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

by BJ Bourg

  “Cops,” one of the other robbers called. “The cops are coming!”

  “You should’ve stayed in your seat.” Ringleader smiled and pulled the trigger.

  ——

  I jerked awake and stared wildly about, not knowing where I was or what was happening.

  “Are you okay?” It was Susan’s voice and she was in the driver’s seat of Seth’s truck. There were worry lines on her face. “You must’ve fallen asleep. You were mumbling and grunting.”

  I took a deep breath and settled down, remembering. After notifying Chloe’s parents about her murder, Susan and I had served as Gretchen’s cover team as she worked her K-9 up and down the northern banks of Bayou Tail searching for a scent, but they’d found none. The sun had finally gone down on us and we were forced to abandon the search until morning.

  I straightened and gathered up my shotgun and bag of ammunition. “Pick me up in the morning?”

  Susan nodded. After a moment, she said, “I’m so sorry about Chloe. You’ve suffered so much in your life already and to have this happen to you…”

  “Thanks.” I fidgeted in my seat. “Do you know when they’re doing her autopsy?”

  “Mallory said they’re shooting for tomorrow afternoon, but it depends on how long it takes to do the others.” She sighed. “This has been the second worst day of my life, Clint.”

  I nodded my agreement. I knew what her worst day had been and she knew mine. We both sat in silence, each understanding the other. I finally opened my door and slid out. I paused to look at her before shutting the door. Her eyes were moist.

  “Do you need anything from me?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

  “Just get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  When she was gone, I trudged inside and tossed my shotgun on my bed. After stripping off my gun belt, I hung it on the bedpost and walked into the bathroom. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I smelled like marsh mud and stale sweat, and looked even worse. I didn’t feel like taking a shower, but I needed one, so I labored through it.

  Smelling like soap and feeling a little better physically, I pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt and walked into the kitchen to look for a bottle of vodka. I squatted in front of the sink and smiled when I jerked open the cabinet doors. There were two bottles—one full and the other half empty. I reached for the full one and had just wrapped my fingers around it when a familiar voice from the living room startled me.

  “Pig, are you ready to go to hell and meet your—”

  Without hesitation, I whirled around and threw the bottle in the direction of Simon’s voice as I lunged toward my bedroom door. I heard glass break, and Simon roared in pain.

  As I bolted into my room, gunfire exploded from the living room and bullets riddled the kitchen cabinets behind me. I snatched the shotgun from my bed and dove into the closet, huddling behind my gun safe. Simon was belting out orders and I could hear at least one other voice as they directed their gunfire toward my bedroom. Light was still shining from the bathroom and it lit up my room enough for me to see the curtains jerking from bullet strikes. Holes appeared in the wall paneling of my room and stuffing from my mattress floated into the air. The barrage was relentless and I knew better than to step away from the cover of my metal safe. I patiently gripped my shotgun, waiting for the right moment.

  Almost as suddenly as it began, the shooting finally stopped. A shell casing tinkered across the wooden floor and came to rest somewhere in the living room. After that sound, everything grew deathly quiet. I took slow, quiet breaths, holding my mouth open to try and hear over the ringing in my ears.

  Having played enough hide-and-seek as a kid, I knew the seeker was always at a disadvantage, so I stayed put. If the Parker brothers wanted me bad enough, all I had to do was sit there and wait. Sooner or later, they’d come seeking.

  Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. After about fifteen minutes, I heard a coarse whisper, but couldn’t make out what was said. The floor creaked in the living room and I knew someone was on the move. The sound grew steadily closer until it reached my bedroom door and stopped.

  I stood and waited beside my safe.

  “Can you see anything?” Although he was whispering, I recognized Simon’s voice.

  “I can’t see behind the bed,” someone said from the doorway. I didn’t recognize the voice, but knew it had to be one of Simon’s brothers. A beam of light shined from the doorway and stabbed at the dark corners of the room.

  “Go check it out,” Simon said, sounding impatient. His voice was closer to the door. “I’ll cover you.”

  A boot scuffed against the floor just inside my bedroom, and I moved my finger to the trigger of the shotgun. The beam of light wobbled as the man took another step into the room. I took a deep breath and held it, waiting for the next step, which would put him right outside the closet.

  The beam of light turned in my direction and I leaned deeper into the shadows of the closet, trying to hide from the probing light.

  “Hey,” the man called, “I think something moved in the closet!”

  CHAPTER 34

  I exhaled my lungful of air and stepped out of the closet. In one quick motion, I brought the shotgun to my shoulder and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening. The flashlight fell from the man’s grasp and he collapsed in a lifeless heap. In the dim glow from the bathroom light, I saw a gaping red hole in his throat. If my memory was right, the man was Thomas Parker. I gritted my teeth. One down, two to go.

  “You bastard!” Simon screamed. “I’m going to kill you, pig!”

  I quickly faded back into the closet as gunfire again erupted from the living room. Bullets ripped through the walls around me, but I stayed behind the fireproof gun safe. After a few long seconds, there was a brief lull in the action and I heard a magazine hit the floor. I quickly stepped out and fired another shot in the direction of the door. In that brief moment, I realized no one was there. I thought about running to the opposite side of the room, but there was no cover, so I dipped back into the closet.

  “Taylor, get some gasoline,” Simon yelled. “We’ll burn him out!”

  My heartbeat quickened. If they set fire to my house, I was toast. Unless…

  As gunshots continued to rain in from the doorway, I reached around the safe and punched in the code on the electronic lock. When the door popped loose, I shoved it open. I then began grabbing boxes of ammunition and pulling them off the shelves. I tossed them to the floor beside me, trying to make a space large enough for me to fit inside. When I’d stripped everything from the safe, I grabbed the shelf and tried to pull it free. It didn’t move. Shit! There was no way I was fitting inside the safe with the shelf still in place.

  There was a brief lull in the gunshots being fired into my closet wall and my bedroom, and I heard the screen door slam at the back of my house. Taylor was heading for the shed to look for gas! That left Simon all alone in my house. I stood ready, trying to time the rhythm of his shots. I was about to step out and engage Simon when a voice called from the back yard.

  “Taylor Parker, drop the gun—now!” It was Susan!

  “Do it or you’re dead!” Melvin hollered.

  Simon stopped shooting in my direction and I knew he heard the voices, too. I peeked out of the closet and saw him in the doorway to my bedroom, looking toward the back of the house.

  “Taylor, don’t—” Susan’s voice was cut off by a three-round burst of semi-automatic gunfire and a boom from a shotgun. Simon screamed Taylor’s name and jumped to his feet, starting for the back door. He was raising an AK-47 semi-automatic rifle to his shoulder, but I had sprung from the closet and was on him before he took two steps.

  With a grunt, I struck Simon in the back of the head with the butt of my shotgun. His knees buckled and he fell on his face, the floor shaking under his weight. I glanced out the door and saw Taylor lying on his back on my porch, his torso riddled with bullets. I kicked the door shut and pushed the tabl
e in front of it.

  “Clint, are you okay?” Susan hollered from outside. “What’s going on in there?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I leaned my shotgun against the kitchen counter and bent over to grab Simon by the back of his leather vest. He was heavy—probably just south of two-eighty—and I had to strain to get him to his knees. He was groggy and rubbing his head, but he seemed to know where he was. He sat on his heels and stared up at me, hate in his eyes. “I’m going to kill you, pig!”

  I jerked my pistol from its holster and pushed it against his forehead. My hand shook as I applied pressure to the trigger. “Simon Parker, I’m going to—”

  “Going to what, pig? Murder me in cold blood?” Simon grinned and shoved his tongue through the gap where his two front teeth used to be. “You don’t have the balls!”

  I cocked my head sideways and frowned. “I thought you had one missing tooth.”

  Simon spat on the floor at my feet. “That blonde bitch of a pig you got working for you knocked the other one out.” His scowl turned to a smile and he licked his lips. “But I’ll be seeing her real soon.”

  I tapped his forehead with the muzzle of my pistol. It was my turn to smile. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation you’re in.”

  Simon shrugged. “So I’m going to prison again. Big deal. I’ve been to prison a bunch of times, but I always get out. And when I do, I’m coming—”

  In one deft motion, Simon knocked my pistol away from his forehead with his left hand and wrapped his right arm around the back of my legs. He threw his shoulder into my knees and knocked me onto my back. I was caught off guard and my pistol went off when I crashed into the floor, but the bullet impacted the ceiling harmlessly.

  Simon reared up and brought his right fist crashing down onto my face, splitting my brow open. Blood gushed down my face. I tried to blink it away, but there was too much of it. Through a blur, I saw him raise his fist into the air again. I quickly reached up with my left hand and shoved my thumb as far into his left eye socket as I could. Grunting like an animal, I tried to push his eyeball out the back of his head.

  Simon squealed in pain and clutched at my hand with both of his. I hooked my left leg around his right leg and kneed him in the ribs with my right leg. At the same time, and using his right eye socket as a handle, I pulled his head toward the left while smashing my pistol into his temple, sweeping him off of me. Now on top of him, I slowly returned the muzzle of my pistol to his forehead.

  Susan and Melvin continued calling from outside, demanding to know what was going on. I knew it was only a matter of time before they kicked the door down and came in to arrest Simon.

  “Simon Parker, you murdered my wife and my little girl,” I said slowly. Although I was the one speaking, it sounded like someone else’s voice.

  Simon’s hand was covering his right eye, but his left eye grew wide and he lay still. I thought I detected a shiver in his bottom lip.

  “You also killed my girlfriend, the mayor and his wife, Seth, and Nate.” I gritted my teeth and nodded. “For all of that, you have to pay with your life.”

  “What in hell’s name are you talking about? You can’t kill me.” Simon’s voice was trembling. “You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake! That would be murder.”

  “You broke into my house to kill me, Simon,” I said coldly. “I can do whatever the hell I want with you. I own your ass.”

  Simon stammered, desperately searching for words to get him out of his predicament. Finally, he resorted to begging. “Please, officer…I beg you. I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time. I swear it! I’ll even plead guilty if you take me in—to all of it. I don’t want to die. I want to live. My dad was killed by a cop and it ruined our lives. I don’t want to be like my father. I want to be different—”

  I shoved the muzzle of my pistol deep into his mouth to shut him up. The blood rushed to my head as I remembered the desperation I’d felt that evening three years ago as I begged for Abigail’s life. Now here he was begging for his own life. He had shown no mercy to my innocent baby girl, and now he expected me to show him mercy. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the muzzle deeper into his throat, wanting to push it through to his brain stem.

  Simon let go of his right eye and clutched at my hand, trying to push my pistol out of his mouth. I knocked his hand away and shoved it even deeper. His left eye was wide and bulging and tears flowed down his face. He was gagging and mumbling something I couldn’t understand. My trigger finger was tense, my hand shook. I’d wanted him dead since the day he murdered Abigail and Michele. I had prayed for the chance to do it myself and that chance had arrived, but I suddenly found myself conflicted. I was always prepared to take a life in defense of myself or of someone else, and I had hoped to be involved in a gun battle with Simon and his brothers, but I’d never considered murdering any of them in cold blood.

  I heard pounding on my back door and it interrupted my thoughts. After more pounding, the door burst open and the table slid across the kitchen. I didn’t look up, but I could see Susan and Melvin standing there in my peripheral vision. A moment later there was a crash behind me and footsteps approached, but stopped abruptly.

  “Holy shit,” Amy said from behind me. “Clint, hold up…don’t do what you’re about to do.”

  “Chief, put the gun down,” Melvin pleaded. “It’s over. We’ve got them. We won.”

  “Listen to them,” Susan said in a soft voice. “Put down the gun so we can bring him in. It’s over. He’s going to prison and he’ll face the death penalty for sure. His life is already over, so don’t throw everything away for him.”

  Simon nodded his head up and down, begging with his good eye. I eased up on my pistol. This bastard wasn’t worth my freedom. Susan was right…he was finally going to pay for what he did. He’d just confessed to all of the murders and he would be locked up in a hellhole until the day the state executed him. He’d have to live with the loss of his brothers like I’d had to live with the loss of my wife and daughter. That, I realized, would hurt more than the split second of pain he would feel if I shot him. Death would be the easy way out for this monster.

  Susan took a step closer to us. “Come on, Clint. You’re better than him. Stop and think about what you’re doing. Please, think it through.”

  “You’re right.” I sighed and removed my pistol from Simon’s mouth.

  Simon’s face relaxed and he licked his dry lips. “I knew you didn’t have the balls to do it, you little prick.” He smiled wide and pushed his tongue through the gap where his front teeth used to be—just as he’d done right before he shot Abigail.

  My vision blurred and my head swam as an overwhelming sense of rage engulfed my every fiber. Abigail’s innocent face came back to me and I could hear the fear in her voice as she begged me to help her. I relived the very moment her soul left her body—could see her expression go immediately blank when Simon’s bullet sucked the life right out of her.

  Letting out an animalistic growl that sounded like it came from somewhere above me, I shoved my pistol back into Simon’s throat and screamed down at him, “You murdering piece of shit! You killed my baby girl!”

  I could feel Susan grabbing at my shoulder…could hear Melvin and Amy screaming at me to put the gun down…could smell the fear emitting from Simon’s body, but my senses were dull to all of it, as though it was all a dream. The one thing that felt real was the gun in my hand. Knowing what I had to do, I stared unblinking into Simon’s eyes—not wanting to miss a thing—and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 35

  4:37 a.m., Saturday, October 31

  Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office

  Reginald Hoffman walked into the interview room to join Detectives Mallory Tuttle and Doug Cagle, who had finished interviewing me an hour earlier. Doug’s sleeves were rolled up and it looked like he wanted to beat a confession out of me. He’d eyed me with contempt during my entire statement, often referring to Si
mon as the victim.

  My left brow was starting to sting from the stitches I’d received. Doug had handcuffed me in my kitchen, read my rights, and then reluctantly transported me to the hospital before bringing me to the sheriff’s office. My head ached. I glanced up at Reginald when he walked in and nodded. His dark hair was usually slicked back with some kind of gel, but tonight it was thick and bushy, making him look every bit of his forty-seven years.

  “I just got off the phone with Isabel,” he said, speaking to Mallory and Doug. “And she says our office won’t be pursuing charges against Chief Wolf.”

  “What?” Doug’s mouth fell open. “He murdered a man in cold blood—and he confessed to it!”

  Reginald shook his head. “It was a justifiable homicide. Simon Parker broke into his home to kill him, which makes him fair game in the eyes of the law.”

  “But he wasn’t in fear for his life,” Doug argued. “Simon was unarmed and helpless.”

  Mallory slid a criminal code book toward her partner and said, “Like I already told you, he doesn’t have to be in fear for his life to use deadly force in his own home. The only requirement is that he felt deadly force was necessary to compel the intruder to leave.”

  “But the intruder was lying on his back with a gun in his mouth, so how in the hell was he supposed to leave?” Doug threw the criminal code book across the room. “That’s a loophole and you know it!”

  Mallory shrugged. “Then have the law changed.”

  “Oh, you can bet your ass I will!” Doug folded his arms across his chest and fixed me with a cold stare. “You swore an oath to uphold the laws of this state and you violated that oath. You’re no different than the murderer you killed and you’re certainly not fit to be a chief of police.”

  “Doug, you’re right, I did swear an oath to uphold the laws of the great State of Louisiana, and I do feel like I’ve failed my profession and my department.” I stared down at the floor and frowned. “Three years ago I remained true to that oath, and my wife and baby girl were killed because of it. Last night I remained true to the memory of Michele and Abigail.” I looked back up at him. “It was selfish of me. If the state would’ve decided I’d committed a crime and they wanted to charge me, I’d have taken my medicine like a man. If some higher power decides I’ve committed some sort of moral sin…well, I’ve retroactively paid a heavy price for that, haven’t I?”