by BJ Bourg
The lights from town glowed bright beneath the dark sky up ahead and I wondered what was going on at the office, so I called.
“What are you doing at work?” I asked when Amy answered. “I thought you got hurt.”
“My wrist is banged up a little, but I’m fine.” She went on to tell me everything was quiet. “We’ve been hitting the south side of town hard, but there’s no sign of the Parker brothers. I think we might’ve scared them away.”
“I doubt it. They don’t scare easy. Did y’all get arrest warrants for them?”
She told me they only obtained one for Simon. “The judge didn’t think I could properly identify Taylor and David, so he refused to sign those. I got pissed, but Melvin said it was okay because they’d all be together anyway.”
“He’s right.” I told her to be careful and hung up. Just ahead of me in the sky was a dim glow that marked the town of Mechant Loup. I inadvertently sped up—feeling a burning desire to find the Parker brothers—and was taking the final curve in the highway at seventy miles per hour. It wasn’t a good idea in daylight, much less at nighttime. As I shot around the bend in the road, my attention was immediately drawn to the lift bridge that separated Mechant Loup from the rest of the world. Something seemed odd about it—different—but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe it was the long drive or my mind was preoccupied, but I didn’t slow down until it was almost too late.
“What the—?” I smashed the brake pedal to the ground and was lurched forward—the seatbelt locking me in place—as the vehicle abruptly slowed to a stop just inches before crashing through the barrier arms of the open bridge. I took a moment to catch my breath and then stepped out into the cool night air, my knees weak. Relieved that I hadn’t plowed through the arms and over the edge of the bridge, I watched as the lift span began its slow descent. The gears on the bridge squeaked and the chains rattled in protest as it closed. I shook my head in awe. I’d been in town for over a year and had never seen the bridge open to boat traffic. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a bridge tender up in the cabin. So much for my detective skills.
I stepped forward and realized there were red lights on both barrier arms, but they were busted, which accounted for the reason I couldn’t see them. They probably hadn’t been turned on in years. I made a mental note to let the town’s maintenance department know about it and then ducked under the arm.
I made my way to the edge of the deck and stared down into the blackness below. It was too dark to see clearly, but the moonlight sparkled off of waves lapping against the shore, apparently caused by a passing boat. There was a gurgling sound from somewhere below, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the large alligator that had taken Dexter’s arm was back in Bayou Tail. I shuddered, hoping never to encounter that beast again.
A gentle breeze blew in from the marsh and felt good against my face. A cold front must’ve blown through while I was gone. It felt like the seventies, which could almost be considered below freezing this far south.
“Where’s the boat?” I asked aloud. I turned my head to the right and left, scanning up and down Bayou Tail, but didn’t see anything. Shrugging, I returned to my vehicle and waited to cross over to the other side. My Tahoe rocked gently as the lift span made contact with the deck and settled roughly into place. Seconds later, the barrier arms made a jerky motion and began to lift upward. As soon as there was enough room for me to pass, I sped across the bridge and entered town.
When I reached Cig’s Gas Station, I turned right on Grace Street and then hooked a left on Jezebel. I sighed when I pulled into my driveway and saw that my house was still standing. I wouldn’t put it past Simon and company to burn my house down or destroy it in some other way. Of course, I figured they’d rather set it ablaze with me inside. I was not entirely opposed to the idea, because that would mean they’d have to come to me and I wouldn’t have to go looking for them.
Although my place appeared undisturbed, I wasn’t taking any chances. I drew my pistol and moved into the shadows as I made my way around the exterior of my house, searching for broken windows and checking the doors. There was no barking from inside, so Chloe had taken Achilles with her. This made me feel even better, because if anyone could protect her, it was him.
Once I’d confirmed that my house was secure, I holstered my pistol and entered through the back door. I began packing a duffel bag for a few days. I couldn’t leave the police department unguarded. It was the heartbeat of the town and I had to keep it secure.
After I packed my clothes, I opened my gun safe and grabbed my AR-15 and a case of ammunition. Slinging the rifle over one shoulder and the box of ammo over the other, I strolled to my car and loaded them in the front driver’s seat. As I was leaning into the car, something snapped behind me in the bushes. I whirled around, gripping my pistol with my right hand. Holding my breath, I tried to penetrate the darkness with my eyes, listening for the slightest hint of movement. Nothing.
Suddenly, the stillness of the night was shattered by the obnoxious chirping of my cell phone. I ducked low and reached for it with my left hand, switching it to silent. I held my breath and listened for more movement. Still nothing.
When I was certain all was clear, I straightened, holstering my pistol as I did. I glanced down at my phone and sighed when I saw a message from Chloe. She said she’d just gotten to her dad’s house and was beat. Call you in the am, she wrote.
I scowled. What about a phone call to tell me goodnight or to ask how my day went? Disgusted with the impersonal nature of text messages and cursing the person who invented them, I tossed my phone into the Tahoe and returned inside my house to grab my duffel bag. I also snatched two bottles of vodka from under the counter and stashed them between my clothes.
I locked up my place and headed for the office. The radio traffic was light. It scratched to life as I was pulling into the sally port and I turned up the volume. One by one, Amy contacted three sheriff’s deputies who were patrolling the town and asked if there were any signs of the Parker brothers. They each reported that everything was clear. I knew it wasn’t a matter of if the brothers would resurface…it was when and where.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder and snatching my AR-15 from the seat next to me, I stepped out the Tahoe. I smashed the button to lower the garage door and then made my way through the processing area and into the patrol room. I was surprised to see Amy sitting at the dispatcher’s station. There was a 12-gauge shotgun on the desk in front of her and her left hand went for it when I opened the door.
She relaxed when she saw it was me. She waved and it was then that I noticed a bandage around her right wrist. “Welcome back, Clint.”
“Where’s Marsha?” I asked. Marsha was my night shift dispatcher and she was as regular as the summertime heat in Louisiana.
“Susan sent her home,” Amy explained. “We didn’t know what to expect tonight and we didn’t want to put her at risk.”
I nodded and looked around. All of the office doors were shut and the shades were drawn in the front lobby. “Where’s Melvin?”
She shot a thumb toward the conference room. “He crashed on the floor. He said he’s going back out on the water early in the morning to try and track the Parkers down. He spent some time out there today, along with the sheriff’s water patrol guys, but they didn’t find anything.”
“He’s not going without me.” I glanced at the door to Susan’s office. “Is she in there?”
Amy nodded. “We’re sleeping in shifts. She’ll be up at midnight to stand guard while I sleep for a little bit. There’s also a deputy sleeping in the break room and two SWAT officers hiding around the building. We’re trying to keep this place guarded because Susan thinks they’ll either attack us here, or call in bogus complaints and ambush us one by one.”
I nodded my agreement. “They’re cowards that way. When you go back out on patrol, I want that deputy riding shotgun. No more single cars until we’ve dealt with those bastards.”
She
nodded, but her eyes narrowed and her lips formed a thin line, as though she were angry.
I’d seen that look on my own face and knew immediately what was going on. “You’re pissed at yourself for not taking them out last night.”
“I feel like such a fool. I didn’t even consider that it was a trap.” She shook her head. “I should’ve started shooting right when they approached my car.”
“You had no way of knowing what you were dealing with, so you did the right thing. For all you knew, it could’ve been some teenagers trying to taunt you on a dare.” I shifted the duffel bag on my shoulder and headed for my office to get some sleep. “I was right in hiring you. You’re a fighter.”
I pushed through my office door and noticed the shades were closed and the drapes pulled tight. Someone had put a cot with a pillow in the corner. I kicked off my boots and shirt, and then sat in the dark pulling from one of the bottles of vodka, wondering how Achilles was handling being in a strange place. Since bringing him home as a puppy, he’d never slept in a different bed. If he was anything like me, he could sleep anywhere, but not everyone was like me.
The last thing I remembered wondering was what I would tell Susan when she asked about my conversation with Damian.
CHAPTER 16
Thursday, October 29
Mechant Loup Police Department
The sun was shining through a sliver of a crack between the drapes when I opened my eyes the next morning. My head pounded and my neck and back ached. It took me a minute to realize where I was. When I did, I quickly sat up and looked at the clock on the wall. Six-thirty. I’d called Susan’s lawyer on my drive into town and told him I had some important information about Susan’s case. He’d agreed to meet with me at noon—it was the earliest he could manage. That gave me a few hours to hunt down the Parker brothers.
I pulled on a T-shirt, grabbed my duffel bag, and walked out into the patrol area. Lindsey was sitting at her desk staring at the front door. Her head jerked around when my door opened.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her bottom lip quivered. “Do…do you really think we’ll be attacked?”
Not one to lie about such things, I shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. If you feel uncomfortable being here, you can go home until it’s all over. I’ll pay you for your missed days.”
She shook her head. “I’m scared, but I’m not leaving. Y’all need me working the radio.”
I smiled and hurried to the shower room located at the back of the police department and got ready for work. Once I was cleaned and dressed in my polyester uniform, I strapped on my gun belt and stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the day I’d get to see Michele and Abigail again. I pulled out a picture of them that I kept in my wallet and frowned. I missed them so much. I knew I had to go on living, but I was ready to be with them. I’d often wondered what I’d say to them when that moment came. I would certainly apologize for trying to intercede in the robbery. I hung my head low and frowned, wishing time travel was real and I could go back and—
“Chief, come quick!” It was Lindsey and she was just outside the shower room. “There’s been a murder.”
I rushed out and followed Lindsey to her desk. Susan was standing there with Dexter, who cradled a rifle in his good arm. I avoided making eye contact with Susan, still unsure how I would handle the information I’d received from Damian.
Dexter nodded when I walked up. “I’m here to help defend the fort.”
“You don’t have to be here,” I said. “Along with Sheriff Turner’s people, we’ve got it covered.”
“I’m the mayor here, Clint…it’s my responsibility to help protect this town. Like all good captains, I’d go down with my ship.”
I knew it would be pointless to argue, so I thanked him and said we could use his help. I turned to Lindsey and she handed me a piece of paper with an address and name scribbled on it. “The owner—some guy named Ed Brody—called it in. He found his manager, Megyn Sanders, dead behind the bar. He said it looks like a robbery.”
I recognized the address. It was the Bayou View Pub on the southeast corner of town. “Where’s Melvin?” I asked.
“He and Seth took the airboat and headed for Lake Berg,” Lindsey said. “They’re going check some abandoned camps, just in case the Parker brothers are holed up out there.”
Seth was Melvin’s friend from the sheriff’s office and he worked the canine division. He was a solid officer with a background in SWAT, but there were three Parker brothers. “Just the two of them?” I silently cursed myself for sleeping too late and missing the ride.
Lindsey shook her head. “Three deputies from the sheriff’s office water patrol division took a boat and went with them.”
“Tell them to stay on the radio and—for the love of God—be careful.” I looked at Susan and indicated toward the door with my head. “I want you riding shotgun on this case.”
Susan hesitated. “Are you sure it’s a good idea, considering I’m out on bond for murder?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled, shaking my head. “I’m not sure of anything right now, except that you’re the best officer I have and I want you with me. I need you with me.”
“What about guarding the office?”
Dexter hoisted his rifle into the air. “I’ve got this place covered. You kids run along and get a handle on that murder. Lord knows, the last thing we need right now is another murderer running around town.”
That was enough to convince Susan, and she followed me to my Tahoe. We sped across town and arrived at the bar a few minutes later. The owner was sitting in a rocking chair on a large covered porch that extended the entire width of the building. His elbows were propped on his knees, and his face buried in his hands.
We sauntered up the concrete steps on one end of the porch and made our way to him, our boots echoing against the hollow wooden floor. It was only when we were standing over him that he looked up, his red face streaked with tears. He pushed back his white, thinning hair and sniffled loudly. “This is something that…this hasn’t…I…I never thought this would happen here.”
Susan put a hand on Ed’s shoulder and knelt beside him. While she consoled him, I made my way to the front door, careful not to disturb any evidence that might be on the porch. There were two entrances located at the front of the building—a modern double-door made of glass and an antique-looking wooden door with nine individual panes of glass. The wooden door was open, so I approached and picked my way through it.
The flickering florescent lights overhead cast a dim glow about the place, and I had to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. I’d been inside the establishment a few times since landing in Mechant Loup, so I knew the layout of the ancient building. The left side of the room opened into a large dance floor, with a DJ setup in one corner and a secondary bar in another corner. The main bar was to my right. It was constructed of rich mahogany and stretched nearly the length of the room. Nothing was out of place on my side of the bar. Each barstool was in its place, the top of the bar had been wiped clean, and every salt shaker and ashtray was in perfect position. To the untrained eye, it was just a normal day at the establishment. But I knew better.
As with most homicide scenes I’d worked, an aura of death clung to the air like an invisible fog. Bracing myself for what I would find, I carefully strode toward the end of the bar, searching the worn floor before taking each step. When I reached the far wall, I noticed two holes in the paneling. They were chest high and about four inches apart. They looked like bullet holes, so I checked the floor around me, searching for spent shell casings. There were none.
Next, I rounded the corner of the bar and located the victim, Megyn Sanders, lying on her right side next to a toppled barstool. She wore blue jeans, a faded red T-shirt, and women’s sneakers. Her right arm was trapped under her body and her left hand was draped across her chest. Her mouth was open in apparent shock and her eyes were wide.
I p
ulled out my cell phone and activated the flashlight feature on it, aiming it at Megyn’s head, which rested in a pool of coagulated blood. I immediately noticed a gunshot wound to her left temple. I scanned what parts of her body I could see and noticed more blood on her clothes. Upon closer inspection, I located two more bullet wounds. One was in her chest, above her left breast, and the other was to her left shoulder. I turned my attention back to the gunshot wound in her temple. Something about it was off. I leaned close and realized what it was…this was a contact wound. The star-shaped tattooing around the hole made that clear, but I needed to know if it occurred while she was standing or lying down. Due to the amount of blood that had spilled from her body, I knew the bullet had exited. I straightened and scanned the wall behind her and to her right, searching for more bullet holes. When I didn’t find any, I turned back toward the victim.
As I stood staring down at the contact wound to her temple, my mind drifted back to when Ringleader was holding Abigail in his arms. My eyes were open, but I could see him shoving his pistol roughly into the side of her temple, making her cry even louder. I flinched when the gun went off inside my head. In my subconscious mind, I replayed the scene where Ringleader shot the life right out of my baby girl over and over, and I nearly vomited.
I shook my head to clear it and took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on the investigation. I turned my attention toward the side wall next to the door I had entered. Picking my way around Megyn’s body, I moved to that side of the bar and noticed the wall was covered in old newspaper clippings and Polaroid photos from years past. Although it was cluttered, it was plain to see there were no bullet holes on that side of the building. I lowered my gaze to the register, which was against the wall. It was open. When I stepped closer I noticed the money slots were empty.
