by BJ Bourg
That seemed to get her attention and I thought I heard her gulp on the other end of the phone. “Do…did they know my name?”
“No, but they know I have a blonde girlfriend.”
Silence from the other end. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Okay, so they know you have a blonde girlfriend, but they don’t know it’s me?”
“Right.”
She was thoughtful and then told me she’d take Achilles and go to her dad’s until I returned from Tennessee. “But I’m going to work tomorrow,” she said. “This story could be the one. I’ve got to meet a source who—”
“Look, just pack your stuff and get Achilles ready to travel. Melvin should get there soon to escort you to your dad’s.”
“What about you? Are you coming home tonight?”
I was tempted to get on the road, but it was too dangerous. I didn’t mind risking my own life, but I wouldn’t risk the lives of other travelers. “It’s not safe for me to get on the road.”
“Oh…you’ve been drinking.”
I stared down into the darkness where my feet should be. “Yeah. I was sleeping when they called.”
“I wish you would try the pills again.”
I ignored her comment and said, “Maybe it’s best this way. If I’d be sober, I’d probably jump in my Tahoe and drive straight home without finishing the job here.” I nodded to myself. “I need to finish this before I come home. Susan’s counting on me.”
CHAPTER 13
After being awakened by Melvin, I hadn’t gotten another wink of sleep. Chloe had called an hour after we hung up to say she’d made it to her dad’s house. I could hear Achilles barking in the background and had asked about him. She said he was enjoying her parents’ back yard and peeing on everything. Right before we ended our conversation, I’d asked her to reconsider going to work.
“Clint, if we alter our lives because of the Parker brothers, they win,” she had said. “Would you stay home if they threatened you? No, you wouldn’t. Besides, this story will give my career a giant boost. It’ll definitely make national news.”
I couldn’t argue too much, because she was right—I wouldn’t alter my plans for some two-bit thugs. “It’s just that I…you know what I’ve been through. I don’t want to go through that again.”
She’d finally promised she would meet with her contact and then go straight to her dad’s house.
“Just be careful…please.”
I’d spent the next two hours staring at the ceiling, watching the dark shadows slowly fade to light and worrying about Chloe.
When the alarm finally went off at six o’clock, I hurried through a shower, put on jeans and a pullover shirt, chugged two cups of coffee at the motel diner, and then headed for Conner’s Boxing Academy.
The place was easy enough to find, as it was off the main highway and had a giant blue sign that read Boxing. I’d noticed a number of similar signs on some of the buildings in town, such as Restaurant, Ice Cream, and Food. My guess was they didn’t want there to be any confusion.
I pulled into the paved parking lot and parked next to a red Jeep that was backed into the spot closest to the door. It was the only other vehicle in the lot. I called Melvin before stepping out of my Tahoe. He was still at the office.
“Did you even go home last night?” I asked.
“No. I stayed here all night, keeping the place secure.”
“Any sign of the Parker brothers?”
“No, and we’ve been searching all night and morning. The sheriff offered to have some of his SWAT officers conduct roving patrols around town, and I accepted his invitation. I hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s what I would’ve done. I’m proud of you, Melvin, and I appreciate you stepping up. I’ll be there as soon as I interview Susan’s uncle.”
I could almost feel him beaming through the phone. “Thanks, Chief.” He paused, and then said, “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but Susan’s here.”
“Susan? Why is she there?”
I heard her voice in the background telling him to give her the phone. After some rustling sounds, she came on the line. “I couldn’t stay home. I heard what happened over my scanner and came right over. I know I’m technically on suspension with the arrest and all, but I won’t sit idly by while my town is being attacked by a group of outlaws—worse yet, the same assholes who killed Michele and Abigail. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing you can do to stop me from standing shoulder to shoulder with my family and protecting my home.”
I frowned. Although she was being wrongfully accused by the same justice system she served, here she was, willing to risk her life for her community while expecting nothing in return. Most people would be bitter, but not her. “Thank you, Susan. I feel better knowing you’re there. Keep the place safe.”
“I will.” She paused for a moment and then asked if I’d spoken to her uncle yet.
“I’m walking in the gym right now.”
“Look, if you uncover some information that has the potential to change my feelings about my dad or hurt his reputation, please don’t tell me. And don’t use it.”
I scrunched my brow. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“The whole purpose of me coming here is to find out why Bill hated your dad. Good, bad, or ugly, we need that information to get you out from under these bogus charges.”
“I’m serious, Clint. If the information will do anything to tarnish my dad’s name, don’t use it.”
When Susan made up her mind about something, I knew better than to argue. First, I needed to find out what Damian knew. I’d figure out the rest later. “Thanks again for helping out,” I said. “I owe you.”
With that, I ended the call and approached the wooden walkway to the large building. It was two stories tall and there were two or three outbuildings scattered around the property. While it had a fresh coat of gray paint and a shiny green roof, there was a weathered look about it that told me it was much older than the paved parking lot. Back in the day, it had probably been an old grocery store or saloon with a hitching rail along the front.
The sign on the front glass read, Come in, so I turned the antique knob and opened the door. It dragged a bit and I had to pull it closed behind me. The lighting inside was dim and the air was musky and smelled of stale sweat and mold. An old boxing ring was nestled against the far right corner. A dozen or more heavy bags hung from the ceiling—most of them held together by yards of duct tape—and worn boxing gloves hung from pegs all around the gym. I smiled, feeling as though I’d stepped into a Rocky movie—the first one.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice boomed from behind me.
Startled, I spun around and found myself facing a man wearing gray sweat pants that had been cut off at the knees and a blue T-shirt that had stains across the front. There was a scar on the left side of his face and his left eyelid drooped to the point that it was almost closed. He didn’t look like much, but one thing I’d learned in my profession is that you didn’t judge fighters by their covers.
I stepped forward and stuck out my hand. “Mr. Conner?” I began. “I’m Clint Wolf from Mechant—”
“I know who the hell you are,” the man said. He must’ve recognized the look of confusion on my face. “We spoke on the phone yesterday and today a stranger ends up in my gym. You figure it out.” Without shaking my hand, he brushed by me and began tidying up the place. “It seems you drove a long way for nothing,” he said. “I don’t talk about my friends—living or passed.”
I nodded. “I certainly understand where you’re coming from, sir. I’m the same way. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
“Of course it’s important.” Damian chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, son, but your problems aren’t my problems.” He picked up a pair of boxing gloves and turned to face me. Pointing to the door, he said, “I’ve got work to do, so if that’ll be all…”
I took a step closer to him. “Thi
s is your problem.”
The gloves fell from his hands and he met my step with two of his own. In my peripheral vision, I could see his fists ball up, and there was fire in his eyes. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice so calm it was scary.
I met his gaze without wavering and nodded. “This is Isaiah’s problem, so that makes it your problem.”
His brow furrowed just a little, but he didn’t say a word.
“It’s Susan, his daughter. She’s my dear friend and she’s in trouble. She needs your help.”
Damian’s face softened and his hands relaxed. I thought I detected a cloud of mist in his eyes at the mention of his best friend’s daughter. After studying my face for a long moment, he turned and headed toward the back of the gym. “Let’s talk in my office.”
CHAPTER 14
Damian’s office was more cluttered than mine. He tilted a chair to dump its contents on the floor, and then shoved it in my direction. He then picked his way around the desk and sat in his chair. “Okay, son,” he said, “you’ve got my attention. Now spill it.”
I told him everything that had happened, leaving nothing out. I even told him about my conversation with Mrs. Wilson and how Susan would rather go to prison than bring her dad’s good name into question. As I talked, his head never moved and his eyes never left mine. When I was done, he took a deep breath and spun in his swivel chair to face the wall behind him. He pointed to a picture hanging on the wall. “You see that?” he asked.
I looked up and studied the faded photograph. A boxer was casually leaning against one corner of a boxing ring with his arms draped over the top ropes. His black boxing shoes were crossed at the ankles and he was staring calmly across the ring. “Is that him? Is that Susan’s dad?”
Damian nodded. “It is. Look at him—he hasn’t even broken a sweat.”
I looked closer. The man’s face was lean and his muscles were chiseled, but not bulky. Had it not been for the red boxing gloves on his hands and his matching boxing shorts, I wouldn’t have been able to tell he was in a fight. “Is he about to fight?” I asked.
“When that picture was taken, he’d just gotten through knocking out a number four contender with a single blow to the front of the face.” Damian chuckled. “We all thought he’d killed the kid. Poor bastard dropped like he’d been shot in the brain stem. He recovered okay—took a while, but he lived through it.” He shook his head. “He never did fight again, though, and that upset Isaiah a bit. He didn’t mind knocking people out, but he hated it when they quit fighting. He didn’t want to be a career killer, you know?”
I nodded, staring in awe at the similarities in Isaiah and Susan’s facial features. “She looks so much like him,” I said.
“That she does.” He turned back toward me. “Lil’ Suzy was his pride and joy. He’d do anything for her.”
“I wish I could’ve met him.”
“He’s the kind of man that comes around once in your lifetime.” Damian’s eyes pierced through me. “Understand this…I would never say anything bad about my friend. Never tell his secrets, never betray him. If he killed someone, I’d go to jail before ratting on him. I’d take it to the grave, and you can take that to the bank.”
My shoulders slumped. I knew he was telling the truth—could see it in his eyes. He had been my only hope, my one chance at saving Susan. If he wouldn’t help me, who would? Who could? I sighed and sank deeper into my chair. I was tired and out of ideas. After a few moments, I started to stand, knowing I had to get back to town. There was no telling how far the Parker brothers would go to get to me, so the sooner I made myself available, the sooner this could end—and no one else would have to get hurt.
Before I made it to my feet, Damian placed his beefy arms on the desk and frowned. That softness returned to his eyes. I slowly returned to my chair and held my breath.
“I know Lil’ Suzy wants to protect her dad’s memory,” he said, “but I have to do what Isaiah would want me to do. My loyalty was to him and I have to honor what I think his wishes would be. In this matter, I know he would help his little girl no matter what the consequences, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
My heartbeat quickened and I sat straight in my chair. “Wait…you’ll talk to me?”
“I don’t want to, but I have to,” he said. “It’s what Isaiah would want.”
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a digital recorder. Setting it on the table between us, I nodded toward it and asked, “Do you mind?”
Damian sighed. “No, I guess not. I know you’ll need to carry proof back to Louisiana.”
I nodded and flipped the recorder on. I began by asking how he met Isaiah.
“I’d been boxing for about six years when he first walked in the gym.” Damian pursed his lips, remembering. “I was wrapping my hands and about to start doing some bag work when he walked in. I think he got the attention of everybody in the gym, because he showed up wearing dirty jeans and a greasy T-shirt.” Damian laughed. “That’s how he fought, too. When we stepped in the ring—”
“Wait a minute…he fought the first day he walked in the gym?”
“My coach was a hard ass. This is boxing, he’d say, not figure skating. He made me tune up all the new comers on their first day. He knew I could press them just enough to find out what they were made of without hurting them.”
I was thoughtful. “So, he was trying to find out who had the stomach for it?”
“Yeah, he always said you can’t teach heart, and he wouldn’t waste time on those who didn’t have it.”
“I take it Isaiah had heart?”
“Had heart? That boy was all heart. He came at me hard…right from the opening bell. I had to put some leather on him just trying to keep him off of me. I could tell right away he lacked any form of defense and he was easy to hit, but nothing I did slowed him down. Hell, he seemed willing to take four punches just to land one.” Damian shook his head, chuckling as he continued. “I beat the hell out of him that first night—broke his nose in the first round—but he wouldn’t quit coming. When the first round was over, Coach asked him if he’d had enough. He spat out a mouthful of blood and said he had me right where he wanted me.”
Damian said they grew to be close friends after that night and became regular sparring partners. “He started bringing Lil’ Suzie to the gym and we all fell in love with her. I’d work her on the mitts from time to time. She could throw a good punch for such a little kid.”
He talked a lot about Isaiah’s fights and gave blow-by-blow accounts of nearly all of them. I would’ve interrupted him, because none of it was relevant, but I was too intrigued. Finally, when he took a break from talking to grab a bottle of water from a small refrigerator in the corner of his office, I asked about something Mrs. Wilson had mentioned.
“So, Isaiah’s wife told me she thought you were a bad influence. Any idea why she would say that?”
“I was a young man—younger than Isaiah—and single. I liked to party on the weekends to blow off steam from training all week long, and he was my best friend, so I wanted him to party with me.” Damian hung his head. “I know I was to blame for a lot of his marital problems, and I’ll regret that until the day I die. Lisa hated me. She told Isaiah more than once that he’d have to choose between me and her. It was usually when we were about to go out and I’d be waiting in my truck. She’d walk outside so Suzie couldn’t hear the fussing and she’d give him an ultimatum. It’s your friend or your family, she’d say. Choose one! I don’t know why, but he always chose me.”
“How’d she take it? Mrs. Wilson—what would she do?”
“She’d just stand there crying. I was always happy he chose to go out with me, but a small part of me felt guilty—well, until that first beer. After I’d get some alcohol in me I’d be fine. I remember looking back in my rearview mirror once and seeing her wipe her eyes dry and compose herself. I knew she was doing that so Suzie wouldn’t know she was upset.” He shook his head. “That image haunts me to this
day. I never looked back again.”
“Did Lisa ever leave Isaiah?”
“She loved Suzie more than she loved herself. She never left Isaiah because she didn’t want to hurt Suzie, and she never said a bad word about him. My wife, she left my ass after a year and she told everybody in town I had some venereal disease I can’t even pronounce. She filled my kids’ heads with so much garbage that they still won’t talk to me—even after all these years.”
I thought I saw a shiny tear sliding down the side of his face at the mention of his kids, but I couldn’t be sure. “So, what about Bill Hedd…do you know why he hated Isaiah?”
“I do,” Damian said quietly. “Yes, sir, I know why he hated my friend.”
When he remained quiet for at least thirty seconds, I nodded and said, “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you know? For little Suzie’s sake.”
CHAPTER 15
9:45 PM
Ten miles north of Mechant Loup
When I ended my interview with Damian ten hours earlier, I’d ridden hard for Mechant Loup, his words burning a hole in my brain. Susan wouldn’t like what I’d discovered and she wouldn’t want me to use it, but it was the smoking gun I’d hoped for and I wasn’t going to let her go to jail for something she didn’t do. When I called Isabel and told her what I had learned, she suggested I get with Susan’s attorney as soon as possible and have him set up a meeting with Bill.
“This might just do the trick,” she’d said. “Bill would never let that information go public.”
I glanced at my phone again, but I hadn’t received another message from Chloe. I’d called her at least six times on the drive back, but she never answered. The first two times I called, her phone rang a dozen times before going to voicemail. Afterward, they would go immediately to voicemail. I sent her a text message at about six o’clock when I’d stopped for gas and she’d finally replied with a message that read, In interview. Will text again later.
