But Not Forsworn: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 21)

by BJ Bourg

  “The arresting officer wants to talk to you,” said the young guard. He pointed to the phone. “You can make a call before he gets here if you like. They say you get one, but I don’t care if you make more.”

  I took a seat and glanced up at the kid. His nametag read S Rankin and he looked to be twelve.

  “How old are you?” I asked. “You seem too young to be working here.”

  “I’m eighteen,” he said. “I want to be on patrol, but I’ve gotta wait until I’m twenty-one.”

  “Eighteen…” I shook my head slowly.

  “What about it?” Rankin asked.

  “I was eighteen when I joined the force in La Mort,” I explained. “I’m wondering if I looked as young back then as you do now. It seems so long ago and so far away.”

  “You were a cop?”

  “Still am.”

  The boy’s brow furrowed. “What’d you do to get put in here?”

  “Not a damn thing.” I shook my head. “The arresting officer made a huge mistake.”

  Rankin glanced over his shoulder and fixed his eyes on the door. He then turned back toward me and leaned close.

  “Look, if I was you, I’d use that phone to call a lawyer,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve seen Detective Monier bring people in here before, and he’s mean. A few months ago, I heard some hollering from this same room, so I rushed inside to see what was happening. When I came in, I found him choking out his suspect. Now look, I don’t mind a good fight every now and then, but I don’t like cops who hit on people when they’re cuffed and shackled. That ain’t fair and it’s against the law.”

  “What’d you do when you caught him choking the suspect?”

  A wide grin spread across his face. “I grabbed a hold of him and hip-tossed him across the room.”

  “No way!” My mouth dropped open as I studied the kid. Sure, he was young, but if he really did what he said he did, then he definitely had sand—and morals. He reminded me of myself at that age. “What’d David do?”

  “Oh, he was mad, that’s for sure.” Rankin laughed heartily. “He threatened to have me fired for hitting a superior officer.” He shrugged. “I told him I’d have him arrested for beating a helpless prisoner. He didn’t like that one bit, but he wasn’t about to take a swing at me because I wasn’t cuffed and helpless.”

  There was a clanking noise outside the room and Rankin paused. He walked over and pushed the heavy metal door open to see what was going on in the corridor. When he returned, he said Detective Monier had just arrived.

  “You might wanna call that lawyer before he comes in here.” Rankin pointed to the phone again. “I wouldn’t say a word to him if I was you.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I waved my hand dismissively. “What ended up happening after you dropped David on his ass?”

  “After I told him I’d report him, he just left.”

  “Did you report him?”

  “Hell yeah, I reported him. I filed an official report with the warden and I also told the prisoner that he should report Detective Monier, but when the warden interviewed the prisoner, he claimed Monier never touched him.” Rankin chuckled. “You know what the crazy thing was?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I got written up.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes, sir. There’s a write-up in my jacket for making a false report. The warden said if it happened again I’d be fired.” He shook his head. “And nothing happened to Detective Monier. I appealed the write-up, but the sheriff refused to change it. Apparently, he’s buddies with Monier and he thinks the world of him.”

  Just then, the door creaked open and David Monier’s frame darkened the opening.

  I gritted my teeth in anger as I stared at the asshole. I should’ve done something about you a long time ago.

  CHAPTER 31

  After David Monier was seated and had dug out his notepad, he advised me of my Miranda rights and slid the sheet over for me to sign it. I did so without hesitation.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a lawyer,” he said with a sneer. “I thought you’d know better than to make a statement.”

  “This won’t be difficult,” I said smoothly. “You obtained an arrest warrant on the false testimony of a proven liar. Good luck with that.”

  “She’s not a proven liar.” David’s voice rose slightly. “You’re a proven liar. I’d take my victim’s word over yours any day of the week.”

  “David, she told Susan and me that she didn’t know the combination to her husband’s safe,” I explained. “Yet she opens it for the man who attacked her. She lied.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to assault her and rob her of the iPad.”

  “Why on earth would I want to steal the iPad?”

  “That’s a good question,” David said. “Why don’t you answer it?”

  “Look, someone killed Ralph Plant and stole his cell phone, and that led me to believe there was something on the phone that implicated the killer in something,” I explained. “This new information—the fact that someone attacked Kim Plant and stole the iPad—confirms what I’ve suspected. Ralph had dirt on somebody, and they killed him for it.”

  “If it wasn’t you, then why’d you get rid of your wristband?” David asked, tossing a photograph across the table. “That sure looks guilty to me.”

  I glanced down and saw a picture of me standing in front of the Plant residence. The Remember the Fallen wristband I wore was enlarged to the point that I could read the lettering.

  “I didn’t get rid of my wristband,” I said with a smile. “The guards took it off of me when I checked into this hotel. Didn’t you know the guards strip you of everything when you’re booked into jail?”

  David’s face flushed with embarrassment and anger. He retrieved the photo and then dug through his leather briefcase for something else. It was a legal-sized document. He slapped it on the table and slid it in my direction. I glanced at it. It was a search warrant to recover a DNA sample, photograph my wrists, and recover my wristband.

  I was about to wish him luck in finding my DNA, but suddenly remembered that Kim Plant had been grabbing on my wristband and clawing at my arm. Shit!

  “Why do you need my DNA?” I asked, trying to appear casual. I could guess why he obtained the search warrant for it, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “You know how this works,” he said with a glint of humor in his eyes. “My victim scratched you when you attacked her, so we clipped her fingernails and recovered your DNA under them.”

  “Actually, you don’t know whose DNA you recovered,” I corrected. “You won’t know until you compare a reference sample from me. And if my DNA is under her fingernails, I can explain it.”

  “I can explain it, too. You beat the shit out of her and stole her iPad.”

  “Look, David, we’re wasting time here.” I shot a thumb over my shoulder. “Somewhere out there we have a killer running loose—”

  “It’s Detective Monier to you.” David crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Remember when you called me a little prick?”

  “You mean back when you showed up to arrest Susan and tried to treat her like a common criminal?” I nodded. “Yeah, I remember calling you a little prick.”

  “Well, I get the last laugh.” A smug smile spread across his face. “I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I knew it would come. I knew you would step in it at some point. I knew all I had to do was bide my time and it would happen.”

  “You know, I still owe you for shooting my dog.” I thought about reaching over the table and slapping him across the face, but as good as that might make me feel, it wouldn’t help my situation at all.

  “That was an accident,” he said quickly. “His bark—he sounded like a large dog. I didn’t realize he was a puppy.”

  “You know how you panicked back then and overreacted?” I asked. “Well, you’re doing the same thing now. You’re so blinded by your hatred for me that you can’t
even see that Kim’s lying about the attack. I don’t know why she made up that story, but she did. The only time I ever entered her house was with Susan.”

  “I’ve got a jogger who saw your black Tahoe parked at the front of her driveway during the time of the attack.” He smiled. “Is she lying, too?”

  “What time was the attack?”

  “Three-fifty-three in the afternoon.” He leaned his forearms on the table. “Answer me—are you calling this witness a liar, too?”

  “That means her attacker must’ve approached the house from the back or the sides of the property,” I mused in a low voice. I drummed my fingers on the desk, trying to remember the lay of the land. I thought there might be a neighborhood behind their property. If the attacker approached from that area, then we might get lucky and find him or her on one or more home surveillance systems.

  “Clint, are you even paying attention?”

  I snapped out of it and glanced up. “What?”

  “Are you calling my witness a liar?”

  “No,” I said with a wave of my hand, “she’s telling the truth. I parked there while waiting for Detective Lieutenant Mallory Tuttle to obtain a search warrant for the house.”

  “And that’s why you attacked Kim!” David said quickly, as though he’d just trapped me in a gotcha moment. “The judge denied the warrant and you had to get your hands on that iPad to delete whatever was on it. You see, at first I thought you were going to the extreme to solve a case, but then I realized you must’ve needed what was on that iPad. That’s the only reason—”

  “Your theory is mud. I received word from Mallory that the judge denied the warrant at four-twenty-five. If the judge hadn’t denied the warrant by three-fifty-three, why on earth would I attack Kim?” I paused and fingered the tan line where my wristband used to be. “And this wristband is hardly evidence. Thousands of cops and even more citizens have one of these. I hope you presented more than this flimsy shit to Bill Hedd, because if he allowed you to get a warrant based on this garbage, he needs to have his law license revoked.”

  “I’ve got plenty more evidence.” Although David tried to sound confident, I could tell he was starting to wonder just a little. But he still wasn’t about to give up, and he pointed to the scratches on my wrist. “Those scratches are extremely damning, because my victim clawed her attacker while he was choking her.”

  “This?” I laughed and held up my left arm. “I got these while digging through ashes in a metal drum. You can contact Chet Robichaux. He’s the farmer who flagged me down to report a fire on his property. He offered me a rag to wipe away the blood, and it’s still in the drum. My DNA and some of my skin cells will be on the edges of the drum. Send your lab techs out there and check it out if you don’t believe me.”

  “That’s some story.” David shifted in his seat. “You also claim that Kim’s lying, but what about her sworn testimony to the DA’s office? She identified your wristband and said she scratched you. It all fits. And look, it’s one thing to lie to a state police detective in a statement, but to lie under oath under the penalty of perjury? Not likely.”

  I considered that. Either Kim was intentionally lying, or she was telling the truth and simply mistaken.

  “If Mrs. Plant didn’t kill her husband, then she had a rough day yesterday,” I said slowly, working through the logic in my mind. “So, it’s possible she is telling the truth, but she’s confused.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  I ignored David and continued laying it out.

  “Kim found out early in the morning that her husband was dead, and then she was traumatized by the image of his dead body on the desk in his office,” I explained. “While I was interviewing her, she was pulling on my wristband and letting it pop on my arm. She was fixated on it. It was like she was in a trance. While she talked, that’s mostly all she focused on. Later, she gets attacked in her home and severely beaten, and this is the second traumatic incident she endures within twelve hours. It’s highly possible that—due to her mental state—she conflated the two incidents. I’m no psychologist, but we can find out if it’s possible that she was seeing my wristband in her mind’s eye while she was being choked.”

  “Nice try, hotshot,” David said with an ugly sneer, “but you won’t be discrediting my witness today.”

  He removed another photo from his briefcase and made a show of tossing it toward me like he was playing the part of a detective in a suspense movie.

  I glanced down and saw what appeared to be a wrist reaching up toward a security camera. The person in the video wore a long-sleeved shirt, but it was pulled back enough to reveal a thin blue line wristband with the phrase, Remember the Fallen embossed on it—just like the one I wore.

  “Holy shit!” I blurted. “A cop attacked her!”

  CHAPTER 32

  “Are you for real?” David shook his head in exasperated fashion. “Of course it was a cop—it was you!”

  I was thoroughly confused now. While it was possible anyone in the community could’ve been wearing a Remember the Fallen wristband—especially since our folks were strong supporters of law enforcement—it was more commonly worn among the officers themselves. During the brief time I worked the case, I’d never considered a cop as a suspect, and that was because there had been no evidence of trouble between Ralph and any cops.

  I began making a checklist in my mind. I would have to get a search warrant for Ralph’s phone records and cross-reference every number in his call logs against every law enforcement contact list I could get my hands on, and I would have to begin with the jurisdictions wherein he practiced law. Cops were good at remaining detached at trial and during interactions with defense attorneys, so I doubted any cop would be mad over losing a trial. No, this had to be more personal. Maybe Ralph had been instrumental in getting a cop fired. Being out of work in this economy could turn desperate in a hurry. But would they kill over it? I wasn’t sure. A desperate soul out of work might steal money or food, but would they kill a man and take his iPhone just to get revenge for their firing? I shook my head. What was I missing?

  I looked up when I saw David stand. He had a pair of buccal swabs in his hands. They were essentially long cotton swabs used to collect DNA from the insides of a subject’s cheeks.

  “I need to swab you for DNA.”

  I nodded and endured the process with a scowl. When he was done, I indicated the photo of the gloved hand covering the surveillance camera. “That’s not my wrist.”

  He snapped the cap on the last buccal swab and glanced down at the photo. He then turned to look at my wrist with the scratches on it. “They look the same to me,” he said. “Most importantly, the district attorney and all of his prosecutors and investigators agree that I’ve got a solid case. They sanctioned the warrant, so you know what that means.”

  I sank back in my chair and went over all of his evidence in my mind. On the surface, I had to admit I was pretty screwed. While I knew I didn’t do it, my word alone wouldn’t get me out of this mess. I was in front of Kim’s house during the time she was attacked, so I didn’t have any alibi witnesses. This meant I would have to come up with my own evidence disproving each part of his case, which would help prove my innocence.

  Sure, the burden of proof was on the prosecutor, but I wasn’t about to gamble with my freedom. This amount of circumstantial evidence might just convince a jury that I was guilty—and there was a good chance my DNA was under Kim’s fingernails from when she was plucking on my wristband during her interview.

  A broad smile spread across David’s face. “Ah, you get it now, don’t you? You know it’s over—that I’ve got you. There’s no way out for you. I can see you’re ready to confess. As you know, I can’t make any promises to you, but I’ll definitely put in a good word to the district attorney. If you show remorse, I’m willing to bet they’ll land at a plea deal that’ll be satisfactory to you and your family.”

  “If that’s what you’re reading int
o my expression,” I said with a chuckle, “then you need to go back to one of your interview and interrogation schools.”

  His face flushed with anger. “You won’t be laughing when I find your DNA under my victim’s fingernails.”

  “Of course you’ll find my DNA under her fingernails,” I said with a wave of my hand. “She was crying and clutching on my arm when I was interviewing her earlier in the day.”

  “You’ve got an answer for everything. You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” An ugly scowl played across David’s face. “Did you go to college, Clint?”

  “No, not a single day.”

  “I got my Masters in psychology, which means I can read you like a book.” David leaned forward and reached out to place a hand on my forearm. “Look, buddy—”

  “If that hand lands on me,” I said evenly, “you’re not getting it back.”

  His hand froze in midair and he stared into my dark brown eyes. I know he saw the hate. I’d thought of him many times over the years, and by the expression on his face, I knew it showed. Often, it was when Achilles and I were sitting alone somewhere having a quiet moment, and then I would feel the scar from David’s bullet. I would mutter a few curse words and tell Achilles what I would do to David if I had the chance.

  David quickly retracted his hand, but he wasn’t done. “Clint, I know you’ve got a decent record as a detective, but if you try to match wits with me, you’re going to lose big time. I’m part of a new era of law enforcement. I’m college educated, which means I’m smarter than the average cop, and I’m smarter than you.”

  There were a lot of things I could’ve told him, but every word of it would’ve been a waste of my breath. So, I simply nodded.