by B J Bourg
The woman wrapped her arms in front of her body and nodded. “That would be nice. I don’t think I want to be out here tonight.”
Detective Robinson summoned one of the patrol officers and spoke briefly with him. The patrolman nodded and approached the witness and they walked toward his cruiser together. I recognized the officer from the briefing earlier in the evening at the beginning of our shift, but I didn’t remember his name.
Not knowing what else to do with myself and not having received any calls over the radio, I followed Robinson to where the crime scene tape began. I had noticed small groups of onlookers gathering up and down the street, and I tried to search the heads of those in the group to find the tallest man amongst them. There were a few tall individuals, but none of them were much taller than six feet.
“A man as tall as a house should’ve left some kind of sign that he was here,” Robinson muttered as he ducked under the crime scene tape. He paused and turned to me, reaching for the pendant again, as though it was a bad habit. “When you first enter a crime scene, you have to keep your head on a swivel. In addition to evidence, you’re looking for danger. The preservation of life is of utmost importance, and your life is the most important of all.”
I must’ve frowned a little, because he cocked his head to the side and asked, “Do you doubt what I’m telling you?”
“I would’ve guessed the lives of innocent people are more important than my own.”
“How can you protect innocent people if you get yourself dead?”
I nodded. He did have a point.
“Now, look out for any hazards—human or otherwise—as we go down this alley. And if you step on a piece of evidence, I’ll make damn sure you spend the rest of your career writing parking tickets up and down Second Street.”
While in the academy, I’d heard that writing parking tickets was the ultimate punishment, but I wasn’t so sure. It seemed like an easy gig, albeit boring, but I could think of worse ways to be punished, such as sitting behind a desk answering phone calls. At least I would get to be out in the fresh air writing tickets.
I was following Robinson down the dark alley, using my flashlight to pick my way, when he stopped abruptly. He bent at the waist, studying something on the ground in front of him.
“Wolf?” he asked. “You did say your name was Wolf, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you think is one of the most overlooked areas of a crime scene?”
Having never worked a crime scene, I had no clue. When I didn’t respond, he pointed to the ground.
“Officers will be careful not to walk on shell casings or step in blood or destroy other types of physical evidence on the ground or floor,” he explained, “but few of them consider dusting for latent shoe patterns—or, in this case, footprints.”
I stepped gingerly around him until I could see where he was pointing. There was a section of concrete missing from the paved alley, leaving a square area of soft mud exposed. At the center of the patch of mud, there was a bare footprint that appeared fresh—and it was gigantic.
CHAPTER 22
I watched with great interest as Detective Robinson placed an evidence ruler next to the footprint and called for the crime scene photographer to take some pictures. When the photographer approached the alley, Robinson pointed out the route for her to take, and she slowly made her approach. She stopped beside me and gasped audibly when she looked down at the footprint.
“Good Lord, that’s a huge foot,” she said, swinging her camera off of her shoulder to start taking some pictures. “What size shoe do you think he wears?”
“I’m not sure,” Robinson said, “but that print is seventeen inches long.”
We both stood back while the photographer did her thing, and then he called a technician over to recover a cast of the footprint.
“Damn,” said the technician, who looked to be in his early eighties. “I’ll need a five-gallon bucket of Plaster of Paris to recover a cast of that crater!”
“Just do it already.” While the technician worked, Robinson waved for me to follow him around the scene. He pointed out different points of interest and began explaining the various investigative processes that went into working a crime scene.
About an hour later, the tech had removed the cast and told Robinson that he would let it cure overnight and it would be ready the next day. Robinson thanked him and continued combing the alley, searching for the tiniest pieces of evidence. Other than the footprint, we hadn’t found anything and we were about to run out of real estate. It was when we’d made our way to the very end of the alley that we got lucky.
Like the alley through which Heidi had chased the suspect, a large field that led down to the river bordered the back of this alley, but the opening wasn’t as big as the one from the other alley. In this alley, a wide section of the lower half of the chain link fence had been cut away, leaving a hole about five feet wide by four feet high. Detective Robinson squatted by this opening and scanned every inch with his flashlight.
“Our friend came through here on his hands and knees,” he declared, “and he left something behind.”
Curious, I craned my neck to see what he was removing from the fence with his gloved hand. It was a long strand of fiber, and it was thick. I whistled. “Is that a hair sample?”
“Nah, it looks like a strand of burlap. It must be from the monster’s clothes. Maybe we can recover soil and other minerals from it to help us determine where this bastard is living.” He placed the fiber in the palm of his left hand and made a fist, securing the item inside. He then peeled the glove off with his right hand and tied the opening in a knot. I made a mental note to remember that trick.
“Okay, Wolf,” he said, “time to get out of here so the technicians can start throwing chemicals around. We’ll also need to check on the search team. Have you been monitoring the radio?”
Although it was dark as we walked back toward the street and he probably couldn’t see me, I nodded. “It sounds like the K-9 team tracked through that grassy field, to the river, and east along the riverbank for about a mile. They lost it somewhere at the water’s edge.”
Robinson stopped on the street and studied our surroundings. Some of the individuals who had gathered along the streets earlier in the night had lost interest and the crowds had mostly dissipated. “So,” he said after a long moment, “our friend jumped in a boat and high-tailed it out of here, taking Sherry with him.” He turned to me. “What do you think he’s going to do with his victim?”
I thought long and hard about the question, considering a dozen different scenarios. None of them seemed viable and I really didn’t know what he was going to do with the lady, but the detective was staring at me like he expected an answer. When it seemed I was taking too long to answer the question, I shook my head. “To be honest, I have no clue.”
There was a long pause, and then he nodded and waved for me to follow him down the street toward the alley where I’d last seen Heidi.
“That’s a good, honest answer.” He grinned for only the second time that night. “Every time I catch a rookie near one of my crime scenes, I bring them along and try to teach them something. Like I did with you, there’s always a quiz afterward, and I’ll be damned if you’re the first one in over two decades to admit you didn’t know the answer. To an individual, they all throw out some bullshit theory, and they’ve never been right—not one of them. For some reason, they invariably feel the need to offer an answer, regardless of how ridiculous it is. They want to appear smart. They want to impress the old detective sergeant who might have a hand in approving their transfer to the bureau some day in the future.” He paused and glanced sideways at me. “But you—you don’t give a shit if I’m impressed or not, am I right? That must mean you don’t give a shit about the job, or you plan on being a patrol dog your whole career.”
“No, I definitely give a shit about the job,” I said, pausing to ponder what he’d said. “But I never really
considered where I wanted this career to go. Patrol seems cool, so I guess I figured I’d just hang around here for a while. It’s where all the action is after all, right?”
“I could be wrong, but you appear smarter than the average bear. Of course, you don’t have to be too smart to be a detective—you just have to be a good blood hound. A detective’s job is to follow the evidence—go wherever it takes me. You have to also give a shit about your victims. Always remember you represent them, and you work for God.” He stopped walking and turned to look me directly in the eyes. “And no matter what, make damn sure you always do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. You want to be able to put your head down on the pillow and sleep soundly at night. If you cross that line between good and evil, your dreams will forever be tormented and you’ll never sleep soundly again.”
CHAPTER 23
The sky had grown a shade lighter and the dark shadows from earlier were starting to disappear by the time Detective Sergeant Robinson and I had joined Heidi, Lieutenant Weaver, a K-9 officer, and a few other officers at the edge of the water where they’d lost the kidnapper’s track.
“This is where his boat was waiting,” the K-9 officer surmised. “I’ve got a helicopter coming to take me to the other side so I can find where he came out. No one heard a boat motor, so he’s probably in a pirogue. My guess is he ended up that way”—he pointed downriver—“because it would be too hard to paddle against that current. It’s deadly. I’ve seen tugboats struggle to stay on course before.”
Robinson nodded and everyone seemed to back off as he moved forward. It was clear they all respected him. We watched as he squatted on his heels and inspected the ground near the river bank.
“Where’ve you been, Rookie?” Weaver asked, glaring at me from under his thick brow and grabbing everyone’s attention—well, except for Robinson, who remained focused on his job. “Hiding like a little bitch? Were you scared to come out and play? Did you have to call your mommy? Did you wet your diaper?”
I knew this was part of the process and that some officers liked to mess with new recruits, so I simply did my best to ignore the brute and concentrate on watching Robinson search the area. I was smart enough to know I could learn a lot from this man, and I wanted to study his every move.
The detective’s eyes were half closed. He appeared to be testing the wind with his nose, or trying to sense a presence that was no longer there. He turned downriver and then upriver, seemingly scanning every inch of the water. I wondered briefly if he was looking for a trail across the water, but then quickly dismissed the notion. That couldn’t be possible, especially in our lowlight condition. I cocked my head to the side when he licked a finger and held it to the wind. I noticed it was his middle finger, and he was subtly aiming it in Weaver’s direction. He was a curious man, that’s for sure, but I found myself liking his style and methods.
“Don’t you ignore me, Rookie,” Weaver snarled, stepping forward until he was standing directly over me. “I asked you where in the hell you were, and you’d damn well better tell me.”
I shifted my feet slightly, dropping my strong leg back a few inches, and turned to look up at the man. I was calm as I stared coolly at him, and that seemed to anger him even more.
“You think you can take me, boy?” Weaver asked, closing the slender gap that separated us and bumping me with his chest. “You’d better show some respect, or I’ll shove my lieutenant bars so far up your ass you’ll be blinking gold.”
“He doesn’t think he can take you, Weaver,” Robinson called calmly from where he was still squatting. “And it’s a good thing, because you’re going to have to save your strength to fight that big bastard over there.”
Weaver’s head jerked around. He suddenly lost interest in me. “Big bastard over where?”
We all crowded around Robinson and our gazes went to where he was pointing. There, about a mile up the river and on the opposite bank, a giant man was silhouetted against the pale sky. We couldn’t make out his features, but he was backlit enough against the ever-brightening sky that we noticed long hair flowing down around his large shoulders. There was something else on his shoulders, and it appeared to be in the shape of a human being—or a large sack of potatoes.
“Headquarters, we need that chopper ASAP!” hollered the K-9 officer. “We’ve located the suspect on the eastern bank of the river. We need a team heading there now!”
Someone turned on a giant spotlight and aimed it in the direction of the large man, but he quickly turned and ran away, the bundle on his shoulder bouncing with each step he took.
“I don’t see a boat,” Heidi commented incredulously. “Did he swim across the river?”
“That’s impossible,” Weaver said in stunned disbelief. “No one can swim across that river, not even me.”
“He didn’t just swim across the river,” said the K-9 officer. “He swam against the current for a mile and then crossed over to the other side.”
“And he was carrying a body,” I offered, glaring at Weaver.
He glared back at me, but didn’t say a word. Instead, his expression let me know he’d deal with me later, and he began walking upriver on our side of the bank. Picking up his portable radio, he began barking orders into it, telling someone to get a boat out to his location—he screamed, “I want it here yesterday!”—and he told the person on the other end to bring him an AR-15.
I moved over to Heidi. Her face was flushed with excitement as she looked me over. “Aren’t you glad you transferred to this shift?”
I grinned. “I haven’t seen this much action since I started, so, yeah, I’m glad.”
“It was so crazy chasing him into that alley.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else could hear. “I won’t lie to you; I thought I was a goner. I knew if I’d catch that big lug I’d have to shoot him, and even then I didn’t know if my bullets could stop him.”
“I’ve never seen anyone that big. The footprint was almost twice as long as mine and definitely twice as wide.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what rock he climbed out from under, but it had to be the size of Mount Rushmore.”
She was about to respond when headquarters called out our radio numbers and asked for our location. I figured they knew we were taking part in the search for the suspect, so I didn’t know why they would be calling us. I snatched my radio and told them where we were. Heidi and I glanced at each other and she asked me what I thought was going on.
I shrugged, looked at my watch. It was almost five o’clock, which meant it was almost shift change. A few seconds later, the dispatcher came back on the radio and told us that our shift lieutenant wanted us to report back to the squad room immediately, because the day shift was already en route to the location to assist Detective Robinson and the K-9 officers.
With a heavy scowl and a few curse words, we turned and trudged back to our cruisers. I glanced once toward the river and caught sight of Robinson. I wondered what it would be like to work a case from beginning to end. If I responded to a serious call as a patrol officer, I simply secured the scene, arrested the suspect if he or she was still present, separated witnesses, tended to the victim, and then turned the case over to someone else. Once a detective was on scene and everything was stabilized, I was usually ordered to resume normal duties.
“I bet it would be cool to be a detective,” I said to Heidi once we had reached our cruisers. “Things are just about to get good, and they’re forcing us to go home.”
“We have to be back out on shift tonight.” Heidi only stated the obvious. It was early Tuesday morning, and we would have to come out this afternoon to complete the last night of our shift. “Now, if this would’ve happened tonight and we would’ve worked into tomorrow morning, they might’ve let us stay out and work into the day.”
I was thoughtful, and then declared, “I think I’m going to apply for detectives.”
“Good luck with that,” she said. “Even if you are lucky enough to become a detecti
ve some day, it won’t be for at least five to ten years. I heard they like officers with a solid patrol background, and you don’t have that yet.”
CHAPTER 24
Twelve hours later…
It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon and I was sitting at my desk in the squad room waiting for the shift commander to deliver the pass-ons from the day shift. I leaned toward Heidi, who sat in the desk beside mine. “Did you hear anything more about the kidnapping?”
She shook her head. “Not a peep. They’re keeping it quiet for some reason.”
“They probably don’t want to admit that Big Foot is real. It’ll make them sound crazy.”
Heidi laughed so suddenly and unexpectedly that she snorted. I laughed at her snort, and we fed off of each other. We were still laughing when the shift commander pounded his fist on the lectern. “Listen up, crew,” he called in an authoritative voice. “As you all know, there was a kidnapping in the Devil’s Triangle last night. Detective Robinson is lead on the case and his team has been working the case all night and all day so far, but they haven’t turned up a single lead. This is all we know: a large man with seventeen-inch feet and long hair abducted a prostitute named Sherry Hebert. The man is believed to possess uncommon strength and he can swim like an otter. He is not to be—”
“You just described Big Foot,” called a gruff voice from somewhere behind me. Laughter erupted across the squad room and Heidi and I joined in. The shift commander didn’t seem amused.
“As I was saying, he is not to be taken lightly. According to her family, the victim weighed about a hundred and fifty pounds, and—according to the one witness—this man threw her up onto his shoulder like he was tossing around a five-pound bag of rice.” He looked over the rim of his reading glasses and stopped to stare at each of us individually as he surveyed the room, pausing a few seconds before moving on to the next. When he had stared at every officer in the room, he said, “This is no joke, ladies and gentlemen. We don’t know who this man is, but he’s dangerous. Keep your eyes peeled and watch each other’s back. If we get a call about a giant man being seen in the area, I don’t want anyone approaching him alone. Wait for backup. Let’s make sure we all come back here at the end of our shift, and in one piece.” He nodded. “Now get your asses out there and do some good.”