But Not Fortuitous

by BJ Bourg

  “It’s been down here for years,” I said, pointing to a hand protruding from the mud. It was devoid of flesh and tissue. “It’s been reduced to a skeleton.”

  “Shit!” Amy leaned back on her haunches. “What in the hell are we supposed to do with that?”

  It wasn’t often that I had encountered skeletal remains. I knew we’d need an expert to examine the bones to determine the approximate date of death and to gather identifiable information about the victim. Due to what I could see of the partially unearthed trousers and shirt—they appeared to be the same types of work uniforms my grandpa would wear to work—on the body, my best guess was that it was a male, but I’d need a forensic anthropologist to confirm that for us.

  “Okay,” I began, stepping back from the hole, “we need to widen the hole so we can get down there and work. If we try to lift the body to the ground level, it’ll likely fall apart.”

  “Even if we widen the hole it’ll fall apart when we lift it, so how do we get it out in one piece?”

  “We’ll have to slide a spinal board under it, tie some ropes to the ends of the spinal board, and lift the spinal board out of the hole.” I glanced at the bag that contained Zeke’s body. “It’s gonna take a while—probably all night—and I want to get Zeke out of here as soon as possible. Out of respect for the kid and his family, I don’t want him lying in that mud any longer than he has to.”

  Amy frowned and nodded. “I’ll call the coroner’s office.”

  “Ask them if we can borrow a spinal board while you’re at it,” I said, and then made my own phone call to Susan. After telling her what we’d discovered, she asked what she could do to help.

  “We’ll be here all night, so we’ll need a large tent, some drop lights, and a generator to run the lights.” I paused and scanned our surroundings. “We might also need someone to stand guard while we work. We still don’t know who killed Zeke and we don’t know the circumstances of this old body. The killer or killers might return to the area, and I don’t want them sneaking up on us while we work.”

  “Okay, I’ll get Melvin to bring the equipment, and I’ll ask Takecia to meet you out there for security.”

  “Oh, by the way,” I said as an afterthought, “how’d Red McKenzie take the news?”

  “Not good at all.” She sighed heavily. “Regan and I had to take him to the ground to keep him from hurting himself. We finally got him calmed down. I impressed upon him the importance of being there for Paulie, and that seemed to help.”

  Amy was still on the phone with the coroner’s office when I ended the call with Susan, so I began to carefully widen the grave by digging into the eastern side of the hole. I didn’t want to drop any of the fresh dirt on top of the body, so I made sure to take one small scoop of mud at a time and toss it away from the work site. Once Amy had ended her conversation with the coroner’s office, she grabbed a shovel and started digging on the opposite end.

  Since it was later in the day it was a little cooler, but it was still hot and we were once again dripping sweat within minutes. While the grave had been free of roots, the surrounding ground was not and we had to stop often to chop through them with an axe.

  Neither of us spoke until the coroner’s investigator arrived on the back of a four-wheeler that was being driven by Takecia Gayle. She smiled when she saw us, but frowned when her eyes found the black bag on the ground that contained the body of Zeke McKenzie.

  Takecia was one of Susan’s patrol officers who had previously worked the day shift, but had recently been transferred to the night shift thanks to Amy being promoted to detective. Regan would be filling the spot on the day shift previously occupied by Takecia and would be working opposite Melvin, who also worked the night shift. Baylor worked the day shift and would now work opposite Takecia.

  Takecia threw her leg off of the four-wheeler and dropped to the ground. Her dark arms glistened with sweat as she reached up and removed her sunglasses. “It’s a damn shame what happened to that poor boy,” she said in her thick Jamaican accent. “I’ve answered many calls in town about him being mischievous—just being a boy, you know?—and he was always a nice kid. He called me his girlfriend and said he would marry me when he got old enough.”

  “Years ago—back before you came to work here—Zeke and Paulie were kidnapped by some bad actors and were left in the attic of an old building,” I told Takecia. “Red nearly went crazy and wanted to kill the people responsible. He told me I’d better find the kidnappers before he did, and he meant it. I think it’ll be especially true in this case, considering his son was killed. He’ll lose his mind. We really need to find out who did this before Red does, because it won’t be pretty if he gets to them before we do.”

  With a renewed sense of urgency, Amy and I continued digging a workable area beside the skeletal remains. Takecia transported the coroner’s investigator and Zeke’s body back to the end of North Project Road, and returned in fifteen minutes. Melvin was right behind her and he was also on one of the department’s four-wheelers. A large tent was secured to the back rack.

  Amy and I took a break from digging to help Melvin set up the tent and the generator for the drop lights. While we did that, Takecia—her AR-15 slung across her chest—patrolled the perimeter of our work area. It felt good having her watch our backs. We were able to work without distraction and, within four hours, had dug out a four-by-six-foot area beside the skeletal remains that formed a platform from which we could work to dislodge the body.

  I gave Amy a leg up so she could get out of the hole, and she returned the favor by giving me her hand. Every muscle in my body ached. Once I was standing on the ground level, I tossed my shovel aside and twisted to the left and right to work the kinks out of my back. It was completely dark now and mosquitoes were swarming around the drop lights. They had been drilling into us for hours and I was numb to their presence.

  “I think Melvin’s back,” Takecia called from the darkness to our left. He had left an hour ago to get some food for dinner, and we could hear a four-wheeler making its way through the woods. Soon, we caught sight of the ATV’s light jostling along the bumpy ride. I walked over to a downed tree nearby and sat wearily on the trunk.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat an entire alligator, feet and all,” I grumbled.

  Amy nodded and plopped down beside me. “You and me—”

  “Stop where you are!” Takecia hollered in an authoritative voice. “Stop the four-wheeler and move your hand away from the gun—do it now!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Instantly upon hearing Takecia’s challenge, Amy and I spun off the downed tree—she went to the left and I went to the right—and drew our weapons. Taking cover behind a large cypress tree, I trained my pistol on the light of the four-wheeler and waited for Takecia’s lead. I couldn’t see Amy, but I knew she’d also sought cover and was covering the ATV.

  The four-wheeler had pulled to a stop in response to Takecia’s warning, but the engine was still running.

  “Lift your hands in the air!” Takecia commanded. “Do it now!”

  The sound of her voice indicated to me that she was to my left, and to the right of the driver. The light from the four-wheeler was blinding me, so I couldn’t get a bead on the driver. He must’ve lifted his hands, though, because she issued another command.

  “With your left hand, turn off the ATV!”

  Without hesitation, the driver killed the engine and the light went dead. In that same moment, Takecia turned on her flashlight and flooded the driver.

  I grunted when I saw who it was. “Red, what in the hell are you doing out here?”

  He glanced in the direction of my voice and frowned. His eyes were moist and red. It was clear he’d been drinking.

  “I…I wanted—” He clamped his mouth shut and I could tell he was trying to contain his emotions.

  “I’m moving in,” I said to Takecia. I holstered my pistol and stepped out from behind the tree. Once I was within a few feet of Red, I could s
ee that he had a lever-action rifle resting across his legs. “Red, I need to know what you’re doing here.”

  He smacked his lips a few times. Finally, he took a quivering breath and exhaled. “I want to be where he died.”

  My shoulders drooped. My heart was already broken for him, but I felt even worse.

  “He took his last breath right here,” Red continued, “and I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

  “Why the rifle?” I asked.

  He glanced down at the western-style rifle in his lap. “His killers are still out here somewhere. I brought it just in case I run into them. If I find them before you do, I’m going to kill them, and I don’t care who knows it. You won’t even have to come looking for me. I’ll turn myself in.”

  Before I could say anything in response, the roaring of at least two other four-wheeler engines sounded through the trees. I stepped closer to Red. “Look, I need you to go home. I understand you want to be where Zeke took his last breath and I respect that, but this is still a crime scene.”

  Red scowled as he glanced from me to the tent with lights hanging from the poles. “Does it usually take this long to work a crime scene?”

  I glanced toward the widened grave. “There’s been a development in the case. We’ve made a discovery that might help answer some questions.”

  “What kind of discovery?”

  The approaching four-wheelers pulled up to the work site and I saw that Melvin was on one and Susan on the other.

  “Please, Clint,” Red said, “I deserve to know what’s going on. It was my son who died.”

  “Okay,” I said, “that’s fair enough. When we pulled Zeke out of that hole, we found another body buried down there.”

  “Another body?” His eyes widened. “But…but who was it?”

  “We don’t know yet.” He started to ask another question, but I raised a hand to stop him. “I can’t divulge any more than that. Please, just go back home and take care of Paulie. Once we’re done here, we won’t have any say over who comes or goes on this property, unless the property owners call and complain. You understand what I’m telling you?”

  Red nodded and apologized for interrupting our work. “I’ll go home now, but I promise you this: if you don’t find them, I will, and I’m going to kill them in the worst way possible.”

  I didn’t say anything as he cranked up his engine and made a wide circle before driving off through the trees. When I turned, Susan was beside me.

  “How’re things going out here?”

  I told her what we knew so far and explained the plan going forward. She then told me about the fight and arrest she’d made earlier with Regan Steed. As we talked, we joined Melvin and the others and grabbed a hamburger and a Coke from the back rack of Melvin’s four-wheeler.

  We all sat in a rough circle around the work site and ate our dinner in the glow from the drop lights. The generator hummed softly like soothing background music. I sat there with my friends and my wife, eating home-cooked hamburgers from M & P Grill and making small talk. It might’ve been easy to forget why we were there, but that big hole wouldn’t let me.

  I finished eating first and grabbed a pair of latex gloves from my crime scene box. Melvin had strapped a four-foot ladder to the back of his four-wheeler, and I retrieved it. I set it down in the hole and descended to the workable area we’d carved out of the earth.

  The drop lights were bright, but there were shadows in the depths of the hole, so I pulled my flashlight from my back pocket and flipped it on. Shining it over the body, I began brushing the soft dirt away from the face. Before long, I’d unearthed the entire head and visually examined it. Something on the right side of the skull caught my attention. I dropped lower in the hole and leaned close.

  “What is it?” I heard Susan ask from beside me. “What’d you find?”

  “There’s a hole in the side of his skull,” I said slowly. “It looks like a bullet wound.” I leaned back and waved Susan closer. “Check it out.”

  Susan lowered herself to her knees and squinted as she studied the hole. “Yeah, it sure does look like a bullet hole.”

  I whipped out my camera and took a picture of the hole, and then continued brushing mud away from the body.

  Amy joined Susan and me and started working on unearthing the legs. As I revealed more of the suspect’s torso, I found that the shirt was plain and didn’t have any logos or any other marks that would help to identify the victim—at least as far as I could see. It was faded and torn in places, and it appeared fragile, so it was possible it could’ve been marked at one time. I began working on the area just below the waist and frowned when I felt something stiff in the soft mud.

  “What’s this?”

  Susan, who had taken over holding my flashlight, illuminated the area I was currently working on. I raked the dirt away one handful at a time, my curiosity mounting. I sucked in a mouthful of air and whistled out loud when a thick leather belt came into view.

  “Holy shit, Sue, he’s wearing a gun belt!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Susan, Amy, and I stared in shock from one to another until a shadow fell across the hole. We looked up to see Melvin standing above us. “He’s a cop?”

  “I guess so,” I said. “He’s wearing a leather gun belt. It’s old, too.” I scraped some of the mud away from the side of the body until I could see more of the belt. There were ammunition loops that extended out of sight under the body. The loops that were visible contained corroded .357 caliber bullets.

  I had to reach across the body to dig around the right side, and I did so very carefully. Within minutes, I had unearthed a holster that contained a .357 revolver. It was stainless steel and in surprisingly good condition, by the looks of it.

  “He’s armed,” I said, and then sat back on my heels. I glanced up at Melvin, who had been born and raised in Mechant Loup. “Have you ever heard of a cop going missing in these parts?”

  He shook his head. “That would’ve been big news around here.”

  “I’ll call Mallory and have her check the database of old cases at the sheriff’s office,” Susan offered. “Maybe he’s from the parish.”

  I nodded, liking the idea. Mallory Tuttle was a detective with the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office. We worked closely with Mallory and most of the officers at the sheriff’s office, but Mallory was more than a fellow officer to my wife—she was one of Susan’s closest friends.

  As Susan walked to the opposite corner of our enlarged grave, Amy and I continued working to free the skeletal remains. Somewhere off in the distance, I heard a low grumble. I paused, cocked my head to the side. “Is that—?”

  “Yep, it’s thunder,” Amy said. “It’s supposed to storm tonight.”

  “Shit!” I began digging faster with my hands, while still trying not to disturb the body. If it started raining while we were still down here with the body, the hole would start filling up with water within minutes and could destroy any potential evidence that might be on the skeletal remains.

  While the tent above would provide shelter from the raindrops, it would do nothing to stop water from spilling into the grave. Nearly all of southeastern Louisiana was in Flood Zone A, but the area in which we found ourselves was especially low.

  Amy was grunting at the foot of the body while I continued to clear the ground near the head and shoulders. We needed to dig enough earth away to slide the spinal board under the body, and we were still about twenty minutes away from accomplishing that goal.

  “Mallory doesn’t remember ever hearing about an officer going missing, but she’ll check their records and speak with some of the old timers.” Susan dropped beside us and started helping. “She said they do have a couple of outstanding missing person cases from years back, but she doesn’t think any of them worked in law enforcement.”

  I had begun to wonder if this was an ancient burial site and if we were disturbing someone’s resting place, but thought better of it. Surely, any respectable lawman would
’ve at least garnered a pine box as a coffin by the sheer virtue of his noble profession. Hell, even outlaws who were hanged in the old days received the benefit of a secure resting spot, so why not this guy? The lack of a coffin at least suggested this was not a sanctioned burial.

  No, something sinister had happened at this spot many years ago, and I needed to find out what it was—but to do that, I had to preserve this body as best as I could.

  As we worked, the thunder grew louder and lightning began flashing all around us. Soon, I could hear rain pattering against the tent’s canopy, and it became stronger with each passing second. Before long, it was coming down in sheets and tiny droplets made their way down to where we were working.

  “We need to get the body out of there,” Melvin called from above, stating the obvious. “I just checked the forecast—we’re about to get a ton of rain dumped on us.”

  Flash floods were a real problem in Mechant Loup. If we didn’t leave in a hurry, we might not be able to make it out of here on the four-wheelers. Unfortunately, the trees were too close together that we would never fit a truck back here.

  “Drop the spinal board,” I hollered, raising my voice to be heard over the wind, which had begun howling all around us and threatening to rip the canopy from the tent poles.

  Much to my dismay, I noticed that water had started flowing into the grave. At first, it was a single tiny trickle in the corner behind me, but then it became more voluminous and several more small waterfalls sprung up.

  “How’s it looking on your end?” I asked Amy.

  “Good enough,” she said. “I can get my hands under his legs.”

  “Can you lift him?”

  After a short pause, she cursed. “I think one of his lower leg bones broke loose from his knee.”