by BJ Bourg
Dawn gently applied her brakes and rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the highway two hundred yards from the front gate to Virgil’s property, which was on the left side of the highway. She leaned over and kissed me. “Please be safe.”
“You, too.” I slipped out of her car and jumped the ditch that ran parallel to the right side of Plymouth Highway. Hitting the ground at a smooth running pace, I dodged palmetto bushes and jumped over cypress knees as I faded into the heavy shadows of the surrounding trees. Thick, low-lying branches slapped at my face and ripped at my ghillie suit as I plunged deeper into the Louisiana jungle, but I didn’t let it slow me down.
After traveling about two hundred feet, I changed course and began heading east, counting my paces so I would know when I was directly across from Virgil’s gate. I was hoping to find a tall tree to climb that would provide adequate concealment and a view of the front of his property, but I stopped dead in my tracks and dropped to my knees when I approached the two-hundred-yard mark.
Before me, there was a tiny clearing with overgrown weeds and a smattering of trees, but the most remarkable thing was the two-story wooden house squatting at the center of the property. The siding was weathered and splintery. The house was clearly abandoned. There were places where the cedar shingles had lost their grip over time and left gaping holes in the roof. A four-by-four treated post at one corner of the front porch had long-ago slipped off the foundation and stabbed into the ground. It was the only thing keeping that part of the awning from collapsing.
I studied the house for several long moments. There were no sounds from inside and no movement that I could see anywhere on the property. Keeping my eyes on the three windows that I could see, I felt around on the ground until I found a stout stick. It had a little weight to it, so I lifted it and launched it into the air, aiming it for the roof of the house. It landed with a sharp crack, but it brought no reaction from inside.
It was an old plantation style home. A wide dirt path—overgrown with weeds—extended northward from the side of the house toward Plymouth Highway. I hadn’t remembered seeing a driveway across from Virgil’s house, but we had come during the night and it was so overgrown that it probably blended with the shoulder of the highway.
I scurried to my right until I could see the back of the structure better. An old dilapidated garage came into view and my heart started to race. Could this be where Debbie and her car had been concealed?
There was a large outdoor wooden stairway leading to the upper level of the home. If I could ascend the stairs and gain access to the inside, I should have a partially obstructed view of Virgil’s gate—and I could do a lot with a partial view.
Although I was confident no one was inside, I pulled out my pistol. As I made my approach, I kept at least one tree positioned between myself and the house. When I ran out of trees, I hurried to the back door of the lower level first, because I wanted to clear the house before I set up a hide upstairs.
I tried the rusted door handle, but it was locked. It was a flimsy knob, so I twisted it forcefully and it snapped. I scowled when the door still didn’t open. I leaned my shoulder firmly against the door and took a breath. With a quick motion, I pushed off explosively with my legs and the door popped inward.
I took a forward step to catch myself and immediately stepped out of the doorway. I slid along the wall as my eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The musky smell of mold greeted my nostrils and made me want to sneeze, but I stifled it. When the room started coming into view, I noticed it was void of furniture and the walls had apparently been ripped out to form one large room.
Wait a minute…
I squinted and made my way toward the far end of the room, where there appeared to be one piece of furniture. As I drew nearer, I realized it was an old metal-framed cot with a dirty iron spring mattress. What alarmed me the most was seeing chains attached to all four corners of the bed. It looked like a torture chamber. I took a step closer and my right foot brushed against something on the floor. Squatting low so I could see in the darkness, I took a sharp breath when I saw a leather bag containing a small sledgehammer, a handful of railroad spikes, and a wood chisel. Next to the bag was a pile of chain and a pair of come-alongs. I pulled my flashlight from a pouch attached to the outside of my drag bag and turned it on. There was a small pile of women’s clothes in the corner of the room and some empty plates and cups strewn about.
I’d found the killer’s lair!
CHAPTER 52
After clearing the lower level of the abandoned home, I holstered my pistol and released my drag bag from my shoulders to pull out my sniper rifle. Next, I dropped to a prone position on the floor about ten feet from the back door and peered through my scope, scanning the trees for any sign of the suspect. I knew I would be exposed once I made my way up the back staircase, so I needed to be sure there were no threats out there.
The sun was going down and the back yard was cloaked in shadows, but it wasn’t completely dark yet. Darkness was a sniper’s close friend and it would be better for me to wait, but I didn’t have that luxury. I had to get up top and get eyes on the front gate to Virgil’s property.
As I lay there trying to penetrate the forest behind the house, I heard Rachael’s voice drone over my earpiece.
“Sierra One, I’m in position on the western side of the Brunner property. There’s movement between the house and an office building.” Rachael paused for a second before giving a description of a white female and a white male. The description matched Virgil and Skylar.
Since she could account for Virgil’s location, I knew I was clear to go upstairs. I quickly scrambled to my feet and exited the lower level, but then stopped when I saw a pile of weathered planks on the ground beside the building. There were six-by-sixes, four-by-fours, and six-by-fours of varying lengths. Several of the boards had already been notched out in preparation for making more crosses.
Shaking my head in anger, I ascended the staircase two steps at a time—careful to skip over the ones that were too rotten to bear my weight. When I reached the door to the top level, it was already open. Holding my rifle in a hip-shooting position, I pushed the door inward with my foot. The hinges squealed and cobwebs hung like moss from the door frame. No one had been up there in quite a while.
Once inside, I moved down a long corridor that was lined with small, empty rooms, heading for a window at the opposite end. I stared toward the north when I reached the window, but the trees were too thick to see Virgil’s gate. I did notice faint tire tracks in the overgrown driveway that led to Plymouth Highway.
I pulled out my cell phone and called Dawn to let her know I’d found the killer’s hideout.
“You what?”
Although she couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Everything was right here under our noses. He was too smart to do anything on his property, so he used this abandoned place as his dungeon.”
She bristled on the other end. “When I get my hands on that prick…”
“I have to move into a better position so I can get a visual on Virgil’s house,” I said. “I’m sending you the coordinates to this location. Can you get Jerry and Andrew out here to secure the scene?”
“Sure.” She ended the call and I hurried down the back staircase. I was wrapping around the house when my radio scratched to life in my earpiece.
“Sierra One, they’re on the move!” Rachael called. “Both parties just entered a vehicle—a dark blue Chevy Tahoe—and they’re heading toward the gate.”
Warren checked in and said he had backed into a sugarcane road west of Virgil’s property and was out of sight, and Dawn was farther west of his position in one of the neighborhoods.
I asked Dawn to begin tailing Virgil and his wife once they passed her location. I then called Warren on the radio.
“Once Dawn’s got them, head this way and pick up Rachael and me.” I then called Jerry on my cell phone.
“Did you hear what’s going on?” I asked when he answered.
“Sounds great.” I shoved my phone inside the front of my ghillie suit and hurried through the trees, making my way toward Plymouth Highway. I was still fifty feet away when I saw headlights zoom by heading west, and I figured that had to be Virgil and his wife. About two minutes later, Dawn radioed that she was tailing them.
When I reached the highway, I remained in the heavy bushes at the edge of the shoulder and waited for Warren. Darkness was falling fast and the area was already alive with the sounds of the Louisiana night life. Cicadas began screaming their death cries and nearly drowned out the other noises. I scowled, wondering if that was how loud our victims had screamed when they were being nailed to the crosses.
CHAPTER 53
I stretched out across the back seat of Warren’s unmarked cruiser and fought to free myself of my ghillie suit. Rachael had shrugged out of hers before jumping into the front seat.
Once I was down to my jeans and shirt, I put on my seatbelt and held on while Warren raced down Plymouth Highway, trying to catch up to Dawn and Virgil. Dawn gave frequent updates about her location and the last we’d heard from her was that they were pulling up to a seafood restaurant in Gracetown. Since then, the radio traffic had been quiet.
“Are you sure Skylar’s the one who called?” Rachael asked me as Warren turned off of Plymouth Highway and we headed north on Highway Three. “It looks like they’re having a date night and she didn’t seem to have a problem with him.”
I couldn’t argue the point. My guess was that she was carrying on as normal until she could make a break from him, or until he was taken into custody. We couldn’t arrest him without evidence, so we had to hope the DNA results came back soon.
“Virgil seemed like a credible guy,” I mused aloud.
“He cheated on his wife—there’s nothing credible about the man,” Rachael countered.
“Cheating doesn’t make you a killer,” Warren said, chiming in as though he had a guilty conscience.
“No, but it makes you a liar,” Rachael retorted. “So we can’t believe anything he says.”
“Just because he lied about an affair doesn’t mean he would lie about everything,” Warren continued. “Covering up an affair is survival. You can do that and still be honest about everything else.”
“Is there something you need to get off your chest?” Rachael asked, raising an eyebrow.
“What’re you talking about?”
Rachael grunted. “It’s starting to sound like your wife needs to hire Virgil to follow you around.”
Warren started to stammer and Rachael smiled triumphantly, knowing she’d pegged him.
I glanced at my phone when Warren pulled into the parking lot of the seafood restaurant. It was almost seven-thirty and I hadn’t heard from Melvin yet. I pointed to Dawn’s car, which was parked in the shadows on the northern end of the lot.
“Drop me off with Dawn,” I said to Warren, “and then set up on the south side, where you can confess your sins to Rachael.”
Rachael giggled as Warren began stammering again. “I didn’t…I’m not cheating!” he insisted.
“Tell it to the priest,” Rachael said, turning away from him.
I slipped out of the back seat and lugged my drag bag and ghillie suit with me. The parking lot was full of cars, but there wasn’t a person around. The smell of fried seafood clung heavily to the night air and my stomach growled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten.
I shoved everything into the back of Dawn’s Charger and slipped into the front passenger’s seat.
“Nothing, eh?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They’ve been inside ever since we got here. You know this place—their food’s the best, but it’s slow.”
I nodded and leaned back in my seat, figuring it was going to be a long night. I was wrong.
A few minutes later Dawn nudged me. “Your phone’s vibrating.”
I reached for my pocket and pulled it out. “I didn’t feel it.”
“Couldn’t you hear it?”
I shook my head.
“I think you’re going deaf,” she said. “All that shooting is messing up your—”
“It’s Melvin!” I quickly answered the call. “What’s the news?”
“It’s him, London—it’s Virgil Brunner.”
“No kidding?”
“The technician extracted DNA from the seal on both envelopes and it matched the DNA from the saliva on both victims. He’s our guy.”
I sighed heavily, wondering how I could’ve missed the signs. Was I so wrapped up in the horrific nature of the case that it threw me off my game? Or was my personal life—the fact that I wanted to wrap this case up so I could propose to Dawn—clouding my judgment?
“Do you want me to type up arrest warrants for two counts of first degree murder? I could have them approved within thirty minutes.”
“Go ahead and get them ready, but wait before getting them signed,” I said. “I want to give Virgil a chance to explain himself first. If he knows we have arrest warrants, he might lawyer up and we’ll lose any chances of obtaining a confession from him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I shoved my phone back in my pocket and turned to Dawn. There was a tortured look on her face.
“I can’t believe we missed it,” she said slowly.
I knew what she was thinking and I told her not to go there.
“I can’t help it.” Her voice was low. “If we would’ve sniffed him out when we first interviewed him, Debbie would still be alive.”
“But there were no warning signs—no red flags.”
That didn’t seem to comfort Dawn. She turned and stared out the window as we waited for Virgil and his wife to finish eating. I did the same.
Forty minutes later the front door to the restaurant opened and Virgil and Skylar walked out holding hands. They were talking about something and Skylar was laughing. Either she was a good actress or we were wrong about her being the tipster.
I keyed up my police radio and called Warren and Rachael. “Let’s move in.”
Dawn and I stepped out of her Charger and made our way casually across the parking lot, just as Warren and Rachael approached from the south. Virgil noticed us and missed a step.
“Detective Carter—is that you?” he asked, craning his neck to see in the dark.
His keys were in his right hand and his left hand was in plain view. Even in the dim light from a nearby lamppost, I could see the color drain from Skylar’s face. I smiled to put Virgil at ease.
“Did you save some food for us?” I asked.
He laughed and nodded, but his face fell when he caught movement behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Warren and Rachael spreading out behind him. When he turned back toward me, there was a quizzical expression on his face. “You’re not here to eat, are you?”
I frowned and shook my head. “I need to ask you more questions about the murders. I think you have some information that might prove helpful.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll follow you to the bureau.”
I stepped forward. “I’d appreciate it if you rode with us.”
He studied my face and I knew he was working through all the possible scenarios in his mind. “Am I under arrest?”
“You’d already be in cuffs if you were under arrest, and we would’ve taken you down at gunpoint.”
He nodded and glanced back over his shoulder. He finally took a breath and exhaled. “Is it okay if Skylar follows us in my Tahoe?”
“Absolutely,” I said, relieved he was willing to come voluntarily. If he would’ve refused, I would’ve gotten the warrant and taken him by force if necessary, but that might’ve caused him to shut down.
We waited while he tur
ned to Skylar, who was trembling and crying, and reassured her that everything was going to be okay. While he thought she was afraid, I knew her emotions were a mixture of fear and guilt as she watched the results of her anonymous tip play out in front of her very eyes.
Rachael stepped forward and offered to drive the Tahoe for her. Virgil agreed and handed Rachael the keys. He then turned toward me and raised his hands. “I guess you’ll want to frisk me before I get in your car?”
CHAPTER 54
While Rachael and Warren kept an eye on Virgil in one of the interview rooms, Dawn and I sat with Skylar in the conference room and recorded her statement.
“How’d you know it was me?” Skylar asked Dawn.
Skylar wore tight jeans and a form-fitting shirt that was low-cut in the front. As though she felt self-conscience about it, she kept pulling the front of her shirt higher on her chest.
“We recognized your voice,” Dawn explained.
“I didn’t want Virgil to be arrested like that in public.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I…I just thought someone would come out to the house and get him. To be honest, I’m not even sure he did it.”
“Well, let’s start with what you do know.” Dawn opened a drawer and removed a box of tissues from inside. She slid it toward Skylar. “When you’re feeling up to it, tell us why you called the tip line.”
Skylar nodded and jerked a tissue from the box. After wiping her eyes, she took a deep breath. “But I don’t know if he did it. I was frightened when I made the call and I think I might’ve overreacted.”
Dawn reached across the desk and patted her forearm. “Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the sole reason we picked him up?”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not?”
