“I found out BJ Donovan planned to meet some detective named Raynor Schein,” Gary explained. “There is no Schein in the department. But here,” he pointed to the house, “is where she planned to meet him. Have you seen her?”
“I just got here.” Lucas tilted his head at Wentzel’s car. “He’s here, though. You think Wentzel is the mysterious Schein?”
“At this point, I don’t know what to think.” A couple of forgotten details came to his mind unbidden. Beau told him that ever since BJ got her book published she’s been flitting all around the south coast. But BJ told him that her husband would never let her travel any great distance without him. How much of everything she’s told him has been the truth? He looked forward to asking her. First and foremost, he had to find her.
They examined the squad car.
Lucas reached in, and switched off the lights. “Any idea what happened here?”
Gary squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, mostly to clear his mind. He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “BJ, where are you?”
Lucas jerked. “Damn. Warn a fellow next time, okay?”
“Sorry. C’mon.”
Leading with their guns, they headed for the rear of the house. Approached the barn cautiously, heads turning this way and that, watching and listening for any signs of movement.
“We need more light,” Lucas whispered. “Follow my lead.”
They parked their cars in front of the barn. Hit the bright lights almost at the same time. If Wentzel were hiding inside, he’d be fairly easy to find. Each took hold of one of the barn doors, and swung it wide open. They stood just inside the entrance. Shined their flashlights top to bottom, side to side. The building appeared to be roughly eighty feet long, fifty feet wide, and forty feet high; the loft about twenty feet up.
Something in the far left corner caught Cantin’s eye. Thinking he’d seen a few strands of hay falling from the loft, he moved toward, playing the flashlight beam across the underside. The floor beneath his feet creaked then sagged. He put the light on his shoes.
“Don’t move, Lucas.”
Lucas hadn’t planned to. He also hadn’t heard Gary walk over to him. Could have easily been Jeff Wentzel.
Northcutt added his light to Cantin’s. “Go easy,” he whispered as though the very sound of his voice would cause the board to collapse.
Lucas lifted one foot at a time, moved backward the two steps required to clear the board.
They looked at the floor then at each other.
“Come on,” Gary hollered.
They lay their flashlights down with the beam angled across the board. Sliding the board out of the way, they discovered another loose one. Casting it aside as well, they shined their lights in the hole.
The sight of her took Gary’s breath away. “BJ.”
She was on her stomach; her face turned away from them. Hands tied behind her back with a nylon rope. Her legs were bent at the knees, and leaned against the dirt wall on her right. Her feet were tied together with duct tape. Duct tape had also been wrapped around her head sealing her mouth shut. They couldn’t tell if she was breathing. They could tell, though, that the hole was too narrow for her, much less for them.
Lucas found a grappling hook and a long rope.
Gary got hold of a ladder leaning against the wall next to one of the doors. He stuck it in the ground by her left side. Started climbing down even though common sense told him he didn’t have enough room. The sides of his long coat flared out enough to block his view of her. He pulled the ladder out, and chucked it aside. Knelt beside the hole, and assessed his options. Unable to bear the sight of her lying there in the dirt, he closed his eyes.
Lucas startled him when he tossed the hook in the hole. He doled out enough rope until the hook rested on her back. Very carefully, Gary tried to maneuver the hook under the rope around her wrists. On the sixth try he had it where he wanted it. A slight tug, he set the hook. Holding tight, he passed the rope to Lucas. Jerked off his coat, and laid flat on the floor. Gary stretched out his arms, and readied himself to grab hold of her when Lucas got her up high enough.
Less than two feet away, Gary reached down and clamped his hands under her arms. “Help me.” He scooted backward, lifting her a few inches higher. Lucas let go of the rope. Together they pulled her over the edge and laid her down. Gary quickly untied the nylon rope around her wrists. He rolled her over. Jerked back, reflexively.
It wasn’t BJ Donovan.
“Wh-who…?”
“I’ll be damned,” said Lucas in a sad tone, “it’s Yeager. Officer Renee Yeager.”
“Ah damn.”
Gary gently peeled the tape off her face. No way of knowing yet how long she’d been dead. With her long blonde hair and petite build, someone used her to make him and Cantin think it was BJ. But why? And how’d the kidnapper slash killer know the detectives would come in the barn and find her?
“Why the hell did he tape her mouth and bind her arms and legs? Surely he must’ve killed her in the alley. Am I missing something here?” Gary lit a cigarette. Slid his leg toward his chest and propped his arm on his knee.
Lucas didn’t answer. He continued walking to his car so he could call whoever the hell he was supposed to call in a shitty situation such as this.
He returned minutes later. Joined Gary, who leaned against a support beam with his back to Yeager. Lucas found it difficult to look at her, too. What a damn shame.
The wail of sirens broke the heavy silence.
The cavalry’s arrived, Lucas thought, glumly. Too late to do this rookie any good.
He dropped his cigarette butt on the floor, and crushed it under his foot. Picked up the shredded remains and held them in his hand. “Don’t forget yours. We shouldn’t even be smoking in here.”
“I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
I know, thought Lucas.
“If we had done our job right in the first place, this,” Gary pointed in Yeager’s direction, “wouldn’t have happened.”
Lucas frowned. “That’s simply not true. We just put it all together too late to prevent Renee’s murder. Investigating Wentzel’s background, we learned about this place. But that was only because he was honest with some of his answers on the questionnaire. You’re overlooking an important fact. It was a cop who had done this horrible thing. Someone trained to get into the mind of a killer. We know Wentzel’s been hot’n heavy about joining the detective division. He’s always reading shit. There’s also the fact that, since he’s one of us, he was right there during the investigation. He knew each step we were going to take before we took it.” Lucas shrugged. “That’s how he stayed one step ahead of us. How he knew we’d come here. As to why he’s done all this shit I, uh, can’t say at this time.”
“I hear you. Doesn’t make it any better, though.”
Gary and Lucas shut off their headlights. They caught the fading glow of taillights on the tow truck hauling Wentzel’s squad car away.
Several officers, pros and rookies alike, continued to mill about, searching the house and the barn. Some had gone as far as the covered bridge. Checked it high and low.
“Nothing so far, sir.” An officer reported to Northcutt.
“Thanks for your help. Tell the others to call it a night. Our disgraced rookie is on the run.”
CHAPTER 76
As soon as she heard the car pass by earlier she took off running. Heard a woman scream. Heard a gunshot. Ran nonstop until she reached her car.
BJ drove across the back field at breakneck speed. Caught sight of an old rusted out car partly hidden in a briar patch.
She parked in the woods several yards past the covered bridge. Retrieved a miniature bottle of tequila hidden in a small vinyl trash bag dangling off the built-in cigarette lighter. Emptied the bottle in two swallows.
She watched cops check every inch of the bridge. Some went down to the creek, apparently not thinking about snakes. An errant beam of light grazed the fr
ont bumper. She grasped the door handle.
CHAPTER 77
“See you later, Gary. I’ve put in a sixteen-hour shift today. Time to hit the sack.”
Lucas stretched and yawned.
“Me, too. We’ll catch the bastard tomorrow.”
They returned to their cars still parked in front of the barn.
Lucas cranked his engine, put down the window on the passenger side. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Gary nodded. Standing by the driver side of his car, he squatted, pretended to tie his shoelace. Hoped Lucas didn’t notice he’d worn loafers. He watched the taillights on Cantin’s car until he turned left past the house and fade from view.
He trotted to the edge of the road. Continued to watch Cantin’s taillights until they disappeared completely. By the light of a full moon, Gary checked both directions. Walked out and stood in the middle of the road.
Everyone was gone.
He hiked his collar up to ward off the chill caused by a cold front that had descended on the city at the tail end of the thunderstorm. Shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth.
Gary wanted Wentzel all to himself.
He propped a foot on the rear bumper of his car, rested an arm on his thigh, and finished smoking a cigarette. He pitched the butt in a mud puddle. Damn. He’d get it later.
Gary got in his car, and drove into the barn. Parked on the right behind a pegboard wall. Shut off the lights and motor. Left the key in the ignition.
He had a sneaky suspicion Wentzel would do the same thing he’d do, if their roles were reversed. Walk to the nearest payphone. Call a cab. Get out of town without going home first. Wentzel had to know they were on to him. He’d know his downtown apartment’s being staked out. More than that, he knew Wentzel would want to look, before he left town, just to be sure Renee Yeager’s body had been found. He’d stand over her grave and reminiscence about putting her down there.
Gary crossed to the left side of the barn. Switched on his flashlight, and set it on the floor where it shined over the exposed hole. He walked out, closed the doors.
He started to hide behind the elm by the barn. Figured it’s a bad choice. Hurried to the one Wentzel had hit out front. Ducked down.
Damn, this idea’s worse. He can see me from every side.
He ran toward the barn, veered left and found a smaller tree a little farther away than the elm. It wasn’t as plump in the trunk as the other two, but it would do.
Gary refrained from lighting another cigarette thereby revealing his hiding place. Admonished himself for even taking up the habit again. In all the years he’d been a cop he’d never had a personal connection to any of the cases he worked on.
He tried to figure out what one had to do with the other.
Sitting on his haunches, his hands gripping both sides of the tree to maintain his balance, he hoped he didn’t have to wait long. His right leg, injured in a car wreck when he was a teen, had already begun to cramp.
A slight noise. Somewhere to his right. He held his breath. Heard it again. An animal? He cursed the brightness of the moon, the same brightness he appreciated having a little while ago. The sound of someone walking along the road, his or her shoes making a suction noise in the thick mud, just got a little louder.
A low and dense cloud drifted across the moon. Gary ducked, tried to become one with the darkness. Although grateful he’d chosen to wear his black overcoat, he was even more grateful the rain had ended. He doubted he’d have heard the walker on the road.
He leaned a little to his right. Couldn’t hear the odd sound any longer. Had he stopped to light a cigarette? Changed direction? Gotten off the road and onto the grass?
About to stand, Gary’s cramped leg made a popping sound equivalent to a finger snap. He grunted. Quickly stretched his leg out to massage the calf. A swift blow to the back of his head ended the problem.
CHAPTER 78
Jeff Wentzel closed the panel of the secret compartment.
Decided it’d be better to stay put.
He’d heard all the commotion earlier while he was busy dumping the crazy lady in the pond. He never did find out who the hell she was. She wasn’t mamma. That’s all that mattered.
He tried to get to the hidey-hole in the attic, but cops were everywhere. He ran to the covered bridge. Got underneath, and wrapped his arms and legs around a support beam.
It became abundantly clear they were searching for him. Why? He didn’t know. He thought he’d covered his tracks every step of the way. One thing he did know, they’d have his apartment in the city under surveillance.
What they didn’t know was that he had a new place in the French Quarter. Fate had surely stepped in that day. He’d hole up for a while, then skip town. Maybe head out west somewhere.
While at the bridge, he saw them coming for him. Mostly, he saw the beams of many flashlights bobbing this way and that. He felt the way Frankenstein must’ve felt when the village people came for him. Jeff couldn’t help snickering. An image of the butterfly hairclip entered his mind, and knocked the stupid smile off his face. The one thing he didn’t understand was how did BJ get it? If she’s the one who put the hairclip in his glove compartment, that is. He knew, without a doubt, he’d put the ugly thing in the sack with her clothes, and dumped it in the pond with her.
Oh. Wait.
He’d forgotten its mate had disappeared, “Along with the knife. Ah well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I’ll be gone after tonight.”
Before going into hiding, or leaving the city for good, he had one last thing to do. He wanted to say goodbye to mamma the only way he knew how.
Jeff opened the panel.
Standing to one side of the octagonal window, he studied the yard.
No flashlight beams. No static from radios. No guns and handcuffs. No people. And thank god, no bloodhounds from hell. His stomach growled. Hunger overrode his curiosity over why dogs hadn’t been brought in. Maybe there wasn’t enough time to bother?
His heart froze.
“I’ll bet they’re en route.”
Jeff remembered the dish covered with tinfoil on the kitchen table. He took the stairs one at the time. Made it to the second floor without encountering anyone. He patted his pocket, made sure he hadn’t left his flashlight upstairs. Before he got to the bottom he could see the front door was closed. He rested his right hand on the newel post and listened.
Not one single solitary sound. He clicked on his flashlight. Just eat and run. Lifted the foil. Gagged. The fruit pie (apple?) had spoiled from lack of refrigeration. A splotch of greenish mold bigger than a silver dollar topped one side of the dried-up crust.
“Bleh!”
He doubted there was anything else to eat. Knew a half empty bottle of whiskey was in the cabinet. He glimpsed at the pie, figured the liquor was long gone.
Let’s get this show on the road.
He hurried out to the barn. Opened one of the doors. First thing he noticed was the flashlight. Jeff didn’t know how he felt about that. He stayed by the entrance, and calculated the situation. Scanned the area for any other messages.
He rubbed the side of his neck. Grew uneasy.
Did they find out mamma had been thrown down the hole?
Jeff took a deep breath.
With the weight of the world on his shoulders, he trudged forward. Stared down at the darkness, and thought about his mamma. He pictured his father doing the same thing; only he would’ve been smiling, maybe guzzling liquor, too.
He was deeply saddened by the thought of his mamma lying in the hole all those years until the three boys found her. Although he knew where his father had buried her, it took many years for Jeff to find enough courage to set foot in the barn.
Jeff spent the same amount of time planning revenge against the person he knew was responsible for the death of his mamma. His sister. If she hadn’t been born, his father wouldn’t have had a reason to kill his wife. Virgil Wentzel killed her as surely as if he
had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Leaving her in the loft to bleed to death had been premeditated murder in Jeff’s eyes.
He blamed mamma for many things, but mostly for having the affair, and then for giving birth to an evil child. He’d hidden in the secret place the entire time she was in labor and prayed for her to die before she gave birth to someone who’d take away any and all affection that rightfully belonged to him.
He recalled his father’s drunken rampage and how it had frightened him enough to run to the attic in the first place. Recalled seeing his father drive off with the tiny bundle in the front seat of his pickup truck. Saw him return with the little spawn of Satan in his arms. Recalled, when Bonnie got a little older, all the times she did voodoo shit to cause him real psychical pain.
Jeff was relieved beyond belief when she was sent to Chalmette to live with Uncle Jessup and the missus. But for the next eight years, Jeff’s backside suffered the hate and misery of a father’s guilty conscience.
He and his father lived in almost abject silence. Except for when his father ordered him to do all of the chores his Marie used to do. And that was only when Virgil was sober. He’d noticed his father spent a lot of time drinking, in the barn.
More than anything, Jeff remembered how hard he prayed for his sister to die while she was in a coma at the hospital.
Then there was BJ Donovan.
He was alone and lonely when he met her online. They had fun.
For a while.
He figured he must’ve pressed her with his incessant desire to meet her to the point where he’d either scared her off or he’d just lost her interest. Whichever the reason he found it damn near impossible to leave her alone. Perhaps because he had unburdened his soul to her on the Internet, and he, stupidly, thought it should mean something to her.
He still had strong feelings for BJ, but they were of a different nature. All along there’d been a sense of familiarity.
Long Night Moon (Bad Mojo Book 1) Page 22
