by B J Bourg
I struggled like a mad man, jerking as hard as I could on the straps that held my arms and legs. Every time I squeezed my right hand, pain shot through my index finger. I screamed profanities into the tape over my mouth, but I only managed a series of hoarse grunts. Even as I worked to free myself, my eyes were fixed like laser beams on the shadows in the hallway. Trolley was on top of Susan and he lifted his knife high in the air. My heart jumped into my throat and choked me. Everything moved in slow motion. Trolley’s arms seemed to pause for a split second over Susan’s body and there was an evil gleam in his eye.
The table beneath me rocked from my violent jerking and kicking. The blood rushed to my face and I strained to scream at Trolley. He was about to plunge the knife into Susan’s chest when a figure emerged from the darkness of the hallway. I cheered inwardly when I saw that it was Melvin. Like an aggressive linebacker tackling a running back, Melvin used his entire body to attack Trolley’s knife hand. Trolley’s arm wrenched violently backward and there was a loud snapping sound as the shoulder popped out of its socket. Trolley roared like a pissed off lion and reached for Melvin with his other hand.
I caught glimpses of Susan’s hands as she reached up and felt for Trolley’s eyes. She dug her thumbs deep into his eyeball sockets. He began to holler. A split second later, Weaver appeared from the hallway and launched himself into the air. He delivered a double kick to the giant’s chest. Trolley grunted as he folded over backward at the knees and fell to the ground. His feet were momentarily trapped under his body.
Susan quickly scrambled out from under Trolley and was just gaining her feet when Dawn brushed by her and delivered a swift kick to Trolley’s groin. It didn’t seem to faze him. With an animalistic grunt—and despite the body weight trying to hold him down—he pulled himself back to his knees. Like a whirlwind, he flailed with his tree-trunk arms and sent Susan flying in one direction and Weaver flying in the opposite direction. Weaver’s head slammed into the concrete wall and he sank to the ground, clearly shaken. Meanwhile, Susan crashed into the table upon which I lay and rolled over me and dropped to the floor on the other side.
“Cut me loose!” I said when her head appeared over the table. “I need to get in the fight!”
As she clawed at the strap on my left wrist, I kept my eyes on the fray. Melvin had wrapped Trolley in a rear-naked choke and was fighting desperately to keep the large man on his knees. Dawn was working Trolley’s stomach like a heavy bag, delivering kicks and punches like she was getting paid to do it.
“Now get some clothes on!” Susan said when she had pulled my wrist free and had crawled over me and dropped onto the other side of the table.
While I watched the violent struggle that was taking place just several feet away, I fumbled with the strap on my right wrist. Once it was off, I worked on my ankles and was able to free them within seconds. I rolled off of the table just in time to see Trolley flip Melvin over his back and drop him onto Gloria’s naked body. They both grunted from the collision and Melvin muttered an apology as he tried to right himself before Trolley could latch onto him again.
I didn’t bother searching for my clothes. While I didn’t relish the thought of fighting in the nude, I didn’t have time to cover up. Weaver was struggling to get to his feet, Dawn was being choked by Trolley’s left hand, and Melvin was just gaining his feet when Susan jumped into the air and dropped all of her weight onto Trolley’s right knee. The large man screamed in pain as his leg snapped like a tent pole and folded inward. He began falling to his right just as I reached him and drove my knee upward into his temple. When the two collided, his head snapped back, but extreme pain shot through my leg and I figured I’d gotten the worse of the exchange.
The blow didn’t seem to bother him much. He shook it off like a large bear shaking off a kitten, and he reached for the ground with his right hand. Thanks to Melvin’s earlier move, where he had wrenched Trolley’s shoulder out of socket, the right arm flopped like a wet noodle and the big man collapsed to his right side.
Weaver had recovered and dove back into the fight. He wrapped his beefy arms around Trolley’s legs and held on for dear life. Dawn leapt over Weaver and landed on Trolley’s neck with her left knee. I thought she would break it, but it didn’t seem to hurt the man much.
Susan and Melvin shoved Trolley hard and rolled him onto his face, where they got a hold of his left arm and fought it around to his back. While Susan strained to keep it in place, Melvin brought his wounded right arm to the back and they attempted to handcuff him.
“It doesn’t fit,” Melvin called, shaking his head to clear his face of sweat. “We need some rope.”
Thinking quickly, I located my pants under the table and removed the belt from the loops. “Here, use this,” I said, handing it to Susan.
She glanced at me and gasped out loud. “For the love of God, Clint, put your clothes on already!”
I pulled on my underwear and pants and then felt around for my shirt. As I put it on, I hurried to Gloria’s table and began releasing her from the straps that bound her. Once she was free, I fished her clothes out from under her table and handed them to her, turning my head so she could get dressed.
Trolley was cursing from his position on the ground, swearing to get loose and eat all of us. I returned to my table—feeling a little stiff from spending too much time on my back—and detached the leg straps from the bed. I then made my way around the other officers and handed the straps to Susan. She set about using them to secure Trolley’s hands.
By this time, Gloria had finished getting her clothes on and Dawn was leading her out of the dungeon. When they were gone, I searched around until I found a mop handle and broke it in half. Susan used a blanket and the pieces of the handle to fashion a splint on Trolley’s right leg.
“Help me get this big bastard to his feet,” Susan said to the rest of us, and we all threw our shoulders into the task. Trolley grumbled the entire time, but he was through resisting arrest. He allowed Weaver and Melvin to get under his arms and help him hobble out of the room and down the hallway.
I turned to Susan when they were gone. We stood for a long moment just staring into each other’s eyes before she rushed to me and threw her arms around my neck. “God, I was so scared, Clint! I thought I’d lost you!”
I held her and nodded, glad that it was all over. It was only then that I realized how stressed out I had been. My shoulders ached and my head pounded. I began trembling uncontrollably. Susan squeezed tighter. “It’s okay, love.”
“I thought I’d never see you and Gracie again,” I said softly, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It made me really sad. It was a lonely feeling.”
CHAPTER 52
We had been at it for three weeks now. There were large tents covering nearly every square foot of Rhett Trolley, Sr.’s back yard, and it was here that the crime lab technicians had discovered the remains of four individuals. Thanks to dental records, they had been able to identify the skulls of Chad Robinson and Sherry Hebert. The freshest of the remains had been linked to Gary Shelton and his wife and positively identified as Kaitlin Shelton. The remaining body was that of a female and had been tentatively identified as Flower. Members of the La Mort detective bureau had located a next of kin in Alabama and were in the process of making contact.
As for Rhett Trolley, he had given a full confession to Dawn and me, and provided the burial locations of his four victims. Additionally, he had led us to where he was hiding his boat and truck, and we had located the DNA of Kaitlin and Gloria inside the boat. Trolley swore he had not taken any other lives, and we were inclined to believe him. As we had wrapped up the interview, the big bastard turned to me and thanked me for catching him.
“I’m not a bad person,” he had said through sheets of tears. “I…I did what I had to do to survive back then. It’s not my fault the demons got a hold of me. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I was just doing what came natural.”
He’d made a pathetic figure, a giant m
an trembling and crying like a toddler, and I might have felt sorry for him had he not eaten my friend and three innocent women. He was currently being held at the Chateau Parish Detention Center and was due in court next week for his arraignment. I’d heard from Sheriff Buck Turner a few days ago and he told me security would be tight for Trolley’s court appearance, and he had requested my presence. Sheriff Turner had always been good to me and the town of Mechant Loup, so I’d agreed to be there.
“Who’s that?” Melvin asked from beside me.
We had been leaning against the back of my Tahoe watching the crime scene techs wrap up their search of the grounds, and I hadn’t noticed the car pull up. When I looked up, I saw a blacked out Suburban ease to a stop behind my Tahoe. The windshield was dark and I couldn’t see inside.
The door opened and a familiar woman stepped out wearing those same old mirrored sunglasses. “Holy shit,” she said, “if it ain’t Clint Wolf.”
I grinned. “Heidi Beard. What’s it been—fifty years?”
She removed her sunglasses and nodded sadly as her eyes scanned the large patch of upturned earth behind the Trolley home. “Yeah, it feels like fifty years.”
We did a little catching up, and I learned she was now the captain of the detective bureau. She was married, had two kids, and had nearly lost her life due to a nasty infection a few years back. “This bastard stabbed me in the gut with a rusty knife and I was forced to shoot him dead. Long after he was in the ground, his ghost came back and almost took me out.” She shrugged. “But like Billy Joel sang…you can’t kill bad grass.”
“I don’t think that’s how the song goes.”
“It’s whatever.” Heidi turned somber and told me she was sorry about what had happened with Michele and Abigail. “I heard you got married again and you’ve got a cool little kid.”
I could feel myself beaming as I talked about Susan and Grace. Achilles had made the ride to Scales with me and was sitting on the ground at my feet, so she was able to meet him. Melvin joined in on the conversation from time to time and it helped to pass the minutes. After we ran out of things to say, I asked what she was doing out here.
“Actually, I came to see you,” she said.
“Me?”
She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a yellow envelope. “This is for you.”
I took the envelope, which was sealed, and stared at the scribbling on the front of it. It was addressed to me and it read, In the event of my passing, to be opened by Clint Wolf only. “Who’s it from?”
“One of my detectives found it in a gun safe of a suicide victim. The suicide happened last month, but they just got into the safe earlier this week.” She paused, fixed me with a knowing stare. “It was Chuck Duval—Jennifer’s dad. He left a note saying he could no longer take the pain of losing his entire family.”
I frowned, hefted the envelope in my hand. I didn’t know what was inside, so I decided to wait until later to read it. I shoved it in my pocket and hung around for another hour before deciding to head back to Mechant Loup. Melvin and I had traveled to Scales together, so he jumped in the front of my Tahoe while Achilles jumped in the back seat. Achilles rested his head on the center console and I rubbed his neck while I drove. Melvin and I made small talk on the way home, but Achilles said nothing. We were all lost in our own thoughts. While I wasn’t sure what was going on in Melvin’s mind, I was pretty positive Achilles was thinking about Coco. He hadn’t seen her since early this morning when we’d left the house, and I could tell he missed her.
“Are we heading back to Scales tomorrow?” Melvin asked when I dropped him off at the Mechant Loup Police Department.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“See you then.” He waved and slammed the door shut. Achilles squeezed up through the seats, over the console, and took his place in the passenger seat. He sat tall and proud and I couldn’t help but smile at my canine companion. He stuck his head out of the window and allowed his long tongue to flap in the wind.
I flexed my injured index finger as I drove. Guilt tugged at my heart strings. While I was relieved Rhett Trolley was in custody and Gloria had been rescued, I was bummed that I hadn’t been able to save Kaitlin. I couldn’t imagine the horror she’d endured in her last minutes. I knew full well it was impossible for us to save everyone, but that didn’t make the pain any more bearable.
“Well, we’re home,” I said to Achilles as we cruised down Paradise Place and approached our driveway. Just as I turned in, I caught sight of Susan exiting the gym with Grace on her shoulders. Susan wore shorts and a sports bra and was coated in a shiny layer of sweat. She and Grace both smiled when they saw Achilles and me, and hurried to greet us.
I heard an excited yelp from the house and saw Coco rushing over to greet Achilles. She slammed right into him and they went tumbling sideways, wrestling playfully.
“Daddy!” Grace said, screeching from her perch above my wife. I reached out and took her in my arms, giving Susan a hug in the process.
“What’s this?” she asked, running her hand across my butt. When she brought her hand back, she held the envelope I’d gotten from Heidi Beard.
I frowned. I’d forgotten all about the envelope. Grace’s attention had turned to our German shepherds and she was pushing against my chest. I let her down and took the envelope from Susan.
“Chuck Duval committed suicide last month,” I explained. “He left this in his safe for me.”
“What’s in it?”
I had no clue, and I said as much as I measured the thickness of the envelope with my fingers.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“I don’t know if I want to.” I was worried it might contain something about Jennifer. “Maybe I should just burn it.”
“Hell, no! You’ve got to open it. Hell, I’ll open it if you want.”
I indicated the gym. “Did you have a good work out?”
“Yes—now open the damn envelope!”
With a sigh of resignation, I tore open the flap and reached inside. There were two pages. I unfolded them and began reading. My mouth fell open as I did so.
“What is it?” Susan asked, watching me closely. “What’s it say?”
“It’s a full confession.” I swallowed hard. “Chuck admitted to killing Dixie.”
“You already knew he did.”
“I guess I didn’t want to believe it.” I flipped to the second page and found a map that provided the location of the murder weapon. Susan was looking over my shoulder.
“I guess you don’t have an unsolved murder on your record anymore.”
I nodded idly. “Yeah, I just wish we could start preventing more of them.”
“You did save Gloria,” Susan offered.
“Nah, I just added to the problem by getting taken.” I glanced at her. “I was strapped naked and helpless to a table, as you might recall.”
She grinned and the dimple in her chin deepened. There was a devilish glint in her eyes. “If I ever find you like that again, I might take advantage of you…and you might not survive.”
“That’d be better than being eaten,” I said wryly.
Susan and I laughed and we each grabbed one of Grace’s hands and made our way to the house. I glanced down at Grace and could see her taking the bus at five, starting middle school at eleven, graduating at seventeen, getting married at twenty-three—and I was there for all of it.
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NOVELS BY BJ BOURG
Clint Wolf Mysteries
But Not Forgotten
But Not Forgiven
But Not Forsaken
But Not Forever
But Not For Naught
But Not Forbidden
But Not Forlorn
But Not Formidable
But Not For Love
But Not Forborne
But Not Forewarned
But Not Foreboding
Magnolia Parish Mysteries
Hollow Crib
Hollow Bond
London Carter Mysteries
James 516
Proving Grounds
Silent Trigger
Bullet Drop
Elevation
Blood Rise
Stand-Alone YA Mystery
The Seventh Taking
About the Author
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BJ Bourg is an award-winning mystery writer and former professional boxer who hails from the swamps of Louisiana. Dubbed the "real deal" by other mystery writers, he has spent his entire adult life solving crimes as a patrol cop, detective sergeant, and chief investigator for a district attorney's office. Not only does he know his way around crime scenes, interrogations, and courtrooms, but he also served as a police sniper commander (earning the title of "Top Shooter" at an FBI sniper school) and a police academy instructor.
BJ is a four-time traditionally-published novelist and his debut novel, JAMES 516, won the 2016 EPIC eBook Award for Best Mystery. Dozens of his articles and stories have been published in national magazines such as Woman's World, Boys' Life, and Writer's Digest. He is a regular contributor to two of the nation's leading law enforcement magazines, Law and Order and Tactical Response, and he has taught at conferences for law enforcement officers, tactical police officers, and writers. Above all else, he is a father and husband, and the highlight of his life is spending time with his beautiful wife and wonderful children.
http://www.bjbourg.com