by B J Bourg
“None of my friends fit those descriptors.”
“Can I meet them and verify that fact for myself?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you treat my friends like common criminals. I understand you’ve got a job to do, but my advice to you is to do your job—and leave me and my friends out of it.” Breaux stepped closer. “Your time is up. I’ve said all I’m going to say about the matter. Now, it’s time for you to get off my property.”
Robinson pursed his lips and indicated for me to follow him off the man’s porch.
CHAPTER 31
Twelve days after the abduction of Sherry Hebert…
I peered through the binoculars, studying Heidi Beard from my perch. I’d never seen her with her hair down, nor had I ever seen her in a red miniskirt and a revealing blouse. I was in complete awe. She looked absolutely stunning. With some effort, I tore my eyes from her and scanned the street to her left and right. All was quiet.
“You see anything, kid?” Detective Sergeant Chad Robinson asked from beside me. We were standing atop the bridge under which Flower was kidnapped and were five blocks from where Sherry Hebert had been taken. Heidi was hanging out between the two points. She was bravely the fly in our spider’s web, and we were the exterminators waiting for the spider to show his ugly face.
“No, I don’t see anything. It’s like a graveyard out there.”
“It’s too damn quiet.” Robinson picked up his radio and whispered for everyone on our team to stay on their toes. Next, he called to Heidi and asked if she could see or hear anything from her position.
“Not a thing,” she whispered into the invisible microphone that was taped to the side of her face. “I haven’t seen a car or a person in ten minutes. It’s spooky.”
We had been out here for five days straight, rotating between two teams of a dozen officers and two decoys, Heidi being one of the decoys and a female officer from the narcotics division being the other. Since both kidnappings had occurred within the Devil’s Triangle, it was here that we concentrated most of our efforts. By my own request, I had been assigned to the night shift with Heidi. I thought the suspect would strike again at night, and I wanted to be there when he did.
The only bad thing about working nights was that I had to put up with Weaver. He was twenty yards to my left and had an AR-15 trained on the streets below. Not only did I have to see the ugly brute, but I also had to listen to his annoying voice on the radio. For some reason, the man wouldn’t shut up. He would conduct radio checks every few minutes sometimes, and was always trying to boss someone around.
As for Robinson, he had been here every night, and a detective had told me he was also out here during the daytime. While he usually wore dress slacks and a button-down shirt, he now wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap in case he’d have to pretend to be a citizen out for a stroll. I was positive the man never slept and, although it hadn’t seemed to bother him before, he appeared tired tonight. I wasn’t sure if that’s why he was edgy, but I did notice a difference in his demeanor. I asked him about it.
“It’s nothing, kid. I’m just ready to nail this bastard.” He shifted his feet and leaned against the concrete barrier. “I can’t retire with an open case on my record. I have to find out what happened to these women and I have to catch this monster.”
I frowned as I scanned the street below for the umpteenth time. I had learned a lot watching the old detective in action, but we kept coming up short and he had been growing increasingly frustrated. He had ordered surveillance on the residences of Jake Cuttin, Rhett Trolley, and Leonard Breaux, although they didn’t live within the confines of the city of La Mort. Our police chief had been in favor of it at first, but ordered our officers to back off after he’d received a complaint from the chief of police in Watersville, where Breaux worked as a patrol cop.
A warm breeze blew in from the south and stirred my hair, but it did nothing to cool me off or to scare the mosquitoes away. Sweat dripped down my face and burned my eyes. I blinked to clear them and turned back to Heidi. She had been pacing back and forth earlier as though she was a prostitute on the job, but now she stood motionless, staring into an alley that was about twenty feet away from her.
I nudged Robinson and pointed. He was suddenly alert. “Red Bird,” he called, using Heidi’s decoy name, “what’s your status?”
“Something’s moving in the alley,” she said in a low voice.
“Act normal,” Weaver barked. “Stop looking in the alley.”
Heidi appeared tense, but she turned casually and began walking slowly in the opposite direction, just as she had done most of the night. “You’d better not let him get me. So help me God, if he gets his hands on me, I’m going to haunt you until the day you die.”
Weaver let out a hoarse laugh that made me want to shut off my radio. “You can haunt me anytime you want, baby.”
“I’m not your baby, asshole,” Heidi hissed.
I turned to stare at Weaver—my blood pressure rising—and saw that he was approaching Robinson and me. “Let’s go, Chad,” he said. “We need to get close to her.”
Robinson pushed off of the concrete barrier and started for the cruiser. I started to follow suit, but Weaver put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“Not you, Rookie. I need eyes in the sky. You’re going to give me a play-by-play account of everything that happens.” He glared at me. “And if you screw this up, I’ll—”
“I don’t give a shit what you’ll do.” I turned to Robinson. “Sir, I’ll be useless up here. You’ll need me down there.”
“It’s not his call,” Weaver said before Robinson could respond. “I’m running the tactical operation, and I want you on that wall. We’ve got enough people on the ground.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Rookie.” He turned and headed for his cruiser. “Let’s go get this bastard, Chad.”
Robinson hesitated, then tossed me the keys to his unmarked unit. “If shit starts getting deep, get your ass down there as fast as you can. I want you as close to me as possible.”
I nodded my understanding and shoved the keys in my pocket. I quickly turned to keep an eye on Heidi until they could get in position. Once they were set, I was going to jump in the cruiser and head down there myself. To hell with Weaver. I’d deal with him later.
CHAPTER 32
I watched Heidi closely, trying to read her body language. I couldn’t see into the alley because of the darkness and the angle, so I’d have to rely on her to let me know if someone was coming. I was tempted to ask for an update on the radio, but I didn’t want to clog the traffic in case she needed to speak. So I waited, every muscle in my body tense.
I could no longer hear Weaver’s cruiser. He had coasted down the exit ramp with his headlights off and was now somewhere below me. I heard a slight metallic click as a door closed and knew one of them had exited the cruiser and gone on foot. It didn’t take me long to realize it was Robinson, because I caught sight of his dark figure walking across the street toward Heidi. He clutched a beer bottle in his left hand and he stumbled a bit as he walked. His hat was now on sideways and a pant leg was pulled up.
Had I not known better, I would’ve guessed him to be a drunk. Hell, I did know better and I found myself wondering if he’d been taking a nip from a hidden flask—he was playing the part that well.
“Someone’s coming down the alley,” Heidi said softly, her voice quivering just a little. “And they’re trying to be quiet.”
I trained my binoculars on the entrance to the alley, but could see nothing but utter blackness. My instinct was to run to Robinson’s cruiser and race down to the street to help Heidi, but I knew I had to stay put, at least for now. When things started going down, I would get there as fast as I could.
“Take it easy, Red Bird,” I heard Weaver say in my earpiece. “You can’t let him know you suspect something or he won’t come out into the opening.”
Robinson was still lumbering
toward the sidewalk Heidi was on, and he was about fifty yards to her left. It appeared he wanted to reach the sidewalk first, at which point he could walk toward Heidi and pass in front of the mouth of the alley. They were about two blocks from where the first abduction had taken place. I swallowed hard and watched through my binoculars. My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t be sure of the distance between myself and Heidi, but I knew I couldn’t hit anyone from my location with a pistol.
“Stay alive, people,” Weaver said. “Chad’s moving in to get a better look. Once he confirms the suspect is in that alley, he’s going to keep walking past Red Bird to allow the suspect to show himself. When the suspect reveals himself, Red Bird’s going to confront him. Chad’s going to back her up. At that point, we’ll move in for the takedown. This area is surrounded, so if he makes a run for it, we’ll simply tighten the net around him.”
As I watched the scene unfolding in front of me, Robinson lifted his beer bottle into the air and hollered, “Hey, sweetie, looking for some company?”
He was almost even with the opening to the alley now. Heidi stopped and turned to face him. She shook her ass a little and took a step closer. I noticed her right hand was dangling close to her purse, where her pistol was located.
“Whatcha got in mind, baby?” she asked in a seductive voice. They were some distance away, but their voices carried on the hot night air. “You want to have some fun?”
Robinson was even with the alley now and had just opened his mouth to say something, but he never got to finish his sentence. In a blur of action, a dark figure reached out from the alley and grabbed him from behind. I saw a large arm wrap around his entire head—completely enveloping it—and lift him off of his feet. If Robinson hollered, we couldn’t hear it. His face was trapped in the crook of the man’s elbow like a pecan in a nut cracker, and he was dangling by his neck. He kicked with his legs and flailed his arms in a helpless manner.
“Get him!” I hollered from the bridge, leaving my post and sprinting for the unmarked cruiser. I don’t know how I found the keyhole in the ignition, but before I knew it, I was racing down the exit ramp and heading for the intersection to the street where the attack was taking place. The police radio had erupted in chaos. Heidi could be heard through her invisible microphone hollering orders and threatening to shoot the man, while Weaver was stepping all over her traffic. He barked orders and began pulling everyone off of their original assignments, telling them to converge on the alleyway. His voice had lost its authoritative edge and he now sounded like a terrified child.
“What in the hell are you doing, you big buffoon?” I hollered when I whipped the steering wheel and skidded onto the street. Weaver was hiding behind his cruiser and screaming for backup, rather than trying to save Robinson. Heidi had disappeared into the alley, not waiting for backup. I drove Robinson’s cruiser straight for the mouth of that dark and eerie throat of danger. The tires screeched and the gears on the transmission ground terribly as I smashed the brakes and forced the gearshift in park.
I leapt from the driver’s seat and snatched my pistol from its holster. I ran toward the alley. The headlights had illuminated the dark tunnel and my heart sank as I saw Robinson’s lifeless legs dangling in front of the large man. The man was backing toward the end of the alley, but I couldn’t make out his facial features in the shadows that danced in the light.
“Put him down or I’ll shoot!” Heidi demanded. “I’m not going to warn you again!”
From my vantage point, I couldn’t get a clear shot on the suspect without the risk of hitting Robinson or Heidi, and I knew Heidi was having trouble getting a bead on him, too. I was soon standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her and we were moving toward the suspect and Robinson. The headlights had failed to penetrate the last dozen feet of the alley and we found ourselves in utter darkness. I strained to see the suspect’s face. Was it Breaux? Or Trolley? Or Cuttin?
With my left hand, I pulled a small, but powerful, flashlight from my back pocket and flicked it on. Before I could aim it at the large man, he had backed through a hole in the fence and disappeared around the corner. Heidi and I rushed forward and bumped into each other as we squeezed through the opening.
“Damn it!” I yelled as we caught sight of the man running toward the lake. He had thrown Robinson over his shoulder and the detective’s limp body was bouncing up and down against his attacker’s back. Heidi and I ran as fast as we could, but we were no match for the giant with the long and flowing red hair. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
We were running through a field of knee-high grass and the going was tough, but hope filled my chest when I heard sirens screaming directly behind us. I grabbed Heidi and pushed her toward the right just in time to avoid us being run over by a marked patrol car that was racing toward the river.
I thought I saw Weaver in the passenger’s seat, but I couldn’t be sure. I bristled. He’d had an opportunity to help save Robinson, but he had decided to hide and save his own ass. For that, he would pay dearly.
We were still running across the field when I saw the taillights glow brighter in the distance. The cruiser was stopping. I was about to state the obvious to Heidi—that they had reached the river—when gunshots suddenly erupted in the distance. That lit a fire under our asses and we ran even faster. I was impressed with Heidi’s running abilities. She was as fit as any officer I’d met thus far, and she possessed double the courage.
The gunfire was continuous as we ran, and there was only a slight pause as they reloaded before continuing to shoot. When we reached the edge of the river, I saw Weaver firing his AR-15 recklessly into the water, screaming like a madman as he unleashed a barrage of bullets in the direction of the suspect and Robinson—a man from which I’d learned so much.
“Hold your fire,” I hollered as I ran. “You’re going to kill Detective Robinson!”
When I reached Weaver, I grabbed his thick shoulder and pulled hard, spinning him away from the river’s edge.
The large man jerked out of my grasp and started to level his rifle, his eyes on fire and his hatred obvious. I didn’t know if he wanted to butt-stroke me or shoot me, and I wasn’t taking a chance on either. I wrapped my left hand around the hot barrel of his rifle—it burned like hell—and shoved it downward and to my left. Before he could react, I punched him in the jaw as hard as I could. It was a good punch. It made a crunching sound in the darkness and my right foot left the ground as I delivered it, transferring all of my weight into the punch.
Weaver staggered backward and his grip on the AR-15 loosened. I jerked it free and tossed it to the ground. I then stepped forward, watching as Weaver tried to catch his balance. Before he could, I hit him again, this time directly on the left temple. He stiffened and stood frozen for a split second, a look of utter shock on his face. I didn’t know if he was out or not, so I hit him two more times—once in the throat for good measure—and he finally collapsed to the ground. I didn’t bother checking on him.
Someone had aimed a spotlight on the exact spot in the river where the suspect and Robinson had last been seen. Now, the only thing visible was a violent array of air bubbles.
Without hesitation, I dove headlong into the cool water, hell-bent on saving Chad Robinson. Before I could even begin to kick my feet and paddle my arms, the river wrapped me in its strong current and sent me racing in the opposite direction. I managed to break the surface of the water briefly and got some much needed air. I glanced around but the only thing I saw were lights from the nearby bank flashing by at blinding speed.
Silently cursing myself for not shedding my boots, I began to kick desperately with my feet and paddle with my arms. I thought I was getting traction, but something suddenly smashed into my shoulder and I plunged beneath the surface, swallowing a large mouthful of muddy water in the process.
PART THREE
Present Day
Mechant Loup, Louisiana
CHAPTER 33
It was noon on the seventh day of our search
for Kaitlin Shelton when I got the call. Although we had been searching the area around Le Diable Lake for a week, we hadn’t located Kaitlin or a single shred of evidence to prove she’d ever been out there. The longer we went without finding Kaitlin, the stronger that sense of foreboding grew in my gut and the harder it was for me to argue against this case being somehow connected to one I’d assisted on in La Mort. The fact that the kidnapper in the La Mort case had struck again on the seventh day was not lost on me, and I was worried we were about to lose another victim. Of course, I had been holding out hope that this was just a coincidence, but that phone call shattered all doubt.
To say that the volunteers searching for Kaitlin were frustrated would be putting it mildly, and tempers were starting to run hot. I had just interceded in an argument between two boat captains about who was going to search a certain patch of woodlands when my SAT phone began ringing.
“You,” I had said to the captain who appeared to be the more reasonable of the two, “search this area and you”—I’d pointed to the other man—“search the area east of here. Please, and thank you—both of you.”
Grumbling, the men nodded and proceeded to honor my request.
“This is Clint,” I said in a frustrated voice. “How can I help you?”
There was a long pause and then I heard my wife’s voice. “Is it that bad out there?”
She and I had been swapping search duties, and it was her turn to be in town while I was out on the lake. On my first trip back to town, I had taken the SD cards from the game cameras Leroy had placed around their campsite and searched every digital inch of the files, but it had turned up nothing useful. Other than picking up the wild boars right before they charged my location, some deer, a raccoon, and several coyotes, it hadn’t recorded anything of substance.