by BJ Bourg
We had placed Cade in a body bag that Ben had given us and loaded him up, sending Kevin to escort Cade’s body to the morgue. Dawn and I had remained at the scene of the destruction, waiting for Ben to return with help. We hadn’t said a whole lot to each other while waiting for Ben. We were both tired and spent some of the time napping, because we knew we’d need the rest later.
Now, as Dawn and I walked toward the landing zone, I noticed the trees to our right were blocking the sunrise and it kept us in the shadows—at least for the moment. There was a brilliant, orange glow from the east that was spreading like a wildfire across the sky—burning away the darkness as it moved westward—and I knew it would be a matter of minutes before this whole area was lit up.
I scanned the heavens and was relieved to see there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Of course, I knew that could change in an instant, considering how near we were to the Gulf. With all the work we had left to do, we couldn’t afford another violent thunderstorm.
We were about twenty yards from the helicopter when Rachael and Melvin jumped out, each carrying a chainsaw in their hands and a rucksack slung over their backs.
“Do you have the jacks?” I asked.
Melvin shot a thumb toward the rucksacks. “They’re in the bags.”
A moment later, Sheriff Chiasson stepped out of the helicopter and he was followed shortly by Captain Boutin, who held onto the railing as he climbed down. Once they were on solid ground, they approached us and the sheriff us up and down.
Our clothes were stiff and muddy and I knew I had to smell like swamp rot. Dawn didn’t. She had rested her head against my shoulder during the night and I’d caught a whiff of her sweet scent. I didn’t understand how she could still smell good after all we’d been through, but it was real.
“Damn, London, this place is worse than Kevin described—y’all are worse than he described.” Sheriff Chiasson surveyed the destruction and then shot a thumb toward the large tree branch that had fallen from the ancient oak. “Is that where the dead man is trapped?”
I nodded. “We managed to get him in the ground before the tornado hit, so he stayed in place, but that branch fell over the hole and we can’t get to him.”
The sheriff rubbed his gaunt cheeks and scowled. I’d seen that same expression on his face when he’d gone out to where Dean had been killed. “Where…where is Stella’s body?” he asked.
I pointed toward the canal, where a gnarled mess of trees and shrubbery was strewn about. “She’s trapped underneath one of those trees. We’re going to have to be careful getting her out, because a branch impaled her. I know she’s gone, but I don’t want to cause more damage to her when we recover her body.”
“A branch impaled her?” Sheriff Chiasson echoed.
“Yeah.” I frowned. “It looks like the tree knocked her to her face before one of the branches entered her back—right between the shoulder blades—and went clean through her. I tried to get the tree off of her, but it was no use. I couldn’t even budge it. I was able to get around it and feel for a pulse, but she had none.”
“She was six weeks from retirement,” the sheriff said. “I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to her husband.”
I only nodded and then led the way toward Stella’s remains. When we reached the area, I took one of the chainsaws and cranked it up. I began cutting away the smaller trees that blocked our access to Stella’s body. While I did that, Sheriff Chiasson took the other chainsaw and shaved the limbs from the tree that had fallen on Stella.
We worked for about two hours before we finally cleared an area large enough to reach Stella. Next, we placed some of the larger limbs side-by-side on the ground on either side of her body to serve as platforms for the hydraulic jacks. Once the jacks were in place, Dawn began working one and I worked the other, making sure to lift it in unison.
As the large tree trunk slowly lifted with each pump of the jacks, the branch that had punched a giant hole through Stella began to rise from the earth.
“Oh, shit.” Captain Boutin turned away from us and leaned against a nearby tree, gagging. When he had composed himself, he spoke over his shoulder, careful not to look in our direction. “Stella’s body is stuck to the branch—she’s rising with it.”
“I know,” I said. “We need that to happen.”
Sweat had formed on my forehead and I brushed it away with my arm. The jack was getting harder to work and I had to throw all of my weight into the lever to make it move.
“I’m not heavy enough to get it higher.” Dawn stepped back and waved Melvin over. “Why don’t you try? You obviously spend more time at the buffet than I do.”
We all laughed—except Captain Boutin—and Melvin nodded his agreement. “I do like to eat.”
“How in the hell can y’all laugh and talk about eating at a time like this?” Boutin’s face was twisted in disgust. “This is so disrespectful to Stella. She doesn’t deserve this kind of—”
“It’s okay, Carl,” the sheriff said. “They don’t mean any disrespect. If we can’t joke through times like this, we’ll all go crazy.”
I suddenly realized Captain Boutin had never been on a death scene before—or, at least, not one involving an officer. While the rest of us had long ago been desensitized to death and violence, I knew it could be disconcerting for a first-timer, so I mumbled an apology. The others followed suit, with the exception of the sheriff. He used to be the captain of detectives and didn’t have much patience for those who couldn’t handle themselves at a crime scene.
“Why don’t you go babysit the chopper,” Sheriff Chiasson told Boutin. “Let us handle this.”
Captain Boutin only nodded as he walked off through the debris field, wiping his eyes as he went.
Melvin threw his weight against the jack he was working and I continued working my jack, bouncing on it from time to time to get it cranking. Finally, the tree trunk was high enough to fit a chainsaw under Stella’s body without cutting her.
We stepped back and surveyed our work for a second. The platform the jacks were resting on had pressed into the ground under the weight of the tree, and I could swear they were sinking ever so slightly.
“We have to hurry,” I said, and snatched up one of the chainsaws. Cranking it up, I got on my face and squirmed forward on my belly until I was able to get the blade of the chainsaw beside the branch that was stuck through Stella.
“Be careful, London,” Dawn warned. “If the jacks give way, it’ll crush you.”
I nodded and pressed the trigger on the chainsaw. The blade screamed as it rotated and the machine vibrated in my hands. Squinting to keep the sawdust from flying in my eyes, I pushed it against the branch. My palms began to seat as the blade sliced through the branch under Stella’s body. Dawn was right; if the jacks slipped I was in real trouble, so I needed to get this done as quickly as possible.
The blade was halfway through the limb when the chain began to stick a little. I backed off and changed my angle of attack, cutting in from forty-five degrees above my original cut. Within seconds I broke through to the other side and released the trigger before the blade could dig into the mud. I backed out from under the tree and wiped the film of thick sawdust from my sweaty arms.
I glanced at the jacks. “Are they holding up?”
“Yeah,” Melvin said. “They’re looking good.”
I turned my attention to the space above Stella’s body. I gauged the distance between her body and the tree trunk to be about eight inches. Not much wiggle room.
“I’m going to cut the top part of the branch that’s holding Stella in place,” I said, and then pointed to her feet. “Get ready to pull her out. We might not have much time.”
Melvin and Rachael each grabbed one of Stella’s outstretched legs and nodded to let me know they were ready. I took a breath and crawled back under the tree, this time on my back so I could support the chainsaw and not cut Stella’s body.
“What about you?” Dawn asked. “How are you sup
posed to get out if it falls?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, and smashed down on the trigger. As carefully as I could, I slid the blade of the chainsaw between the tree trunk and Stella’s body and went to work. As the chain sliced through the branch, it kicked a steady stream of thick sawdust in my face, causing me to close my eyes and purse my lips.
“Hey,” Dawn called. “It looks like the jack is moving.”
I only grunted and kept pushing the blade forward, knowing it had to break through to the other side at any second.
“London, I’m serious, it’s moving.” There was a sense of urgency to Dawn’s tone.
“I’m almost there,” I said, taking in a mouthful of tiny wood chips in the process. I began spitting the chips from my mouth, but it only made things worse. Suddenly, the chainsaw shot forward and I quickly released the trigger.
“London, get out of there!” Dawn hollered. “It’s slipping!”
I tried opening my eyes, but I was blinded by the sawdust. Although I couldn’t see, there was no mistaking the rumbling I felt as the tree crashed toward the ground.
CHAPTER 35
Friday, October 5
It was a little after midnight when Dawn stepped out of the shower. She dried up and walked to the mirror, where she stopped to inspect her face and hair. It had taken nearly an hour to wash every bit of the mud off, but it still felt like there were tiny clumps of crud stuck to her body, especially her scalp. And that smell of rotten muddy water…she couldn’t get it out of her nose.
Resisting the urge to take yet another shower, she dried her hair and dressed for bed. She let out a long sigh when she stretched out on top of the bedspread, too weary to pull it back. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired. Every muscle in her body felt like rubber and she had a hard time catching a deep breath. She’d heard that shortness of breath was a key indicator of a heart attack and, given the enormous amount of stress she’d undergone over the last thirty-something hours, she wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to find herself dead in the morning.
Although she was so tired, her body was tense and it took a while to finally relax into the mattress. She felt herself slipping away. She was aware of the pull-chain on the ceiling fan rattling gently against the globe and then she was out.
As Dawn slept, her mind began to wander and play tricks on her. She dreamed she was home again and her mom was telling her she had killed her dad in his sleep. She began comforting her mom and telling her it had been justified, that she had done what she had to do in order to survive. As she was comforting her mom, her brother ran into the room screaming that the jack had slipped out from under the car and killed their dad while he was changing the tire—
Dawn jerked to a seated position and stared wildly about her room, trying to figure out where she was. Sweat poured down her face and her hands shook as she remembered the hydraulic jack slipping out from under the tree. The thunderous cracking sound, the screams, the confusion…it all came flooding back and she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited on the floor.
Cursing out loud and covering her mouth with her hands, she hurried to the bathroom and leaned over the toilet. Her stomach convulsed and she threw up again. She stayed there until she was certain she was finished. Grabbing a towel from the countertop, she wiped her mouth and then sat there gasping. She felt as though she had no more energy, but she forced herself to get up and clean the mess on her floor. After brushing her teeth and rinsing with mouthwash, she looked at her phone.
Five o’clock! Damn, it feels like I’ve only been sleeping for ten minutes.
Realizing it was fruitless to go back to sleep, she showered again and dressed for work. Unable to eat, she skipped breakfast and drove toward the detective bureau.
It was still too early to go to work when she reached the detective bureau, so she headed for Cynthia Alvey’s house. She wasn’t sure what she’d do when she got there, but she knew she had to do something to save Cynthia. If arresting Hank wouldn’t work and Cynthia wouldn’t leave him, maybe she could try a different tack.
Dawn nodded her head when she saw Hank’s truck parked in the driveway. That’s good. He hasn’t left for work yet. She cruised by the Alvey home and parked on the corner. Leaving her flashers on, she stepped out of her car and walked briskly up the street. She had thought about leaving her pistol behind as a show of good faith, but quickly decided against it. She’d hate to pass up an opportunity to shoot Hank if given the chance.
She had just reached the front of their house when she heard the side door slam. She quickened her pace and rounded the corner just as Hank reached for the handle of his truck door. He didn’t see her until she was almost within arm’s reach. He jerked back and dropped his lunch pail when he saw her.
“What…what the hell are you doing here?”
Dawn raised both hands. “I just want to talk to you for a minute.”
Hank jerked a cell phone from his pocket. “If you take one step toward me I’m calling my lawyer. He’s already advised me to file a lawsuit, and I’m seriously contemplating it. If you’ve come here to harass me, then my mind is definitely made up.”
“I’m not here to harass you and I won’t come any closer.” Dawn took a deep breath, trying hard to hide her disdain. “I just need to ask you one question.”
“What?”
“Do you love Cynthia?”
Hank’s brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”
“Does that mean you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, then, do you love her?”
“Of course I love her.”
“If you love her, then stop hurting her.”
“I already told you, I didn’t hurt her. It was an accident. She fell and hurt herself.”
Dawn sighed, resisting the urge to get in his grill. “Okay, well, why don’t you make sure she doesn’t have any more accidents?”
Hank looked around, then jutted out his chin. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to make sure Cynthia gets to enjoy her life in peace and happiness while she’s still healthy, rather than after she finds out she has terminal cancer. I’m here to make sure you stop beating your wife now—long before you find out she has cancer. If you stop after you find out she’s sick, it’ll seem contrived and you’ll end up regretting all the wasted years you spent kicking her ass instead of loving on her.”
“Cynthia has cancer?”
“No, but you should start acting like she does.”
Hank’s face twisted in confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because my dad beat the shit out of my mom over the course of their entire marriage,” Dawn explained. “He just recently found out she has terminal cancer and only has a short time to live. So, he suddenly stops beating her and becomes the man she’s been wishing he could be. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Hank nodded slowly.
“It took her dying for him to stop hitting her.” Dawn spat the words. “That’s sick! You know what’s even sicker? Although my mom’s dying, she’s happier than she’s ever been—just because that bastard is finally treating her like a lady.” Dawn took a step closer to Hank and shoved a finger in his pale face. “Don’t turn into my dad. Either stop beating on Cynthia or leave her. She doesn’t deserve this shit and you don’t deserve her. But if she insists on being with you, then by God, treat her like a lady while she’s still alive and can appreciate it.”
Hank gulped and nodded.
Dawn wasn’t convinced her lecture had gotten through to him and she had more to say, but her phone rang and interrupted her.
“Don’t make me come back.” As Dawn spun and walked off, she jerked out her phone and answered. It was Doctor Ally Fitch.
“Dawn, I’ve been performing the autopsy on the remains you guys recovered in the woods and I found some items in his possession that might help identify him.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” Dawn rushed t
o her cruiser and sped off, driving straight to the detective bureau. Once she’d parked, she rushed inside and found London sitting at his desk working on reports. She smiled when she saw him. “Here so soon?”
He stood when he heard her voice. “It feels so good to be alive that I didn’t want to waste time sleeping.”
Dawn shuddered as she remembered the moment the jack slipped and the tree came crashing down. Melvin and Rachael had pulled Stella free, but London was lying on his back and unable to move fast enough to get out of harm’s way. She’d seen the look in his eyes as he realized he was about to die, and was astonished at how calm he appeared. “I really thought you were gone.”
He flashed a smile and cocked his head sideways. “And when you grabbed the front of my belt, I thought you were getting frisky. I almost fought you off until I realized you were saving my life.”
Dawn laughed and covered her mouth as a tear slid down her face. She didn’t know what to say, so she just stared at him.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but then stopped. The smile faded and he suddenly became serious. “Dawn, had you not jerked me out from under that tree, I’d be dead right now. I owe you my life.”
She felt embarrassed, so she only said, “I wasn’t about to let you get out of our date that easy.”
CHAPTER 36
Dawn and I found Doctor Ally Fitch leaning over the bones we’d uncovered in Lower Seasville. She was wearing purple scrubs with matching gloves and shoes. She looked up when we walked in and nodded a greeting.
Dawn pointed to her duds. “Way to support Domestic Violence Awareness Month.”
I sighed, thankful Dawn had either forgotten or forgave the doctor for the comment she’d made the last time we were here.
“It’s the least I can do.” She shoved a finger in our direction. “Now, you guys are the true heroes of the cause. You fight for victims every day.”
Dawn smiled, but I detected a hint of sadness in her eyes and I knew she was thinking about her mom. I wanted to say something—do something—to ease her pain, but I didn’t know what or how. So, trying to get her mind on something else, I walked to a stainless steel table at the far end of the autopsy room where Doctor Fitch had placed the tattered clothing from our victim. Beside the clothes were some personal effects. “Did you see this, Dawn?”
