Clint Wolf Series Boxed Set 3

by B J Bourg

  “Tempers are flaring, but I guess it’s to be expected.” I rubbed my sun-beaten face and dropped to the seat of the flatboat in which I rode. My shoulders drooped wearily. “If someone gets kidnapped today, we’re in deep trouble.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t think the two cases were connected?”

  I stared across the canal in the direction of a small alligator that was sunbathing on the bank. “They can’t be,” I insisted, more to myself. “The kidnapper was killed in the river with Detective Sergeant Robinson. I still say it was that idiot Weaver who killed Robinson along with the suspect, but we’ll never know for sure.”

  “What if the suspect wasn’t killed in the river?” Her voice was hesitant. She knew I didn’t like having this discussion. “You did say they never found either of the bodies.”

  Although she couldn’t see me, I waved a hand dismissively. “We rarely recovered bodies that drowned in the river, and they still don’t. They’re usually taken downriver and washed out to sea long before they start floating. The ones that are found in the river usually get hung up on the debris along the banks and it still takes months or years before those bodies are located. Hell, the police department recovered at least a dozen corpses over the years that they thought was Robinson, but they always turned out to be other boaters or swimmers who had gone missing.”

  Susan was quiet for a long moment, and then I asked if she called for a reason or simply to check in.

  “No, I definitely called for a reason.” She hesitated briefly, then said, “I just got a call from the crime lab.”

  I suddenly sat up straight, holding my breath in anticipation. I had submitted the hair I’d recovered from the zipper of Kaitlin’s tent and submitted it to the crime lab, but I expected that to come back to Kaitlin. What I was really waiting on was the work up on the gold pendant with the Saint Benedict cross on it. I had found it dangling from a tree nearly a week ago as I was making my way back to the campsite where Kaitlin had been taken. The pendant was attached to an old and weathered leather strap that had gotten snagged on the branch and ripped from the neck of whoever had been wearing it.

  Recognizing it as the same type of pendant Detective Sergeant Chad Robinson was wearing when he disappeared, I had immediately recovered it and checked the back side, searching for his initials. For my efforts, I only found a tarnished and rough surface. If the initials were present at some point, it had been scratched away. I submitted it to the lab hoping that they might be able to recover the initials, but my hopes had begun to dwindle after I’d called the technician repeatedly without receiving any return phone calls.

  “Well, what’d they say?” I asked when Susan paused. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Using DNA samples from Mr. and Mrs. Shelton, they were able to match the hair to Kaitlin—”

  “What about the pendant?” I asked impatiently. “Were they able to recover anything under the scratches?”

  “Yeah.”

  My heartbeat quickened. “Well?”

  “Your hunch was right, Clint—it’s his pendant. They were able to lift the initials C A R from the scratched metal. They got with a member of his family and they were able to determine that it definitely belonged to Detective Sergeant Robinson.”

  “Holy shit,” I said weakly, “this is real. This isn’t a drill. That son of a bitch is alive and he’s back.” I slumped so far back that I nearly toppled out of the boat. My surroundings were spinning fast, making me dizzy. I didn’t know what to think, but I had to admit that I felt a bit apprehensive. This was probably the most dangerous and elusive suspect I’d ever encountered. He had killed one of the best detectives I’d ever met, and he would most certainly kill again. I was suddenly afraid for the people in our community, and for our officers.

  And if this kidnapper was still out there, where had he been for the past sixteen years? There was no way he had been able to keep his nose clean for that long. A slender ray of hope suddenly found its way into my thoughts. If the kidnapper was still alive, did that mean Chad Robinson was also still alive? Was Robinson being held captive somewhere?

  I shook my head, quickly dismissing the notion. Weaver had given testimony under oath that he had killed the kidnapper and, even if none of his bullets had struck Robinson, the older detective would’ve surely drowned. Had he still been alive, he would’ve made contact with the department.

  Another idea occurred to me. What if there had been two giant men working in tandem, going around kidnapping people? Weaver had killed one of them, but what if the other was still collecting bodies for whatever sick reason? But why wait sixteen years to strike again? And if the first suspect had been killed along with Robinson in the river, how on earth had the second suspect ended up with Robinson’s pendant? I shook my head to clear it. I was starting to get a headache.

  “Wait a minute!” I said, lurching upright as I realized Kaitlin was no longer in the swamps. Whoever had kidnapped her had taken her far away from here, just like the kidnapper had taken Sherry and Flower far away from La Mort. Worse yet, the kidnapper was due to strike again—today! “Sue, get on the phone and call every volunteer you can. Tell them to get out of the swamps immediately. The kidnapper has chosen this area of the swamps for his hunting grounds, and he won’t stop until he’s kidnapped one, maybe two more people.”

  I didn’t wait for her to respond. I ended the call and began yelling like a mad man for everyone to get the hell out of the area. “Clear out and head to town!” I hollered to the boaters and searchers within earshot of me. “Everyone’s in danger! Spread the word! Get back to the boat launch in town immediately!”

  Melvin, who had been standing on the bank readying a group of volunteers to hit the swamps again, turned to face me. He shielded his eyes against the brilliant sunlight and stared in my direction. “What’d you say?”

  I fired up the engine on my flatboat and coasted closer to the land. “We need to get out of here. The kidnapper’s going to strike again.”

  His brow furrowed as realization fell over him. I had told him earlier about the possibility of the pendant I found belonging to Robinson, but in the same breath told him it was impossible. “Is this really related to the disappearance of your friend?”

  “I…I mean, I guess so. If what the crime lab is saying is true, then it’s the same kidnapper—or someone who was working with him back then. I don’t know how else to explain the presence of his pendant out here in the swamps.”

  “You’re sending everyone back,” he said cautiously, “but what about you? What are you planning to do?”

  “I plan on being out here when he strikes again.”

  Melvin mulled that one over for a long moment. “If no one’s out here, how can he strike again?”

  “If I’m the only one out here, he has no choice but to come after me.” I subtly clenched my fists. “And I’ve got plans for him!”

  CHAPTER 34

  I rode my boat up and down the canals and across Le Diable Lake, warning all the volunteers about the impending kidnapping. Melvin was doing the same in the Boston Whaler. Two hours later, we met back at the spot where we’d originally located Leroy and his friends. Sweat poured from Melvin’s bald head and the front and armpits of his shirt were dark with moisture. I looked no less impressive.

  “Is that everyone?” I asked, wiping my forehead.

  “No.” There was a troubled look on his face. “Two boats filled with volunteers docked a few miles north of here and they took to the swamps, searching on foot. I called out to them and even walked about a mile into the bush, but I got no response and I didn’t see any of them.”

  I glanced skyward and considered my options. I wanted to be the only one out here today, but that was clearly not going to happen. It would be dark in a few hours. My window of opportunity was closing fast. Thinking quickly, I told Melvin to head to the boat launch.

  “But what about you?”

  “I’m going find the volunteers. If I can’t be
the only one out here, then I need to be around the other people who are. He’s going to strike, and he’s going to strike soon.” Remembering Flower, I added, “Possibly even in broad daylight.”

  “You’re not going without me.”

  I glanced at Melvin and opened my mouth to object. His jaw was set and his tone had a ring of finality that told me it would be futile to argue. I sighed and nodded. Secretly, I was glad to have my loyal friend with me. He was as strong as an ox and would run toward a hail of gunfire to save a complete stranger. I might need him with me if I was to survive. This monster—or another like it—had already taken one good cop and several innocent people, proving he was a force with which to be reckoned.

  Without another word between us, I abandoned my flatboat and jumped in with Melvin. As the sun was beginning its downward slide to the west, we raced toward the north. My thoughts whirled inside my head as we shot across the lake. My head bobbled with the up-and-down motion of the boat, and water sprayed my face with each downward chop. A nagging thought kept trying to creep its way to the forefront of my mind. The more I tried to push it aside, the harder it fought for attention.

  “Melvin, do you think Big Foot is real?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of the motor and the whipping wind.

  “No.”

  I glanced at him. His eyes were squinting against the water and wind. “If you’re right, then we’re dealing with a human.”

  “That’s what I believe,” he said simply, not diverting his eyes from the water.

  “Well, it would have to be a super human, because no normal man could’ve survived the shots from Weaver’s rifle that night.”

  I squinted against the wind and racked my brain, trying to remember everything I’d learned about Sergeant Robinson’s case. If I had the time now, I would drive immediately to La Mort and take a look at the old case file—if it still existed. While I had been busy moving our volunteers from the swamps, I had called Susan and asked her to contact someone with the La Mort Police Department and find out if the case file was still around. So far, I hadn’t heard back from her.

  I was about to ask Melvin how much farther it was to the group of volunteers when I saw something in the middle of the lake that made my heart stop in its tracks.

  “Melvin, look over there.”

  “I see it!”

  CHAPTER 35

  Melvin and I stood with mouths agape as we coasted toward the two aluminum flatboats floating in the middle of the lake. They had both taken on water and were barely afloat.

  “Those are for the volunteers.” Melvin frowned as he shut off the engines. “This can’t be a good sign.”

  I scanned the surrounding lake and the nearest bank. There were no human signs anywhere that I could see. Melvin was studying the surface of the water, searching for a trail through the algae and lily pads. After a few long seconds, he shook his head. He pointed to a thin clearing through the vegetation that led from the shore of the lake to our current location, and then he pointed in the direction from which we’d come.

  “There are trails through the water leading from the shore to these two boats and from the south to our boat, but there’s nothing showing where the suspect’s boat went.” He lifted his hands in the air. “What the hell, Clint? How can a boat just disappear into thin air? What are we dealing with—some kind of demonic spirit or something? Some voodoo shit?”

  I licked my dry lips and nodded slowly, knowing how it was possible and knowing why the man—or whatever the hell it was—had disabled boats.

  “These creatures—or humans—they act like alligators,” I explained. “They come ashore, snatch up their prey, and then carry it off into the water. They can drop below the surface and swim underwater for long periods of time. They can hold their breath forever, it seems, and can resurface at the other end of the lake, leaving no trace through the water that they’ve ever been there. They know the only way we can catch them is by boat, so that’s why they disable our vessels.”

  “Hold on just a minute.” There was a look of disbelief on Melvin’s face. “Are you trying to say they swim away to make their escape? That they carry a human body across the water for miles?”

  I nodded and pointed toward the boats. “Can we tow these back to the shore for when we find the volunteers?”

  He nodded and began pulling a tow rope from a hidden compartment under the driver’s seat. Neither of us spoke while we secured the tow lines to the boats, each of us lost in our own troubling thoughts. As for me, I kept glancing toward the land, hoping to see the volunteers appear from the trees. I had no such luck.

  After we were done, I sighed, and said, “Let’s go check on the volunteers. I’ll call Susan and get a chopper in the air right away. I’m afraid someone’s either already missing or he’s stalking this group.”

  Melvin quickly fired up the engines and headed for the shore while I made the quick call to Susan. I could feel the weight of the water-filled flatboats putting a strain on the twin motors. I glanced back once while I updated Susan to make sure there weren’t any problems, but the boats were coming along just fine.

  When I was done talking, I described to Melvin how Sherry’s abductor had swum against the strong river current with his victim in tow, and then how he had done the same thing with Robinson. “It was the greatest display of human strength I’d ever witnessed,” I said. “I jumped in to save Robinson, but the current dragged me several hundred yards downriver. Had it not been for me bumping into a log and latching onto it, I believe I would’ve drowned.”

  “Do you think it’s possible he’s still alive?” he asked. “I doubt there are two kidnappers in this world capable of that feat. Hell, I have a hard time believing there’s one. But if what you’re saying is true, maybe he managed to get away.”

  “I know it’s got to be him, but I have no idea how he’s still alive. Lieutenant Weaver swears he shot him full of holes.” I inhaled and blew out forcefully. “He’s like a horror movie monster—just when you thought he was dead, he reappears and ruins everyone’s day.”

  Melvin pulled back on the throttle and we slowed considerably, but our momentum carried us up and onto the shore. Before Melvin could kill the engines, I leapt from the bow of the boat and landed deftly on the soft mud, carrying the line with me. I secured the loose end to a tree and studied the ground while waiting for Melvin to join me.

  “Holy shit!” I pointed to a large bare footprint in the soft mud. I then said what I’d already known. “He’s here!”

  Melvin picked his way across the soft ground until he was beside me. He whistled. “Damn, those are some big feet!”

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I surveyed the lake to my left and the thick swamplands to my right. What if the creature was out there right now, watching us?

  “Melvin, I think it’s best if you stay and guard the boat. If he gets his hands on the Whaler, we’ll be stranded for at least the night and we’ll be easy pickings.”

  He rested a hand on his AR-15, which was slung over his shoulder. “Let him try to take it.”

  I didn’t share his confidence. Palming my own pistol, I gave him a nod and headed into the bush. I was no tracker like Melvin, but I could plainly see the wide path the search party had plowed through the swamps. Large clumps of grass were smashed, twigs had been snapped clean, and muddy shoe impressions lined the swamp floor, all of which made my going easy.

  Sweat rained down my face as I trudged on—often sinking to my ankles in the soft mud—and I was beginning to wish I’d brought my shotgun. Detective Sergeant Robinson might’ve been up in age, but he was no slouch, and I’d seen how easily the monster had handled him. Of course, the suspect had taken him from behind—

  “Oh, shit!” I quickly snapped my head around, realizing I hadn’t been checking my rear. I also looked up. And all around. He could be hiding anywhere. I rotated the muzzle of my pistol everywhere my eyes went, ready to engage the suspect if necessary. Satisfied, at least a
little, that I wasn’t in imminent danger, I continued forward.

  I hadn’t traveled another fifty feet when I heard a booming voice cry out from somewhere in front of me.

  “Gloria!”

  I stopped walking so I could listen. There was a brief pause, and then a different voice hollered the name. I could hear the panic in the voices.

  Oh, God! I thought. Gloria’s missing!

  I rushed forward, announcing my presence long before I came into contact with the small group of searchers. There were six of them, four men and two women, ranging in ages from eighteen to forty.

  “Oh, thank God, Detective Wolf,” one of the women said. I recognized her from town. Her name was Connie Taylor and her husband had been the victim of a murder some time back. “We’re looking for Gloria. She needed to pee, so we walked down a ways to give her some privacy, and now she’s gone.”

  “Yeah,” chimed in one of the men. “We waited for about five minutes, but when she didn’t show up we started calling out her name. She didn’t respond, so we came looking for her.”

  I took a breath, studied each of their faces. They all appeared worried, but one woman seemed especially distressed. Definitely the girl’s mother. I shifted my feet as I considered what I would say next. There were no questions to ask about the girl’s friends, enemies, prior boyfriends, or work associates. I didn’t have to ask about her normal hangouts or check her social media accounts. No, I knew who—or what—had taken this girl, and I knew we would probably never get her back. Now, the only thing left to do was deliver the bad news.

  “Ma’am, I hate to have to tell you this,” I said slowly, studying the woman’s face carefully. A shade of white washed over her and she began shaking her head from side to side as large tears spilled from her eyes. “I’m afraid she’s been taken.”