trying to tell me how to do my job.” Bill grinned, but his eyes remained cold. “I tell you what…if you don’t like the job I’m doing, why don’t you run against me in the next election? Oh, wait a minute…you’re not qualified to be DA.” Bill stepped back into his house and reached for the door. “Now get off my property.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He paused, leaning against the doorframe. “Because it’s my job to put murderers away.”

  I pulled my hands from my pockets and clenched my fists, a move that didn’t go unnoticed. Bill squinted. “You’d better think long and hard about your next move, son,” he said. “Every wrong move you make is going to cost Susan more years behind bars.”

  It took everything in me to turn and walk away, but that’s exactly what I did. I was so angry I thought my eyes would start bleeding, but I was thinking clear enough to head to the Chateau Parish Detention Center. I arrived just as the arresting deputies were preparing to remove Susan from the back seat of their cruiser. A state police car was parked behind them and a trooper was watching as they removed the seatbelt from around Susan.

  I left my door open and bolted from my SUV, calling out to Susan as I hurried to their location. The trooper spun around when he heard me. One hand was on his weapon and the other hand was extended out in my direction.

  “Sir, stop right there!” he commanded in a loud voice. “Back away slowly!”

  I stopped, but didn’t back up. I introduced myself and pointed to Susan. “That’s my officer in the squad car. I intend to speak with her before they bring her inside.”

  The trooper moved forward in a menacing manner and stopped when he was a few feet from me. “You will not have any interaction with the prisoner. Is that understood?”

  I glanced down. There was a SWAT pin attached to his uniform shirt, but I hardly noticed it because my eyes were fixated on his nametag. I recognized the name immediately—he was the state police SWAT cop who shot Achilles when they raided my house last Fourth of July. I’d thought long and hard about what I would do when our paths ever crossed, and most of those fantasies ended with him on the ground bleeding.

  “You’re the little prick who shot my dog!” I looked up from his nametag and fixed him with cold eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to the day I run into you.”

  In my peripheral vision, I saw the two deputies straighten and look in our direction. The trooper’s face turned a shade whiter. “Chief, look, I…I swear it was an accident. He came out of nowhere and his bark…it…he sounded so big and I didn’t know what was going on. I love dogs and I really—”

  “You shot his dog?” one of the deputies asked incredulously.

  The trooper stammered. “I…I didn’t mean to.”

  “That’s some bullshit,” the other deputy said, waving
me forward. I don’t know if he really felt bad for me or if it was the diplomat in him merely trying to diffuse a problem, but he said, “For that, I’ll give you two minutes with Sergeant Wilson, but I’ll want to search you first. You know, just for our protection.”

  I nodded my understanding and then glared one last time at the trooper, who turned and hurried toward his car. I held out my hands while the deputy frisked me. When he was satisfied, I slid into the back seat of his squad car, next to Susan. It broke my heart to see her in the back of a patrol cruiser with her hands cuffed behind her back. She was wearing workout clothes and her feet were bare. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  I knew she must’ve been upset—had to be—but she forced a smile. I realized she was probably doing that more for my benefit than her own. “My nose itches,” she said, “but I’m fine otherwise.”

  I reached out to scratch her nose, but she cocked her head sideways and smirked. “That was a handcuff joke, Clint.”

  “How can you joke at a time like this?”

  “What other options do I have? Cry? Get angry?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I did to Hedd, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me sweat. I know that my actions were justified, and I’ll never apologize for it or regret it. Hell, I’d do it again tomorrow.”

  My chest flooded with admiration as I stared into her dark brown eyes. I doubted I could be as courageous in a similar situation, and I hated that she was there because of me. “How can you be so calm?”

  “Clint, I’m terrified on the inside, but I won’t let that bastard know it and he’ll never break me.”

  “Well, I’m getting you out of here.”

  Susan shot a glance at the two deputies who stood nearby watching us. “What’re you going to do about them?”

  I shook my head as a smile played across her mouth, pushing her dimple deep into her cheek. “I’m bonding you out and then hiring the best lawyer around. You’re not going down for saving my life.”

  “Where will you get a million dollars?”

  I gasped. “Your bond’s a million dollars?”

  “It is.”

  I sank back in my seat. Where in the hell was I going to come up with that much money? Like a fool, I’d put up my entire savings as reward money for a previous case, and it would take me at least a year to build it back up. Of course, that still wouldn’t be enough to bond her out. As I sat there thinking, one of the deputies approached my door and waved for me to get out of the car. “We need to bring her inside, Chief.”

  I looked back at Susan and nodded. “I won’t rest until I get you out of here.”

  She smiled. “I appreciate it, Clint, but I don’t want you borrowing money for this. I’ll have my day in court and the truth will come out then.”

  “That could be a year from now—you can’t stay in jail for a year!”

  “I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

  A thought suddenly came to me. “I might know a way—”

  “Chief,” the deputy said in a stern voice, “we need to go…now.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It was late when I got home, but Chloe was wide awake. “I tried calling you a bunch of times,” she said.

  I sank to the sofa and rubbed Achilles’ head as I recounted everything that had happened. Chloe gasped when I mentioned Susan’s arrest. “Are you kidding? She was arrested?”

  “Please don’t report that. It’ll get out eventually—it’s unavoidable—but I don’t want it coming from you.”

  She was thoughtful, but finally nodded. We talked for a few minutes longer and then got ready for bed. I poured myself a glass of vodka—she had mentioned before that it looked better than drinking from the bottle—and took a long drink before spreading a blanket on the floor beside the bed.

  “What’s with the blanket?” she wanted to know.

  “I can’t sleep on a bed while Susan’s sleeping on a jail cot for simply saving my life.”

  I finished drinking my glass of vodka and stretched out on the hard floor, sighing as I did so. It had been a bad day and I wanted it to be over. I glanced over at Chloe, who stood looking down at me. There was a weird expression on her face. “What is it?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Are you really sleeping on the floor?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until I can get her out of jail.”

  “But you said the bond was a million dollars.”

  I nodded. “It is.”

  “You’re going to be on that floor for a long time.”

  “Not if I have my say.” I nodded positively. “I have a plan to get the money.”

  One of Chloe’s eyebrows arched upward. “Prostitution is still illegal in the South.”

  I grinned. “I wouldn’t be able to raise enough to buy a movie ticket, much less twelve percent of a million.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said, eyeing me seductively. “I’d pay top dollar for—”

  “Anyway,” I interrupted, “the plantation home is in Michele’s name. Since she purchased it while we were married, I’m the sole owner and can do whatever I want with it.”

  “But she didn’t really purchase it.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter—she was the legal owner and now I am.”

  “Even if you put it on the market, it could take months or years to sell—if ever. The economy’s not in the best shape right now.”

  “I’m not putting it on the market. I’m going to offer it to Pauline Cain for a quarter mil. She can afford it and she’s mentioned wanting to reclaim that property someday.” I nodded, pleased with myself for coming up with the idea. Mrs. Cain would be getting the property back for half what her husband sold it for, and I’d have plenty of money to get Susan out of jail and hire a good lawyer.

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.” Chloe shook her head and walked into the bathroom, turning off the bedroom light as she went.

  I just lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for the alcohol to take effect before allowing my eyes to drift shut. I didn’t dare close them too early.

  My lips were starting to feel numb when the bathroom door opened and Chloe’s bare feet padded toward me. She stopped when she was above me and dropped to her knees, sidling up beside me.

  I stirred and turned toward her. “What’re you doing?”

  “I sleep where you sleep,” she said.

  I smiled and felt myself drifting off.

  CHAPTER 5

  I got to the police department early the next morning and found Melvin and Amy sitting around the dispatcher’s desk sulking. Lindsey, our daytime dispatcher, had just relieved Marsha and was sitting in her chair staring blankly at the floor. Amy tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and looked over at me. “What do we need to do to get her out?”

  I told them my plan and their eyes lit up.

  “That’s awful nice of you, Chief,” Melvin said. “I was talking to Claire about getting a loan, but she said we’re already noted out.” He sighed. “I didn’t realize having a kid could be so expensive.”

  I was about to leave when the front door opened and a small-framed woman walked inside. She was in her late fifties and I immediately recognized her as Susan’s mother, Lisa Wilson. Her hair was dark like Susan’s but streaked in white. Other than the hair and brown eyes, she was nothing like Susan. Her movements were unsure—timid, even—and she looked frail.

  When Mrs. Wilson saw us in our police uniforms—the same uniform her daughter wore—she broke down crying. I rushed to her and wrapped her in my arms. As I held her, I assured her everything was going to be okay and that I would get Susan out of jail.

  “It’s my fault she’s in there!” Mrs. Wilson wailed. “I did this to her.”

  I heard a collective gasp behind me as I hurried and ushered the crying woman into my office. I kicked the door shut behind me and showed her to one of the chairs in front of my desk. I slid the
other chair close to her and sat facing her. I pushed some of the clutter on my desk aside and grabbed a tissue. I handed it to her and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. After about ten minutes, she finally wiped her face and took a shaky breath. “I…I think I’m okay now,” she said, nodding for emphasis.

  “Take your time,” I said, but didn’t mean it. I was wondering what she had done to get Susan arrested and I wanted to know right away. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready.”

  Sniffling, she nodded again. “I’m ready.”

  I sat there staring at her, waiting, but she didn’t speak. She just stared through bloodshot eyes at the floor. “Ma’am, you said it’s your fault Susan got arrested. What did you mean?”

  She turned her blank eyes in my direction. “I should’ve never gone on that dating website. I knew God would judge me for committing the sin of lust.”

  Confused, I asked her to explain.

  Through sniffles and more crying, she said she had gone onto a dating website and searched for single men in the area. She came across a man named “Billy” who mentioned in his profile that he was hesitant to put up a picture because of his job. She was hesitant to put up a picture as well, so she felt they had at least that in common.

  “I sent him a simple message at first,” she said after pausing to blow her nose. “I saw he was from Chateau Parish, so I wrote and told him I was from here, too. We exchanged messages for a few days and then he asked me for a picture.”

  “Did you send him one?”

  “I asked him to send one first, and he did. That’s when I realized who he was.” She broke out sobbing again. “I figured it was safe, you know? He’s the district attorney, for goodness sakes. I never dreamed it would turn into this.”