But Not For Lust

by BJ Bourg

  Amy ignored the wheelchair ramp that Baylor had kindly built, choosing instead to use the concrete steps that led to the front sidewalk. The pain in her leg was excruciating, but the doctors had warned her that was to be expected. Since she knew it was normal pain, it didn’t hurt as much. Had the pain been unexplained or unexpected, she might worry that she was doing more damage. However, the professionals had assured her she couldn’t hurt herself more than she already had, so she trudged forward, careful to miss the crack in the sidewalk. Although walking was supposed to hurt, she wasn’t supposed to fall. That—she knew for certain—would cause some problems, and possibly a setback in her recovery.

  When Amy reached the driver’s door to her unmarked cruiser, she paused to catch her breath. The sun was going down and it was growing cooler, but she felt warm. After wiping a rivulet of sweat from her brow, she opened the door and carefully eased herself inside the vehicle. Once she was seated, she gripped the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

  “Ah, it feels so good to be sitting here again,” she said softly, and then began to sing an Aerosmith song her dad used to play all the time. “I’m back! I’m back in the saddle again—”

  She opened her eyes to shove the key in the ignition, but cursed wildly and jerked hard on the steering wheel to avoid an RV that had suddenly appeared in front of her. A woman stood in the open door of the RV and she was spraying the front windshield with bullets.

  Amy found herself screaming and jerking to the left and right, trying to avoid the bullets that were raining down on her. It was several long seconds of violent maneuvering and pain shooting up her leg before she realized she was alone in the car and everything was fine.

  Her heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest, she jerked on the handle and shoved the car door open. She was leaning to her left and lost her balance when the door opened. She spilled out into the driveway, groaning in pain as her left leg banged against the door frame on her way to the ground.

  Panting heavily, her heart racing out of control, she shifted onto her back and stared at the darkening sky.

  “What in the hell is wrong with me?” she cried. “What in the living hell just happened?”

  CHAPTER 19

  The five of us pulled up short at the edge of the embankment and stared in disbelief at the giant ripples in the water below. I was thankful none of us had acted hastily and jumped in after J-Rock. Not only was the bayou shallow along the edges, but there were all sorts of obstacles down there that could impale an unsuspecting person. Over the years, we had removed old bicycles, pieces of pipe, rebar, and even cars from the water. It was a minefield of obstacles down there. It was highly possible J-Rock had dived directly into such an object and died upon impact.

  “He jumped!” I finally said after a long moment of silence. I was keenly aware that they had just witnessed the same thing I had. For some reason, I felt it necessary to state the obvious. “J-Rock actually jumped!”

  “I need to get a boat in the water,” Melvin said, turning quickly to Susan. “If he resurfaces, we’ll never catch him unless we’ve got someone on the water.”

  Susan nodded and said she was taking Melvin back to the police department. As they headed for Susan’s Tahoe, I grabbed my radio and called it in while simultaneously beginning to pick my way down to the lower bank. Baylor and Takecia followed my lead, picking different spots along the embankment to descend to the water’s edge.

  As I half slid and half climbed down the muddy face of the embankment—using roots and shallow toe holds to control my fall—I kept my eyes on the spot where I’d last seen J-Rock. At first, the water had exploded in bubbles and ripples, but it had been reduced to a gentle rocking motion. There were no more bubbles. I didn’t know what that meant. Had he drowned? Or was he holding his breath?

  I began scanning the surface of the water farther out from the bank, looking to see if he would resurface somewhere else. Had it been me and I had survived the dive, I would’ve held my breath and swum along the edge of the bayou, rather than toward the middle. The natural tendency for a criminal would’ve been to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers, which would’ve meant trying to reach the opposite bank. However, a nice trick would be to do the opposite, and stay close to the nearest bank.

  “Keep an eye out along this bank,” I called to Baylor and Takecia as I reached the water’s edge. The mud was much softer here and I sank to my ankles. “He might’ve even crawled out of the water and hid amongst the trees down here.”

  Baylor nodded and started to pick his way southward, while I began to search to the north.

  “I’ll watch the water,” Takecia said, stopping when she reached the water’s edge. “If he pops his head up, I’ll be waiting for him.”

  I nodded and pushed my way through the bare branches that littered the moist earth in this area. I was thankful for the recent cold snaps, because it robbed him of places to hide. Had this chase occurred two months ago when the trees and underbrush were still green, he could’ve simply bedded down like a deer and watched us pass right on by. He might not have fooled Melvin, because Melvin seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to tracking humans through the swamps, but he might have fooled the rest of us.

  I found myself ducking under low-lying branches often. Each time I straightened, I took a good look around. I didn’t know if J-Rock was armed or if he had survived, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I was also trying to proceed as quietly as possible, but that idea was shattered when my cell phone rang loudly.

  I quickly removed it from my pocket and glanced at the number. I didn’t recognize it, but I had a strange feeling it might be related to what we were doing now, so I answered it.

  “Detective Wolf?” asked a raspy and excited voice. “This is Lenny. Is it true what I heard?”

  “If you mean did J-Rock swan-dive over a cliff, then the answer is yes,” I said to Agent Bourke, while I was squatting near a large Cypress tree that was leaning precariously over the water. “We’re looking for him right now.”

  “He can’t swim.”

  “What?” I asked incredulously. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep! He told me his girlfriend keeps asking him to go the apartment pool but he won’t do it because it’s six feet deep and he can’t touch the bottom without his nose filling up with water.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to me. “How’d you find out about this so fast?”

  “His girlfriend called and said y’all showed up to arrest Jerome and he bolted,” he explained. “When I asked her why he bolted, she said it had something to do with a dead woman.”

  “What?” I could almost feel my ears perk up. “Say that again.”

  “She said he bolted because he thought y’all were there to arrest him over a dead woman.” He paused before continuing. “That’s all she said. She didn’t give any more details. She said she had to go because y’all were going down in the bayou after him and she wanted to keep filming in case y’all murder him. She said he’s unarmed.”

  I rocked back onto my haunches, considering all of the possibilities. I was certain J-Rock had given or sold Ty the drugs—thanks to his fingerprint on the baggie—but I had no clue if he was present on the night Mrs. Richardson died. How did he factor into the equation? Did Carol catch him delivering the drugs? What if she fussed him and told him to leave? What if a fight ensued and J-Rock had gotten rough with her? It could’ve been as innocent as him brushing past her to get out of the shed, or he could’ve shoved her down in anger.

  “Hey, Detective Wolf, are you still there?” asked Lenny on the other end of the phone.

  “Call me Clint,” I said absently, still musing over the possibilities. “Look, I need to go find that girlfriend. She might know something about my homicide case.”

  I ended the call before Lenny could say anything else. I straightened and carefully studied my surroundings. I certainly wasn’t going to take the girlfriend’s word that J-Rock was unarmed. I wo
uld take every precaution—just in case.

  I slowly made my way back to the point where I’d descended into this slop and met up with Baylor and Takecia.

  “I went as far south as I could go,” said Baylor, “but I didn’t see any tracks or any signs of life. I kept an eye on the water as I walked, but the only things moving out there were a couple of ducks.”

  “I also did not see anything,” said Takecia. “I believe he is gone.”

  I nodded, looking out over the water first and then up above us. I caught some movement along the edge of the upper bank and had to stare at it for a few moments before discerning that it was a cell phone attached to a thin pole and it was hovering over us like a drone.

  “Smile big.” I pointed up. “We’re on candid camera.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “You must be Rhonda Sylvester,” I said when I scrambled the last few feet up the embankment and stood facing the young woman who had been filming us with the cell phone. She aimed the phone at me, as though she thought it would keep me at bay. I smiled. “It’s okay—you can keep filming if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

  She hesitated and licked her lips, studying me with large green eyes. She wore tight jeans, a sweater, and flip flops.

  “I just spoke with Agent Bourke,” I continued, “and he said you called him with some information.”

  She immediately shut off the phone and wiped a hand across her brown face. “I...um…I only called the P.O. because I was worried about Jerome. I wasn’t trying to get him in trouble.”

  “Why do you think he jumped?” I asked, hooking my thumbs in my waistband. “Sure, we had a detainer for him, but he didn’t even know about it. He ran as soon as he saw our vehicles. He didn’t even wait to find out if we were here for him.”

  “Where is he? What’d you do to him?” Rhonda shuffled her feet and lifted the phone again. “Why isn’t he up here?”

  “Were you filming the entire time?” I asked. “Since we first drove up?”

  She hesitated, then nodded her head.

  “Then you saw what happened. Jerome dove right off the embankment.” I indicated the bayou. “He’s somewhere down there.”

  “Nah, he wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head. “He can’t even swim.”

  I took a breath and blew it out forcefully. “Look, I don’t know why he jumped, but he did. He said he wasn’t going back to prison and then he dove into the water. What was he running from? Was it about the dead lady?”

  Rhonda’s face lost a shade of color. “No! He would never hurt a lady.”

  “I know that.” I waved a hand like it was already understood. “But he was worried we might get the wrong idea. Why is that?”

  “Is he okay?” She craned her neck to see down into the bayou. “Why aren’t you trying to save him?”

  “We’ve got a boat in the water.” I had heard the department’s Boston Whaler approaching the area while I had been scrambling up the bank. “And we’ve got officers down there looking for him.”

  “Oh, the same cops who pushed him?” She sneered. “I know how it works.”

  I could tell she was trying to say anything to keep me distracted and not talking about Mrs. Richardson.

  “You told Agent Bourke that Jerome bolted because he thought we were here to arrest him over a dead woman,” I said pointedly. “Why did you tell him that?”

  “I…I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Jerome would never hurt a woman. A man once said something ugly to me and he beat the shit—Oops! I’m sorry! He, um, he beat up the man really bad. He doesn’t like men who hurt women.”

  I had heard different about J-Rock and how he would threaten to slap women around if they owed him drug money, but there was no need to shatter the image this girl had of her boyfriend. After all, there was a good chance he was never coming back.

  “Look, you know why you told that to Agent Bourke,” I said soothingly. “I’m not here to try and pin something on Jerome. I’m just here to figure out what happened to Mrs. Carol Richardson on Saturday night.”

  Her mouth drew up in a circle. “Wait…did you say Saturday night?”

  I nodded.

  She let out a sigh and visibly relaxed. “Well, it couldn’t have been Jerome. He was with me on Saturday night.”

  “Well, that certainly helps his position,” I continued in my soothing voice. “What did he tell you about Ty Richardson?”

  She shifted her feet. “Will anything I say be used against him?”

  “Look, I’m here trying to find out what happened to Mrs. Richardson. I don’t care about anything else Jerome was involved in. You could tell me he sold a kilo of heroin to someone and I wouldn’t arrest him for it.”

  I could see her relax even more. What she didn’t know was that I couldn’t arrest him for selling drugs unless I had physical evidence. If she told me he sold heroin, it would be enough justification to launch an investigation, but I couldn’t swear out a warrant. To do that, I would need to have possession of the substance he sold so it could be tested and confirmed to be actual heroin.

  “So, what did he tell you about the lady who died?”

  “Um…” She hesitated and glanced toward the bayou.

  The sun had already disappeared behind the nearby trees and it was getting harder to see through the barren trees to the water beyond. However, I could see the lights from the Boston Whaler, and the sound of voices carried on the water. If the wind was blowing just right, I could even make out what was being said between our crew down there. By the sounds of things, they thought this was a recovery mission and not a rescue.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Nothing you say can hurt Jerome at this point.”

  Not fully understanding the meaning of what I’d said, she nodded in resignation.

  “Okay, he told me he met this guy named Ty at the boat launch a few weeks ago,” she began. “He said Ty was always sitting on this bench. He said Ty would just sit there and mumble to himself. He said people would walk right by Ty and pay him no attention, so it got him thinking and he started talking to Ty. He said he befriended Ty and, well, that’s about it. They, um, talked about a lot of stuff and all…”

  She stopped and let her voice trail off.

  “Look, I know Jerome’s been selling meth,” I said. “It’s okay.”

  She took a breath and blew it out forcefully. Nodding, she said, “I’ve been begging him to stop. When he first got out of jail, he was doing really well. He got a job at the shipyard down the road and he started paying the rent. I work as a waitress and tips have been lagging lately, so the extra money helped out a lot. But then he ran into that piece of shit”—her voice turned bitter—“Neal Barlow!”

  “Did Neal put him up to selling meth?”

  She looked down at the ground and nodded. “Sometimes, I think Jerome loves Neal more than he loves me. I tell him that, you know? I tell him he should move in with Neal. See if Neal can do the same things for him that I can do. I mean, he’s still a good boyfriend, but every time Neal calls, Jerome goes running.”

  “Did he ever bring the meth into your house?” I asked, indicating her apartment.

  “Oh, God, no!” She shook her head rapidly from side to side. “I would kill him if he did that. I’m not about to lose my little girl over his foolishness. He only brought that leather bag to the apartment once, but it never went inside.”

  “Leather bag?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Neal gives Jerome this leather bag with the meth inside, Jerome sells the meth, and then gives the leather bag back to Neal filled with money.”

  I shrugged. I guess it had to exchange hands somehow. “Let’s get back to Ty,” I said. “Did Jerome sell to Ty?”

  She shook her head. “Ty never has money on him, so Jerome set him up with a kit and he gives him a hit every now and then.”

  “What do you mean when you say kit?” I asked.

  “Oh, a pipe and a hand torch,” she explained. “Jerome gave him a kit and showed
him how to use it. He would charge a couple of clients double and tell them the price had gone up because of the economy. Then he’d give the extra to Ty.”

  “Wait a minute…he would just give Ty free drugs?” I asked, a bit of skepticism in my tone.

  “Well, it was more than that,” she acknowledged. “Jerome gave Ty a taste of it and he wanted more. Jerome would give him a little here and there, and then he decided to make a deal with Ty.”

  “A deal?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he said he told Ty he’d give him more candy smoke—that’s what he told Ty it was—if Ty would sit on his bench and hold a leather case. He told Ty that cars would drive up and all he had to do was hand them a little bag and he could get more candy smoke.”

  “He used Ty to facilitate his drug sales?”

  “He figured no one would suspect Ty,” she explained. “And even if the police showed up and arrested Ty, they wouldn’t believe anything he told them.”

  “That’s just wrong.” I wanted to say a lot more regarding how I felt about J-Rock, but I didn’t want to anger her into not talking anymore.

  “Jerome says he can’t go down for distribution again,” she explained. “He got lucky last time when they let him out because of something the governor did, but he knows he won’t get lucky if it happens one more time. And that’s why I got so mad at him when he started doing this stupid shit again.” In the light from a nearby lamppost, I saw a tear glisten as it fell down her dark face. “You won’t lock him up for this, right?”

  “How many times did he get Ty to sell his drugs?”

  “Only a few times, I think. He told me this neighbor came outside one day and was looking at him pretty hard and it spooked him. The man started yelling at him and stuff, so he left.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “When was the last time Jerome gave Ty some candy smoke?”

  She brushed the tear away. “Um, Saturday was the last time they saw each other at the boat launch. That’s why Jerome freaked out when he heard that Ty’s mom was murdered. He thinks if Ty killed his mom after taking the drugs he gave Ty, then the police will try to accuse him of being involved. I guess he was right, because here you are.”