But Not Foreseen

by BJ Bourg

  I grinned while waiting for the woman to approach us, but I was still stuck on the fact that her husband was retired and she wasn’t a year older than thirty-five. Maybe she married an older man?

  When she reached us, she peeled off her gloves and stuck out a hand to Amy first, and then to me.

  “Hello, I’m Dolly Pardon, not to be confused with Dolly Parton.” She flashed a smile that caused her whole face to light up. “My dad is a bit of a jokester. He convinced my mom to try six times for a girl just so he could name me Dolly. I’m not complaining. Had they given up early, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have five brothers to terrorize every boyfriend I’ve ever owned.”

  Amy and I laughed and followed her into the house.

  “Do you have any leads?” she asked Amy over her shoulder as she led us through a foyer, down a hallway, and into a small sitting room.

  “I don’t want to alarm you,” Amy began slowly, “but we think there might be a link to the murders that happened out at Waxtuygi.”

  Dolly spun around and her eyes widened. “Are you serious? Is my family in danger?”

  “No, we think the killers are long gone,” Amy quickly explained. “They’ve definitely left this area. We’re thinking they broke in because they needed food and they might have used your phone.”

  Dolly pulled at the front of the tights she wore. “When we were looking for a place to raise our children, the first thing we did was check the crime rate. This area was reported as safe, but I’m starting to wonder if we’ve been duped.”

  I had noticed the phone resting on a corner table, and I headed for it, letting Amy try to convince Dolly that our town was safe despite the recent murders.

  I picked up the handset and studied it for a second. There was a redial button on the bottom row. I turned toward Dolly.

  “If I press the redial button, will it dial the number automatically?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “When you press redial, it displays the number before dialing it.”

  I glanced back down and said a silent prayer before pressing the button. The backlight lit up orange and a number appeared. It was 555-7977. I waved for Dolly to join me and look at the number.

  “Do you recognize it?” I asked.

  She cocked her head to the side and scowled. “No, I don’t.”

  My heart began to pound in my chest. Had we just located our first real clue?

  “What about your husband?” I asked. “Is it possible he called this number?”

  “Oh, no, he never uses that phone.”

  “What about your kids?” I pressed.

  “If it’s not an iPhone, they’re not interested in using it.” She grunted. “My youngest didn’t know what it was when I first brought it home. She wanted to know why it had a collar. And my oldest made fun of it. But they sure changed their tune when we got hit by our first hurricane. The satellites went out and they lost all contact with their friends back east. This was the only thing that kept them connected to the outside world. Any who, I can assure you they didn’t call this number. Like I said, all of their friends are back east and it would be a long distance call. This is a local number.”

  She was right about it being a local number, but it was anyone’s guess as to whom it might be registered. My only hope was that it was in our system.

  “Thank you, Dolly Pardon,” I said, accentuating the last part of her name. “I really appreciate your time.”

  “I hope it helps you catch those criminals.” She wrapped herself in a hug. “It worries me to think a murderer might’ve come into my house. As it is, I see my house in a different light since the burglary. This used to be a place where I felt safe and secure from the outside, but now I feel vulnerable. There’s something dirty and evil about having a stranger rummage through your house. We had cameras installed in case it happens again, but I don’t know if that’s enough now. A murderer?” She shuddered.

  I frowned and thanked her again as we headed out the door. Amy was quiet as she got into my Tahoe. I asked what was wrong.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t think about the phone.” Her lower lip jutted outward just a little. “I even made a note in my report that it had been moved. Why didn’t I think to check it?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” I said. “We all miss things from time to time. Besides, there was no way you would’ve foreseen this number being associated with a murderer and if you would’ve pursued it, you might’ve walked right into a trap. You probably saved your own life by missing it.”

  “That’s quite a spin.” She laughed. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but it ain’t—”

  Her phone suddenly dinged, cutting her off. She quickly snatched it up to check it.

  “I’ve never seen you so excited about a text message,” I joked. Her face turned red for about the tenth time that day, but she said nothing as her fingers danced across the screen.

  I said nothing either as I drove to the police department. My top priority was to find the registered owner of 555-7977.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Well, of course this would be a dead end,” I grumbled to myself, tossing the notepad on my desk. I had spent the last hour or so running the phone number through every database I could access, but I’d come up dry at every turn.

  It was a little after two in the afternoon and I decided to take a break from my search to call Sheriff Abel Adams in Buckheed County. I had called him right when we returned to the police department to update him on the case and to give him the number, just in case he had a file on it.

  “Were you able to get anything on the number?” I asked when he answered. He sounded tired.

  “Not a thing. You?”

  “Nope.” I leaned back in my chair and threw my boots up on the desk. “Not only does the phone number not appear to be registered, but it hasn’t made a complaint with the police department or sheriff’s office, it hasn’t been used to obtain gas, water, or electricity, and it hasn’t been used to create a social media account. Hell, no one’s even ordered a pizza from that phone number.”

  “I don’t know, Clint,” Abel said wearily. “I’m starting to get the sense that we’ll never catch these people. It’s too easy for someone to commit a random act of violence and then simply go underground, never to be heard from again.”

  “What if they’re dead?” I offered. “You live by the gun, you die by the gun. What if they ran into someone with more firepower or who got the drop on them?”

  “That’s a thought.” I could hear Abel shuffling around in the background before returning to the phone. “I’ll get one of my guys on it.”

  “Yeah, I’ll check some neighboring parishes to see if there’ve been any shootings—” I suddenly clamped my mouth shut and cocked my head to the side, thinking about something I’d just said.

  “Clint, are you there?” Abel asked after a long moment of silence.

  “Yeah.” I dropped my boots to the ground and snatched up my notepad. “I have to go. I’ve got an idea. I’ll let you know if it works.”

  “Good luck,” he said, but I barely heard him because I’d already ended the call.

  “Amy!” I hollered, getting up from my desk and hurrying out the door. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “Did you find something?” She looked up from her desk when I entered her office. “Because I’ve got shit. This number must be for a burner phone or someone dialed the wrong number.”

  “Well, we’re about to find out,” I said eagerly, sitting in the chair across from her. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  I nodded and laid it out for her, watching as her expression grew more and more excited.

  “Damn, Clint, this might actually work!” She began scribbling some notes. “I can do this.”

  “We need to set up teams in the north, central, and south areas of the parish,” I said, “because we don’t know where these people are located. If they get suspicious, they’ll probably make
a run for it and we’ll lose them forever, so you need to play this just right. Don’t over-sell it.”

  “Hey, I’m good at this kind of thing.” She was extremely confident and that worried me. I wanted her to feel apprehensive, because being nervous usually helped motivate one to do a better job. She saw the look on my face and smiled. “I promise—it’ll be fine. I’ll trap these bastards.”

  While she began rehearsing her lines, I called Susan and told her my plan.

  “It’s crazy,” she said, “but it might just work.”

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “We’re heading back to town. I’ve got Baylor and Takecia with me. We drove down to the coast and checked all of the abandoned places along Old Black Bird Highway.”

  “Can you assemble three teams and stage them north, central, and south?” I asked. “I want them ready when Amy makes the call.”

  “Sure thing,” she said. “Let me start making calls. I’ll meet you at the office in a few.”

  It had been a while since I’d spoken with Sheriff Buck Turner, so I called him and brought him up to date on the events that had been unfolding. We talked for about five minutes. When we’d ended the call, I made my way outside and under the police department building, where my Tahoe was parked.

  Earlier in the day, Susan had directed several SWAT officers to cordon off the entire block surrounding the police department, pushing the media farther down Washington Avenue. The only exception was Laura Cavanaugh. She had been allowed to remain inside the police department. It angered the other reporters, but none of us really cared. While I did trust her, we didn’t allow her unfettered access to the details of the case. I wanted her close in case we needed her, and I was happy to let her be the first to report on any official developments. Now, though, wasn’t the time for an update, and I turned from the cargo area of my Tahoe when she approached me from behind.

  “I sense there’s been movement in the case.” Laura wore a dark blue, sleeveless dress that accentuated her ivory-colored arms. The wind caressed her long blonde hair gently, pushing some of it into her face, but she didn’t seem to notice. She indicated the floorboard of the rear compartment of my Tahoe. “It looks like you’re preparing for war.”

  I turned from her and surveyed the twenty thirty-round AR-10 magazines resting on my tactical backpack. They were each filled to capacity with Federal Law Enforcement Tactical bullets. These 165-grain bullets offered deeper penetration than the Gold Medal Match rounds I usually carried, and the bonded bullets could dig deeper into an automobile than the boat-tail hollow-points could. If we encountered these killers, they would most likely be inside a vehicle or home.

  “Well, Laura,” I said after a while, “it seems that war’s been brought down upon us. It’s not what we asked for, but it’s here and we’re gonna deal with it.”

  She nodded and asked if she could tag along. I smiled and shook my head.

  “I had to try,” she said sheepishly and then headed for the stairs.

  When she was gone, I began shoving some of the magazines into the pockets on my tactical vest. I was still working when Susan drove up. Baylor was the first one out of the vehicle and I waved him over. Digging three twenties from my wallet, I handed the money over and asked if he could pick up some pizza from the Pizza Bayou, which was a new pizza place that had opened up where the old police department used to be.

  “Get two super supreme pizzas, an order of breadsticks, four marinara packs, and a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper,” I said, rattling off the order like it was my usual. “Once you have the food, meet us back here.”

  Baylor scratched his short-cropped hair and smiled. “Be right back, Chief.”

  Susan and Takecia headed inside and I looked up to see Amy standing on the bottom step of the police department, eyeing Baylor as he walked to his patrol cruiser. When he was gone, she turned and saw me staring. With a sheepish grin on her face, she walked over.

  “What’s up, Clint?”

  “I’m good,” I said, turning to dig some extra pistol magazines from my backpack. I shoved three in my left back pocket. “How’re you?”

  “What do you think about Baylor?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  Baylor Rice was originally from a small town in North Carolina called Sylva. He had found his way to Mechant Loup at the young age of twenty-four after doing a four-year stint in the military. When I had first met him five years ago, I’d asked how it was that someone from a small town in the mountains could end up in a small town in the swamps. He said one of his military buddies had told him about our little town. I found out later that his friend had died in a helicopter crash during a training exercise in California.

  Baylor had decided to come to Mechant Loup and see what all the fuss was about. Susan had hired him during my short stint away from the department, and he had proven to be worth his salt as a police officer. He had even risked his life for my daughter recently, and that put him very high on my list of favorite people.

  “Are you asking on a professional or personal level?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Her face burned red and she slugged my shoulder for the second time that day. “Damn it, Clint! Don’t make me say it.”

  I laughed, but stopped dry when I noticed the troubled expression on her face. “What is it?”

  “My dad always warned me against dating cops.” She shifted her feet. “He told me the divorce rate was high and that most of them cheated. I look at you and Melvin and I see that’s not true of all cops, but how do I know if Baylor’s like you and Melvin?”

  “Look, Amy, cops get a bad rap,” I explained, turning from the task at hand to give her my undivided attention. “The vast majority of the male officers I’ve worked with over the years were true to their wives and girlfriends. Like all things, a few bad apples make the rest of us look bad.”

  “Okay, but how do I know if Baylor would make a good boyfriend?” There were genuine worry lines in Amy’s face. “How do I know he’s not one of those bad apples? I’m not getting any younger, you know, and I don’t have time to waste on another dead end relationship. Every time we go into one of these situations where I might die, the only thing I keep thinking is that my bloodline will die with me. I want to get married and have children. I want to leave something behind when I’m gone. I don’t want to die a single woman, having never known what it feels like to walk down the aisle in a beautiful dress. I want those things, but I look around this town and there’s no one I give a shit about. Well, except for Baylor. I’ve always liked him, but I never looked at him in that way because of what my dad told me. How do I know he’s not like one of those guys my dad warned me about?”

  “I never judge a man by what he says in front of polite company,” I explained thoughtfully, choosing my words carefully. I realized this was a serious issue for her. “I judge a man by what he says when he’s alone with other men. I don’t know if you realize this or not, but men say things amongst each other that they’d never say in front of women or children. Call it locker room talk or whatever, but it happens.”

  “It’s the same with women.” Amy waved a dismissive hand. “They talk differently when they’re around their own kind. Everyone does it.”

  “That’s right. And this is what I’ll say about Baylor…” I paused, searching for a way to insert some levity into the discussion. When I’d figured it out, I continued. “Look, we both know I’m old enough to have a daughter your age—”

  This unexpected comment caused Amy to burst with laughter. She laughed so hard that she didn’t hear what I said about Baylor.

  “Wait,” she said after she’d manage to straighten and stop laughing so much. “What’d you say?”

  “I said, if I had a daughter your age, I’d be proud to call Baylor my son-in-law.”

  Amy took a deep breath and exhaled deeply. Her shoulders relaxed. Her eyes misted over. I shifted my feet uncomfortably.

  “Thanks, Clint,” she said with passion. “Th
at means the world coming from you.”

  “No problem,” I said quickly, waving her off and turning back to my gear. “Now, can we get ready to take on these assholes?”

  “I was born ready,” she said smugly. “When this is all over, I’ll get an Emmy for this bitch.”

  “If this is successful, I’ll nominate you myself.” I closed the rear gate of my Tahoe and turned to face her. “And Baylor will get an Oscar for a supporting role, because he’s going with you as backup.”

  Amy tried to conceal her excitement, but it was written all over her face.

  CHAPTER 38

  It was almost four o’clock and I was standing near an undercover car in the parking lot of the sheriff’s Criminal Operations Center. The rear windows of the car were tinted dark, which would conceal Baylor’s presence on the rear floorboard. Amy was in the driver’s seat with a cell phone in her hands. The boxes of pizza were in an insulated pouch on the passenger’s seat beside her. Additionally, Baylor had obtained a Pizza Bayou car topper and it was now fastened atop the undercover car.

  I got on the radio and called out to Susan and Mallory, who each had a team ready and waiting. Susan’s team was in the south area, Mallory’s was in the north, and I had a team with me in the parking lot.

  “Okay, we’re about to make the call,” I said when they responded to my initial traffic. They each acknowledged that they were ready and standing by. “Okay, Amy, it’s all you.”

  Nodding confidently, Amy dialed the number we’d gotten from Dolly Pardon. She switched it to speaker phone as it began to ring. I said a silent prayer that it wasn’t a wrong number or the number for a Pardon family friend. There was a brief moment where everything hung in the balance. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest and feel the sweat build up on my forehead. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until a deep voice answered and I exhaled forcefully.

  “Hello, this is Peggy from Pizza Bayou,” Amy began cheerfully. “I’ve got your order, but I can’t seem to find the house—”