by B J Bourg
The room erupted in movement and the sound of chairs sliding across the floor. Two dozen officers headed out the door and into the parking area, where we all approached our respective cruisers. Heidi’s car was parked next to mine and she paused before entering the driver’s seat.
“Want to grab a burger later tonight?” She asked, reaching into her cruiser and pulling her mirrored sunglasses from the visor and putting them on. “Or would you prefer to eat with your homeless friends under the bridge again?”
I pulled on my own sunglasses and studied her. I didn’t like that she’d been spying on me, and I didn’t like that she knew what I’d done. “No one needs to know about that.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why not? Are you worried you’ll get in trouble?”
“If I could get in trouble for feeding homeless people, then I wouldn’t want to work here.” I shook my head. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t like making a big deal out of things.”
“Your secret is safe with me. Well, I’ll call when I’m ready for you to buy me a burger.” She flashed a perfect smile. “And I won’t tell a soul.”
I entered my cruiser and drove off, shaking my head in amusement as I did so. The first stop I made was at a pizza joint a mile from the precinct. After ordering three large supreme pizzas, I tossed the boxes onto the front passenger seat and drove to the homeless camp under the bridge. The first person I saw was Flower, and she was wearing the same outfit from yesterday.
“Baby,” she called, turning to look over her left shoulder toward the tent. “That cop’s back and he’s got pizza!”
“Clint, my man,” Larry said after he had pushed through the flap of the tent he shared with Flower. He was shirtless and covered in sweat. It appeared he had been sleeping, but his eyes widened when he pulled on his glasses and saw the boxes of pizza. “You brought that for us?”
I nodded and handed the food to Flower. The second tent wobbled and I could hear grunting from inside. Within a few seconds, Curly pushed his dark head through the flap. “I smell food!”
“I thought I’d change it up and give y’all some variety,” I said. “I got pizza this time.”
Curly smiled broadly and his face lit up. “Son, you’re going to spoil us.”
“Tonight’s my last night for two days. I won’t be back to work until Friday, but I’ll be working the whole weekend and I’ll bring more food at that time.” I frowned, knowing I could never go without food for two days. Sure, I could stay alive without food for two days if I had to, but I loved to eat way too much for it to be comfortable. I didn’t like skipping a single meal, much less six of them. “Can y’all hold out until then?”
“We can live off of this for a week.” Flower lifted her shirt and pinched her thin stomach. “I don’t have a lot of room in here anymore. One bite and I’m almost full.”
I smiled and listened as they made idle chatter, but my thoughts were far from this homeless camp. I was wondering where that large man could have gone and I wanted to cross the river and search for him. While it was in our jurisdiction, it was outside of my area of responsibility, and the shift commanders usually frowned upon us leaving our assigned areas.
“What’s the matter, Officer Clint?” Larry asked. “It looks like something’s bothering you.”
I scanned the camp, wondering how they got their news out here. “A lady was abducted last night.” I decided not to identify her by her profession. What she did for a living didn’t matter. She was someone’s daughter or sister, maybe even mother. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her. “It would be wise if y’all took turns sleeping. At least one of you should remain awake at all times to be on the look-out for any dangers that might lurk around here at night.”
“We’re not scared,” Curly said. “We’re always hearing gunshots and sirens and people screaming. It’s a way of life for us. When it’s your time to go, it’s your time. Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”
I didn’t agree, but I didn’t argue. “All the same, keep your eyes out for a very large man—probably eight feet tall—with long hair and big feet. He snatched up a woman last night and carried her away like he was shouldering an empty backpack.”
Curly and Larry traded glances.
“How big did you say this man was again?” Larry asked.
“About eight feet tall.”
All three of them gulped in unison. “That’s big,” Larry said, putting a protective arm around Flower. “It would be hard to miss a man that big.”
“It would.” I pulled a card from my shirt pocket and fingered it for a few seconds. The nearest payphone was a mile away. I couldn’t expect them to walk that far to make a call if they saw something suspicious, but I wanted to help solve this case, and they were as likely a few snitches as any. I finally reached out my hand and gave Curly my card and a handful of quarters. “Can one of you call me if y’all see a man fitting that description? The number written on the back is for my cell phone.”
“The way you’re taking care of us, that’s the least we can do.” Curly shoved the card in his front pants pocket and smiled. “Does a reward come with the call?”
I thought about it. I was a single guy with very few bills. My only weakness was buying guns. I could afford a little incentive. “Sure,” I said. “How does a hundred dollars sound?”
Their eyes lit up and they didn’t have to say another word. I knew they would call if they saw anything.
I went back on duty and handled six calls before it was time for dinner. Heidi radioed that she would meet me at a Chinese restaurant located in the center of the Devil’s Triangle. I got there first and squinted as I pushed through the glass door. The window was frosted and I wasn’t able to see inside until I had already committed to entering. I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the interior. When the objects in the room came into full view, I groaned inwardly. There, sitting with two other street cops against the far wall on the right, was Lieutenant Weaver, and he was glaring right at me.
CHAPTER 25
A television was blaring in the corner of the room to my left. There was an empty table under the television, and it was straight for this table I headed. A news anchor was talking about the disappearance and they were showing nighttime footage from the scene and daytime footage from the short, but intensive manhunt.
“Hey, Rookie, where in the devil do you think you’re going?” called Weaver from his table. A wicked grin had spread across his face. “You know it’s rude not to sit with your superior officers, don’t you?”
I ignored Weaver and took a seat with my back to the wall so I could face the door and the room. It was clear that he didn’t like being ignored, and he stood to his feet. At that exact moment, the door opened and Heidi’s body was silhouetted in the doorway. Every head in the room turned to look at her. She scanned the room and smiled when she saw me sitting in my corner. She headed straight for me.
“Hey, Baby,” Weaver called, “where do you think you’re going? I know you’re not going to sit with that loser. If you want to make a career in La Mort, you’d better sit with the winners.”
There were three couples in the place and a family of four. They all looked uncomfortable. Heidi, for her part, wasn’t fazed by Weaver’s comments. She just kept walking toward me and took her seat to my right, where she could also survey the room without putting her back to the door. A waitress was nearby and asked for our drink order. We each ordered a Coke, then asked for burgers and fries to go along with it. When she had whisked away, Heidi smoothed out the tablecloth.
“Are you done saving the world for today?” she asked.
I scowled. “Huh?”
“Did you feed your homeless friends?”
“Oh, yeah, I saw them earlier in the—”
“Are you trying to ignore me?” boomed Weaver’s voice. He was now standing directly over our table and was addressing Heidi. “What, do you think you’re too good for me? Is that it?
”
My blood began to boil. I knew my mom and dad would be sorely disappointed if I were to get fired this early in my career. On second thought, my dad would probably be secretly proud of me for beating down an asshole like Weaver. That is, if I could beat him. I was confident in my fighting abilities, but he was built like a fire hydrant, only much taller.
“No, sir,” Heidi said smoothly, staring into my eyes with a grin. Her eyes twinkled devilishly and I didn’t like it. “I don’t think I’m too good for you, I know it.”
When she’d said the last part, she’d turned to look up at him, as though not wanting him to be confused about her intentions.
“You little bitch!” Weaver reached back with his right hand, his face contorted and red. He was across the table from me, blocking my view of the door, and he would have to lean forward to strike Heidi. He never made it. I leapt to my feet and grabbed his right wrist with my left hand. My right fist was wrapped in a tight ball and I was about to unleash a powerful right cross when a voice boomed from behind the large man.
“Weaver!” It was Detective Robinson. “We’ve got a lead. Grab your boys and come with me.”
Weaver didn’t move for a long moment, and neither did I. His hand stayed cocked and my hand stayed on his wrist, and we were locked in a stare-off. It was Heidi who interrupted the moment.
“Lieutenant, they’re calling for you to go find that giant killer,” she sang. “They need your big muscles.”
Weaver jerked his hand from my grip and turned away from us. Waving the officers at his table forward, they all headed for the door.
“Meet me at the precinct, in the briefing room,” Robinson said. He waited until they were all gone and then he sauntered over to our table. “If you’re looking for trouble, young man, keep messing with Weaver, but I promise you one thing, you will not like the kind of trouble you’ll find.”
I smiled my confident smile. “Maybe it’s he who won’t like what he finds.”
Robinson chuckled. “If you say so, son.”
He was about to turn to leave when I put a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Could you use another pair of eyes?” I tried not to sound too eager. “I’d love to be a part of the case. I’m a quick study. I’m in the process of reading Vernon Geberth’s book, Practical Homicide Investigations, and I would consider it an honor to be a part of this investigation.”
“I’m sure you would.” He regarded me with a curious expression. “What about your shift commander? I’m sure he won’t like you running around with me while the calls for service are piling up. They need you out here, answering complaints, not out there playing detective. Weren’t you just transferred here to help fill a void?”
I frowned. The officer I’d replaced had injured himself during a foot chase—broken leg, or so I’d been told—and would be out for at least six weeks. An idea suddenly occurred to me. “What about the days I’m off? I’ll be off tomorrow and Thursday, and then again on Monday and Tuesday. Maybe he’ll strike again next Monday—it might be a pattern with him—and you could probably use the extra bodies.”
“Understand something, young man…we go where the evidence takes us, and we go at all hours of the day and night. There’s no shift work for us. We don’t always get to go home at the end of the day.”
“I’m aware.”
“And the police department won’t pay you overtime. You’ll probably—”
“I’d do it for free. Hell, I’d pay to be a part of it just so I could learn from you. It would be no different than paying tuition at a college.”
“You drive a hard bargain, kid.” Robinson sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. “Let me make a phone call, get it cleared with the chief. If he gives me the green light, I’ll let you tag along—maybe even beyond this case—for as long as you’re willing. We’re shorthanded in the bureau, thanks to three of my old buddies retiring on the same day last month, so I could use the help. But if you screw something up or don’t listen when I tell you to do something—even once—I’m sending you right back down here to the triangle, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your career. You’ll never get another shot at the bureau. Got it?”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“You little traitor,” Heidi said as I took my seat and watched Robinson walk away. The waitress, apparently waiting until Robinson was done, walked up and placed two plates on the table. “You’re trying to leave patrol.”
“No, you heard him,” I said hurriedly, snatching up my burger and taking a huge bite. After swallowing, I continued. “I’m only volunteering during my spare time. It’s temporary.”
“From what I’ve heard, nothing here is temporary. Once they agree to something, it’s permanent. That’s why my FTO said I should be careful before asking for a transfer to anywhere. He said to make sure I know what I want before I open my mouth.”
I briefly wondered who her field training officer had been, because mine had said the exact same thing. She was still talking and I saw her mouth moving—it was a pretty mouth—but I wasn’t really listening. I was wondering what tomorrow would bring and if the chief would honor Detective Sergeant Robinson’s request. Every officer out at the scene, including Weaver, seemed to either fear him or respect him. I couldn’t be sure which it was, but it was obvious that they all listened to him. I didn’t know much about such things, but he seemed to be a great detective, and I only wanted to learn from the best.
“Did you even hear what I said?” Heidi asked, her lips twisted into a pout. “I’ve been talking for five minutes and you haven’t said a damn thing.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I was just thinking about this case.”
She shook her head. “I can already predict your future as a detective…married young, four screaming kids, never home because you’re always working cases, divorced within five, all your money goes to child support, you lose your job for beating a confession out of a suspect, become a drunk, and, one day—after an all-nighter at one of the local strip clubs—you deep-throat the barrel of your revolver and call it a life.”
“I don’t carry a revolver,” I said around a mouthful of fries. “So, your whole prediction is flawed.”
She was thoughtful. “Did you ever wonder how you would die?”
“No—not once. I’m too busy trying to stay alive.”
CHAPTER 26
On the afternoon of the seventh day after the attack, I found myself sitting on the floor in a tiny cubicle surrounded by yearbooks. On Thursday, Robinson had ordered me to go to every high school in the surrounding four parishes and get one copy of the past twenty years’ worth of yearbooks, and then he’d told me to comb through every single book and identify the tallest athletes I could find. I had had to return to my patrol duties on Friday and work my shift through the weekend, so I’d brought some of the yearbooks in the cruiser with me. During breaks in my shift and when I would knock off of work, I would go through the books.
“If they look even a little bit close to seven feet tall,” he had ordered, “run their names up, down, and sideways through every database we have and find out what in the hell they’ve been up to since graduating.”
He had also gone to the media and requested information from the public regarding everyone they knew who was around seven feet tall or taller. He had been sure to explain that just because someone was seven feet tall it didn’t mean they had abducted the woman, but he said he wanted to eliminate as many innocent people as possible.
I was nearing the end of the yearbook search when a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Robinson standing there. “How many giants have you found?”
“Three,” I said, “but they don’t look large enough to be our suspect.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He grabbed the files I’d compiled and began rifling through them. “You’ve done some good work here. You’ve probably wasted a lot of time for nothing, but don’t be discouraged. The majority of your work as a detective will be spent running down rabbit holes
and coming up empty, but you’ll never know what’s down that hole until you jump into it. And trust me, if you fail to do one tiny thing during an investigation, a smart defense attorney will take that one thing and fill it full of air until it’s the size of the Huey P. Long Bridge, and then he’s going to shove it right up your ass in front of the judge, jury, and the victim’s family. Sure, it might not cost you that one case, but if you get enough bridges shoved up your ass during different trials, you’ll start developing a reputation. You’ll be viewed as a sloppy detective who, if you missed something in the previous cases, might have overlooked something crucial in the current case.”
I stopped what I was doing to glance up at him. He was rubbing his thumb and index finger on that pendant again and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I had to know what it was. Pointing to it, I asked, “What’s that thing you keep rubbing on? Is it a lucky charm or something? A metal rabbit’s foot?”
He glanced down, as though he hadn’t realized he was holding it. “Oh, it’s a medal with the Saint Benedict cross on it.”
“A what?” I hadn’t been raised Catholic, so I wasn’t accustomed to their traditions. I caught sight of the word CAR engraved into the back of the pendant and wondered about its religious meaning.