by BJ Bourg
Before long, I reached a drainage canal that ran from east to west, cutting the forest in half. I glanced down and saw two sets of tracks leading into the water. Icy fingers suddenly clawed at my heart as I scanned the opposite bank. It was too far away and I couldn’t see if they had come out the other side.
“Shit!” I couldn’t believe Dawn had gone into the water. Those canals were death traps and she knew it. Our department had worked at least two cases where patrol deputies chased suspects into similar canals and never came out. Their bodies had later been dragged up from the mud below.
One thing was certain; I had to get to the other side to find out if Dawn had made it out of the water. At the moment, I didn’t want to consider the alternative. Without hesitation, I jumped into the water, diving forward at a shallow angle, taking care to skim the top of the water like a rock. Kicking and paddling like an Olympic swimmer going for a record, I quickly crossed the width of the canal and pulled myself onto the muddy bank on the northern side. After a quick search of the ground, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. There, in the soft mud, were small boot patterns consistent with the size of Dawn’s feet. Mixed in with her boot prints were the socked impressions of Cade Baryon’s feet.
I clenched my fists and plunged into the forest, following Dawn’s faint boot prints in the packed earth. I began hoping that Cade would resist arrest when I caught up with him. “If you do,” I said aloud, “I’m going to take you apart one little—”
A blood-curdling scream suddenly interrupted my bitch session and I drew my pistol with the speed of an old western gunslinger, scanning my surroundings as I did. The scream had come from somewhere to the northwest. Keeping my pistol at the ready, I broke out in that direction, my heart racing as I called upon my legs to give me everything they had. I couldn’t identify the owner of the scream, which terrified me. What if Dawn was in trouble? What if it was too late to help her?
I pushed the evil thoughts from my mind and pressed on. I’d gone about twenty yards when I heard movement in the bushes just ahead. I circled to my right and broke out into a small clearing, ready to shoot Cade if need be.
When I saw what was going on, I skidded to a stop and stared in shock. “What in the hell happened?”
Dawn looked up when she heard my voice and stood wearily to her feet. Shaking her head, she said, “He left me no choice.”
Cade was lying on his back in the mud, blood pouring from his severely damaged nose. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was dead, but it was clear he was merely unconscious.
Dawn leaned forward and wiped her bloody gun barrel on Cade’s blue jeans. Her wet shirt clung to her body like a glove and exposed every curve on her perfect frame. I tried to look her in the eyes when she turned to face me.
After she holstered her pistol, she pointed to a large tree branch on the ground at Cade’s feet. “He snuck up on me and attacked me with that branch.” She shook her head. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
I squatted near his shoulders and tilted his head to examine his nose. It looked like it had been knocked clean off his face. “You hit him with your pistol?” I asked.
Dawn nodded. “He almost got me. Luckily, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and ducked just in time. When I looked back up, his face was right here”—she held her hand out in front of her—“just waiting to be destroyed. I clubbed him on the side of the head and he began screaming like a little bitch.”
I pushed Cade’s head back and saw a split along his temple. It was a separate injury from his nose. “You hit him twice?”
“Yeah…he was still moving after the first one.”
CHAPTER 16
3:00 PM
It hadn’t taken long for us to find a clearing in the woods large enough for Ben Baxter—our department’s helicopter pilot—to land his helicopter, but the hospital visit took a little bit of forever. When Dawn and I finally got Cade Baryon to Payneville and were seated across from him in the interview room, I read him his rights and asked if he was willing to speak to us.
His swollen eyes shifted warily from the rights form on the table in front of him to Dawn, and then back to me. “Is she going to pistol-whip me again?” His voice sounded nasally and I stifled a chuckle.
“Are you going to swing another tree branch at me?” Dawn asked in a stern voice. When he didn’t answer, she leaned forward. “Are you?”
Her brown eyes were slits and I knew she was still pissed at him for trying to knock her head off.
Cade knew it too, and cowered in his chair. “I…I already told you I was sorry about that.”
Dawn grunted at how pathetic he looked and stood to her feet. “I’ll be outside in the observatory, but I’ll be watching closely.”
When she had closed the door behind her, Cade seemed to breathe a little easier. “She scares the shit out of me.”
“You didn’t seem too scared when you tried to take her head off with that tree trunk.”
“I thought she was someone else.”
“Who?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know who…I just didn’t think y’all were cops.”
“Well, now that you know who we are,” I began, “are you willing to talk to me about your arrangement with Wilton Michot?”
“I didn’t have no arrangement with Wilton.”
“Something was going on between y’all, considering he was going to pay you five thousand dollars for that piece of shit.” I folded my arms in front of my chest. “Time to come clean, Cade. Otherwise, you risk making us think you had something to do with his murder.”
Cade’s rough face lost all of its color. “Murder? Wilton was murdered?”
I nodded. “Someone wanted him dead and I want to know why.”
“How would I know? I barely even talk to him. Hell…that was the first time we’d talked in quite a while. At least three months.”
“What’d y’all talk about that last time?”
“The same thing.”
“What thing?” I asked.
“I had a car to sell.”
I tapped my pen on the desk as I studied Cade. There was something about him I didn’t trust. “How often would you sell cars to Wilton?”
Cade shrugged. “You know…whenever I needed the money.”
“And where would you get these cars?”
“Different ways.”
“Really? What were some of those ways?”
“Usually, I would find an old car in someone’s yard and offer to take it off their hands in exchange for some work.”
“What kind of work?”
“I’d do anything, really, but mostly odd jobs around their house.”
“And this worked?” I didn’t know if I believed him. “They’d just agree to give you their old cars if you did odds and ends around the yard?”
He nodded. “You’d be surprised what people would do to get rid of junk cars.”
“If they were junk, why would Wilton buy them?”
“They weren’t complete junk. I mean, Wilton would have his mechanics fix them up and they’d sell them at the used car lot and turn a profit.”
I shook my head. “There’s no way he’d make a profit on that old car in your yard if he bought it for five grand.”
Cade’s head bopped from side to side. “Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a little. You know, claiming the offer was bigger so I could try to squeeze more money out of Ms. Dawn.”
“Well then, how much did he really offer you?”
“Am I going to still get paid for the car?”
“Nope.”
He sighed and lowered his head sheepishly. “It was closer to five hundred.”
I was quiet for a moment, then said, “Well, it seems you were the last person to see him alive, so you need to explain where you were Sunday night.”
“I was home all night.”
“What time did Wilton visit you?”
Cade was thoughtful. “I don’t wear a watch, so the hours all run into each
other, if you know what I mean, but it was dark outside.”
“How long was he at your house when—”
“Wait a minute!” Cade sat upright in his chair. “I wasn’t the last person to see him alive?”
“No? Then who was?”
“I don’t know, but there was a woman in his truck when he stopped by my house.”
“A woman?” I glanced at the two-way mirror, wanting to ask Dawn what she thought. “What’d she look like?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I didn’t see her face, only the back of her head. She didn’t get out of the truck.”
“Did you notice anything at all about the back of her head?” I pressed.
“Um…” He was thoughtful for several seconds and then snapped his fingers. “Yes! I do remember something…she had long black hair.”
“Long black hair?”
“Yes, sir…she had long black hair. I’m positive about that.”
I made notes of his last comments and then went back over his story again, getting more details about his activities on the days before, on, and after Wilton’s murder. When I’d asked everything I could think of, I stood to walk out of the room.
“Can I go home now?” he asked.
I laughed. “Are you on crack? You tried to take my partner’s head off with an oak tree. You’re going to jail.”
CHAPTER 17
“Do you think he knows more than he’s saying?” Dawn asked as we watched a deputy lead Cade Baryon to his patrol cruiser.
“I’m not sure, but I don’t trust him.” We turned away and walked toward my truck. “I believe we need to pay another visit to Mrs. Michot.”
“Yeah,” Dawn said. “We need to let her know Wilton was murdered.”
“I was thinking about asking her if she left her house Sunday night.”
“You think she was the long-haired woman with Wilton?”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know this…the one person who can get close enough to a man to kill him is his wife, and this wife has a lot of reasons to kill her man. Maybe she followed him and caught him yet again with another woman. Maybe she finally grew tired of his shenanigans. Maybe Sunday was the night she finally snapped and decided she wanted out of the relationship.” I nodded my head. “I can think of a dozen reasons why she’d want him dead, and I can’t think of another person who could get close enough to him to shove an ice pick through his ear—and let’s not forget it happened at his own house.”
Dawn was quiet as we stepped into my truck and rode off. Finally, she said, “You know, if he’s going around indiscriminately infecting women, we could have a long list of possible suspects. And considering how little respect he has for his wife, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s taken women to the pool house for his little romps.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t.
Dawn started reviewing her notes while I drove. “After we visit Katina, I think we should stop by Twisted Long Necks.”
“Why?” I asked. “Do you need a drink?”
“Oh, Lord…I wouldn’t drink bottled water from that place.”
I’d been in that bar more times than I wanted to admit, but none of the visits were for pleasure. I finally turned into the driveway of the Michot estate and shut off the engine.
“Who’s leading?” I asked. Having worked with different detectives over the years, I’d recognized that Dawn’s style of interviewing matched my own—we both sat back and allowed the other to conduct the interview with minimal interruption—and I greatly appreciated it. Nothing killed the flow of an interview more than another detective jumping in and asking a random question that didn’t pertain to the current line of questions.
“I’ll take her,” Dawn said. “I feel like we connected earlier.”
We had to knock several times before Katina Michot jerked the door open. She wore sweat pants and an oversized T-shirt. It was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra and there wasn’t a hint of makeup on her flushed face. She pulled back when she saw us. “Oh! I wasn’t expecting you two. Is there something wrong?”
Dawn frowned. “I’m sorry about dropping in unannounced, but something’s come up and we need to speak with you right away.”
Curiosity spread across Katina’s face as she stepped back and let us inside. When I walked by her, I smelled wine on her breath. I glanced at Dawn and she nodded, indicating she smelled it, too.
Katina pointed the way to the kitchen and asked us to take a seat at a long bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Once we were seated, she made her way to the opposite side of the bar and leaned her back against the kitchen counter, facing us and cradling a glass of red wine in her hands. “So, what’s going on?”
“Ma’am, you might want to sit for this,” Dawn said slowly. “It’s about your husband.”
Katina shook her head. While her eyes were puffy and red, they were dry. “Just say it. Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse than what’s already happened.”
After taking a deep breath, Dawn exhaled slowly. “Well, ma’am, the coroner has been able to determine the cause of death in this case, which helped determine the manner of death.”
Katina’s face scrunched up. “What do you mean by cause and manner of death?”
“In the simplest of terms, the cause of death is the action that caused your husband’s death, and the manner is the classification the coroner assigns to the case.” Dawn paused for a second. When she continued, she explained that the manner of death was homicide.
“Homicide?” Katina coolly took a sip of her wine and nodded slowly. “So, doesn’t that mean he was murdered?”
“It does.”
“I see.” She stared down at her glass, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “Was it an angry husband?”
“Well, it seems whoever killed him had to get real close to do it,” Dawn explained. “So close, they had to be intimate.”
Katina looked up. “His lover killed him?”
“At the moment, we’re not sure who killed him, but we’re hoping you can help us.”
“I’ve already told you everything I know.”
Dawn’s brow furrowed as she studied Katina closely. The lack of emotion from the recently widowed woman had probably aroused her curiosity, as it had mine. “Ma’am, you do realize your husband was murdered, right? Someone shoved an ice pick in his ear.”
That brought a reaction from Katina, but only in the form of a raised eyebrow. “An ice pick? Who kills someone with an ice pick these days?”
Katina sipped from the glass of wine again and Dawn stood and walked around the bar. She stopped when she was standing beside Katina. They stood there staring at each other for a long moment and I began to wonder if they would start fighting, but Dawn finally put a hand on her shoulder.
“Do you need to speak with someone about what’s happened…a professional, perhaps?”
Katina shrugged a slender shoulder. “What good would that do?”
“It might help you cope with what’s happened.”
“I’m coping just fine, thank you very much.” Katina turned away from Dawn and reached for the wine bottle. She poured what was left of it in her glass and took a long drink. When she set it down on the counter, she wiped her mouth on her short sleeve, leaving a red stain on the fabric.
“Do you know I cried myself to sleep last night?” She nodded, drumming the glass on the counter. “I cried for hours and hours before I finally fell asleep. When I woke up this morning, you know what I realized?”
“What?” Dawn asked.
“I realized it was just another miserable and lonely night in my house. I’ve been crying myself to sleep for years…ever since I caught Wilton with Lisa in that damn pool. It hurt so bad, you know? Like he had reached in my chest with a flaming fist and just ripped my heart right out.” She shook her head. “Try as I might, I couldn’t get over the pain and betrayal I felt
. I couldn’t look in his eyes anymore. And it only got worse as we grew farther apart. He was out of control, sticking his dick in everyone he could find.”
I looked at Dawn and scrunched my brow. She’d noticed, too, but didn’t say anything. After a moment of silence, Katina continued.
“I’m used to sleeping alone because he was never there for me, so not much will change around here.” She downed the last of the wine and nodded. “Yep, the only thing that’ll change is I won’t have to listen to the lies anymore. I’ll finally be able to live my life in peace.”
Dawn pointed out the kitchen window toward her cabana. “Aren’t you a bit concerned about the fact that someone murdered your husband right over there?”
“If they would’ve wanted me dead, they would have already done it.” She shook her head. “No, I’m not one bit worried, because they got who they wanted.”
As I watched this woman interacting with Dawn, I was struck by how bitter she was. Surely, it was a strong enough emotion to compel her to kill her husband.
“Ma’am, you do realize that we performed a sex crimes kit on your husband, right?” Dawn asked.
“So?”
“So, if you were the one who killed him while y’all were having sex, then we’ll find your DNA on him.”
Katina broke out in a guttural laugh. “That’s a good one! He hasn’t touched me in months, so you won’t find my DNA anywhere around him. Hell, we don’t even drink after each other anymore.”
Dawn glanced at her notepad, then said, “You mentioned earlier that Wilton would stick his dick in everyone he could find. I was curious why you didn’t say every woman.”
“I said everyone because he sticks his dick in everyone he can get his hands on—man or woman.”
I began to wonder if the wine was clouding Katina’s judgment and making her embellish her husband’s affairs.
“Wait a minute,” Dawn said. “Is he bisexual?”
“He’s try-sexual—he’ll try any damn thing out there. He’d probably screw a muffler if you put lipstick on it.”
Dawn looked at me and then turned back to Katina. “What do you know about his relationship with Cade Baryon?”
