by BJ Bourg
“That’s not normal,” Melvin said.
I scanned the water, searching desperately for any sign of Regan. The dark water had become white with bubbles and I could actually see a few feet beneath the surface now, but she was nowhere to be seen. As I continued to search, I noticed something that caused my stomach to grow weak—the white bubbles had suddenly turned red.
“Melvin, are you seeing this?”
Melvin was suddenly standing beside me. “Oh, shit, that can’t be good.”
We watched in horror as a body suddenly ascended from the depths of the shadowy water, pushing a stream of blood up with it. When the body broke the surface, I was relieved to see it was the man named Saul and he was the one bleeding, but I grew instantly concerned when Regan didn’t appear with him.
I reached forward and grabbed Saul by the hair and jerked him closer to the boat. Melvin grabbed onto one of his arms and helped me pull him into the boat.
“Where’s Regan?” I asked as I searched for a wound.
Saul was writhing in pain, clutching at his left rib. Blood oozed through his fingers and began to puddle on the floor of the aluminum hull. Exercising some force, I ripped his hands away to reveal a nasty knife wound in his left rib.
“Where in the hell is Regan?” I asked again, shaking him roughly.
“Dead, I hope!” Water and saliva sprayed from his mouth as he spat the words. “The bitch stuck me!”
I instantly tore away from Saul and dove right over the side of the boat, hitting the water kicking my feet and stroking my hands. I had no clue where to begin searching, so I just headed directly into the trail of blood on the water. Based on what I had learned of the bayou in this area, it was about twenty feet deep. I didn’t know how fast I was descending, but I knew I had to be getting close.
I swam with my eyes wide open, but I couldn’t see but a few inches in front of my face. Thus, it was without warning that the floor of the bayou rose up and met me. My left arm sunk into the soft mud first and it was followed immediately by my face. I struggled to hold my breath while pawing briefly at the mud on my face.
I then began feeling around frantically, searching the soft mud for Regan’s body. My hand brushed against something that was partially buried in the mud. It felt smooth and round and I instantly knew it was the rescue tank. I was grateful to find it, but it also filled my heart with dread. If it was at the bottom of the bayou it wasn’t in Regan’s hands. That meant she was out of air and in deep trouble.
I took a quick breath from the rescue tank and continued searching the bottom of the bayou. I clawed at the mud with my left hand to pull myself forward and felt around with my right hand, which also held the rescue tank. After about thirty long seconds, my hand brushed against something soft and I realized it was Regan’s belly.
I fumbled around until I found her face in the darkness. My heart dropped to my bare feet when my fingers slipped into her wide open mouth. Dropping the tank and pulling her up against me, I shoved off of the bottom as hard as I could and raced for the top. Her body was completely limp. While she was only about five-foot, five inches and couldn’t weigh more than 125, she felt like 200 pounds of dead weight.
My legs were burning. I could hardly lift my arm anymore. My strength was waning. It began to feel like I was swimming in slow motion, and then—just like that—I started sinking. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get any lift in the water. I had reached my limits. I opened my eyes and glanced up. The water above me was brighter than earlier. I was so close.
With the last of my strength, I grabbed Regan with both hands and shoved her upward above me. For my efforts, I sank deeper into the bayou, but it was worth it. She had apparently broken the surface of the water, where Melvin had been waiting. I saw her being lifted from the blackness and I sighed in relief.
Now that I wasn’t pulling another human through the water, I was able to swim to the surface and finally suck in a mouthful of air. I treaded water for a second as I fought to catch my breath. As I bobbed along in the water, I saw Melvin’s broad back leaning over something in the boat. I couldn’t see Regan, but I knew she was stretched out on the hull floor and Melvin was doing chest compressions.
Saying a silent prayer, I swam to the boat and dragged myself onboard. Saul was still bleeding in the corner, but I ignored him. I crawled exhaustively toward Melvin and Regan, whose head rocked from side to side as Melvin rendered aid. I quickly took hold of her head and, after tilting it back, gave several rescue breaths.
Melvin continued the chest compressions. I moved my right hand to Regan’s neck and felt for a pulse with my index and middle fingers. I thought I felt a faint pulse. I was about to announce it to Melvin when she suddenly began choking. Water sprayed from her mouth. I quickly reached forward and helped Melvin turn her onto her side.
“I’ve got her,” I said to Melvin. “Just get us out of here!”
CHAPTER 43
It was almost dark when we arrived at the boat launch, and Saul didn’t look so good. At first, I wasn’t sure why Regan had stabbed him under the water, but I knew it had to have been for a good reason, so I had left him to bleed until I was certain she was okay.
Once Regan was alert and breathing normally, I had grabbed my shirt from the bench seat and applied pressure to the knife wound in Saul’s side. He had lost a lot of blood by that point. Although I had been able to slow the bleeding significantly, he was barely conscious when we reached the launch.
Melvin had radioed for two ambulances to meet us and they were already backed up to the slip when we arrived. Two medics handed a spinal board to Melvin. Saul groaned weakly when we lifted him onto the board and strapped him in place.
“Ready?” Melvin asked, squatting and grabbing one end of the board.
I nodded and grabbed the other end. We lifted it and handed him off to the two medics. I then turned to Regan, who was seated on the center bench with a blanket draped over her shoulder.
“How’re you feeling?”
A tired smile spread across her face. “I’m fine.”
“We’re gonna get you to the hospital for observation, okay?”
She nodded and I helped her to her feet.
“Regan!” called a male voice from the parking lot. “Regan!”
I walked her toward the side of the boat just as a man raced across the lot and approached us. His face was pale—almost as pale as Saul’s had been—and his hair was wild.
“Abel,” Regan said when she saw him. “What’re you doing here?”
He reached for her and hooked his hands under her arms. He steadied her as she stepped onto the pier. They were met by another pair of medics.
“They called me an hour ago,” Abel explained. “I got here as fast as I could. Thankfully, I was already on the way home when I got the call.”
“Clint, this is my husband, Abel,” Regan said. “Abel—Clint.”
I shook the man’s hand and stood back to let the medics get in and walk Regan to the ambulance.
Susan and Amy were standing with Mayor Cain and Laura near a tree. Amy approached and shot a thumb toward the ambulance that held Saul.
“Is this our suspect?” She wore jeans and a Polo shirt with our logo embroidered on the left breast pocket. “Is he under arrest?”
“I don’t know if he killed Chrissy or Frank, but he tried to kill Regan, so he’s definitely under arrest.”
“I’ll ride with them to the hospital.”
I thanked her and was about to join Susan when someone called my name. The captain of the Diable D’eau Noire had followed us to the launch. He and his two men were standing on the wooden pier looking confused. He was waving me over.
“What the hell’s going on?” asked the captain. “What’d Saul do?”
“What’s his last name?” I asked.
“Bankston.”
“How long has he worked with y’all?”
“I guess it’s been about three months. He showed up at Spearmonger’s looking to
do some diving in Lake Berg and Le Diable Lake. From what I heard, Natalie was recommending one of the other outfits but Gabe was in the shop and he told Saul we were the best.” He glanced at one of the other men and shrugged. “He wasn’t lying.”
“Where’s Saul staying?” I asked.
“He stayed at the bunkhouse with us on most nights, but not always. He stayed to himself a lot and didn’t talk much.”
“Where’d he stay when he wasn’t at the bunkhouse?”
The captain glanced at the other men. “Do either of you know?”
They both shook their heads.
“I don’t know either.” The captain shrugged again. “As long as my men show up to work on time and don’t dive while high, I don’t really care about anything else.”
“Did he have a girlfriend?”
“Not that I knew of.”
“Where’s he originally from?”
“Florida or Alabama—one of those places. And I don’t know if he actually said that’s where he was from or if he just mentioned diving in those places.” He took a breath and shook his head. “Like I said, he didn’t talk much. He was a real secretive guy.”
I thanked them and started to walk away when the captain stopped me.
“Why’d he run from y’all?”
I considered the question. I actually didn’t know why he had jumped into the lake and fled. It could be a simple matter of him having an outstanding warrant for speeding or some other crime, or he could be our killer. His name had never come up during the course of our investigation, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t him.
“I don’t know,” I finally said, “but we’re going to find out.”
I joined Susan, Pauline, and Laura.
“Well?” Pauline asked. “Is it finally over? Do we have our guy?”
“I’m heading to the hospital to meet Amy,” I said. “Hopefully, he’s alert and we’ll be able to interview him.”
“What if he doesn’t talk?” Susan asked.
I glanced at Laura, who was hanging on our every word.
“All of this is off the record,” I said. “Understood?”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“If he doesn’t talk,” I continued, “we’ll hold him on attempted first degree murder charges for his attack on Regan, and then we’ll just keep working.”
Susan waved for me to follow her. I did and she led me out of earshot of Laura and Pauline.
“If we didn’t have probable cause to arrest Saul, he had every right to jump in the water and swim away,” she said. “It’s no different than someone running when they see a police car.”
“That’s true,” I said with a nod, “and Regan had every right to jump in and go for a swim herself. She accidentally bumped into him and he violently kicked her in the face. That’s when she actively tried to take him into custody. He responded by choking her.”
Susan sighed. “Amy said she was a smart one.”
“Yes, she is.” I nodded for emphasis and then frowned. “He nearly drowned her, Sue. We came very close to losing her. Melvin had to give her CPR to bring her back.”
“She was unresponsive?” Susan asked incredulously. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. Karla just said they needed two ambulances to respond and that a suspect was down and an officer injured. I didn’t realize she almost died.”
“Yeah, I found her at the bottom of the bayou unconscious. It was a close call. Melvin saved her life.”
“So did you,” she said. “If she was unconscious, I know she didn’t get out of the water on her own.”
I explained how I hadn’t been able to make it to the surface on my own. “It was just too damn deep. I played out before I reached the surface. If Melvin hadn’t pulled her out, we might both still be down there.”
“Well, I’m glad all of you are okay.” She touched my bare chest. “Where’s your shirt?”
“It’s ruined.” I shot a thumb toward the ambulance where medics were desperately working to stabilize Saul Bankston. “That asshole got his blood all over it.”
CHAPTER 44
When I arrived at the hospital later, I met Amy in the lobby of the emergency room.
“Whose shirt?”
I glanced down at the oversized Buds Guns T-shirt I’d borrowed from Melvin. “Thankfully, Melvin had an extra change of clothes in his truck, so I didn’t have to show up shirtless.”
“Saul’s still alive,” she said, plucking at the front of the shirt. “You need to put on a few pounds. Most married men your age can fill out an extra-large.”
I ignored her comment and asked about the severity of Saul’s wound.
“Apparently, the knife blade didn’t hit anything important.”
“He sure bled a lot.”
“That’s because Regan twisted the blade in the wound. Caused all kinds of tissue damage.”
“No kidding?” Now I understood why the wound had looked so jagged. Stabbing someone was a very close and personal form of self-defense. Most folks didn’t have the stomach for that type of brutality. While they might do what was required in a desperate struggle for life, they often suffered from psychological problems in the aftermath of such violence. “How’s Regan holding up?”
“She’s fine.”
“How about mentally—how’s she dealing with what happened?”
“She’s got nerves of steel.” Amy nodded her appreciation. “I went to college with her and I knew she was assertive and tough, but we never got into any real trouble together—you know, where we had to kill someone. I never—”
“I would hope not,” I said with a laugh and a shake of my head.
“Right. Well, I never realized she was such a badass. I’m really impressed. She’s not afraid to fight for her life and she doesn’t apologize for what she’s got to do. On the other hand, she seemed relieved to hear that Saul had survived. She doesn’t seem to hold any animus toward him. She’s very level-headed.” She paused and then grinned. “I guess all of my good qualities rubbed off on her during those early years.”
I nodded absently. I was tired and hungry, but I wanted to check on Regan and then I wanted to see our prisoner. I told this to Amy and she led the way to Regan’s room.
“I want to leave,” Regan was saying to the nurse. “I’m fine.”
“The doctor wants to keep you here overnight for observation,” the nurse responded. “He said you can’t leave until morning.”
Regan threw the covers off and dropped her socked feet to the floor. “I’d like to see him try and stop me.”
“Regan, I think you should listen to them,” Abel said. “You almost died. There might be some brain damage or some other problems.”
“They checked my oxygen levels—” It was then that Regan saw Amy and me standing in the doorway and clamped her mouth shut. A curious expression fell over her face. “Clint, what happened out there?”
We hadn’t spoken about the incident on the boat ride back to the landing. After tending to Regan and getting a brief statement from her about what had happened between her and Saul underwater, I had gone right to working on the criminal. No other words had been exchanged between us, so she didn’t know how she had ended up back on the boat.
“The last thing I remember,” she said again, “was that I had caught up to that scorpion dude under the water and he kicked me in the face. I then grabbed his leg and he got free and began choking me. I was about to lose consciousness, so I stabbed him. He wouldn’t let go, so I cut the hose on his regulator. That’s the last I remember. Next thing I know, I was waking up on the boat coughing and vomiting up water.”
I gave a brief and blunt description of what had happened, making sure she was aware that if it hadn’t been for Melvin, we would both be dead.
“Why would you be dead?” she asked. “You got out of the water on your own.”
I didn’t bother telling her that if Melvin had not been there, she would’ve sunk back to the bottom of the bayou despite my best effor
ts to keep her afloat, and there was no way I would’ve stop trying to save her.
“If I were you, I’d listen to Abel,” I said before turning to Amy and asking her to take me to Saul.
I heard Regan grumbling as we walked out, but it sounded like she was relenting.
We stopped at the nurse’s station briefly and asked to see Saul.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible tonight,” said the head nurse. “He had to undergo a blood transfusion. The procedure went fine and he’s expected to make a full recovery, but it was touch and go for a moment. He’ll have to spend at least a week in the hospital.”
“Well, he’s under arrest,” I said, “so we’ll be keeping a deputy outside his door at all times. He attempted to kill one of our officers and he will not get away with that.”
“Understood.”
As soon as we walked away, I called Mallory and asked if she could make arrangements for a twenty-four-hour guard. She said she would get right on it.
I had just ended the call and Amy and I were heading for the exit when my phone rang. It was Beth Gandy, our weekend dispatcher. I had called her earlier and asked her to run Saul Bankston’s name through the criminal databases in Louisiana, Florida, and Alabama. She was calling with the results.
“He’s got a long rap sheet out of Florida,” Beth said in her motherly voice. “A lot of misdemeanors and a few felonies. His last arrest was five years ago for arson, attempted murder, and resisting arrest. There’re no details about the incident, but he pled guilty and was sentenced to eight years. It looks like he did two and was let out on parole.”
“If he’s on parole, he’s probably not supposed to leave Florida.”
“That must be why there’s a warrant for his arrest for violating his parole,” Beth said, feigning astonishment.
“Why didn’t you lead with that?” I asked, chuckling.
“And where would the fun be in that?”
After talking briefly, I thanked her and ended the call.
“Shit,” I said to Amy.
“What is it?” she asked, stopping outside of my truck and waiting for me to activate the keyless remote.
