FBI Agent Jade Monroe: Live or Die 01-Blood in the Bayou

by Sutter, C M

  “So you served the same area all night.”

  “Yeah, mostly.”

  Renz cracked his knuckles then pocketed his hands. “Do you remember your conversation with those women?”

  “Of course not. Unless they’re somebody I know, the standard conversation is to ask how they’re doing, what they want to drink, and if they need a refill. I don’t have time, especially on a busy night, to start up long-winded conversations with anyone.”

  We hadn’t watched all of the footage yet, and the only thing I knew about a man taking Sheila’s seat when she left was because she’d told us. I wanted to know what Chad remembered about that. “How about when the woman left and a guy took her place? What did he drink, and was he just sitting there, or did he strike up a conversation with the girl in the flowered top? Can you describe him?”

  Chad swatted away my question. “Hell no, I can’t describe him. The bar is dark, and there were a good hundred people inside. They came and went. I remember what people order more than I remember the people themselves, though.”

  The same kind of thing happened to me more times than I cared to admit. I remembered names, addresses, and how people were killed easier than I remembered a friend’s birthday.

  “Oh yeah, now I remember. The guy ordered a bunch of shots for the lady. I assumed he knew her and maybe it was her birthday or some cause for celebration.”

  “She let a complete stranger buy her shots?”

  “Like I said, I figured they knew each other. He kept buying her girly shots.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Flavored schnapps if I remember correctly. Peach and apple, I think, but she was half in the bag before he sat down. It was obvious she didn’t need more alcohol.”

  Renz took over. “Why didn’t you cut her off, then?”

  Chad laughed. “You definitely aren’t locals. We don’t do shit like that here, and once again, I assumed they knew each other and the man was there to be her designated driver.”

  “What were the ladies drinking for those two hours they were together?”

  “The drink I hate more than any other.”

  I raised a curious brow. “Really? And what was that?”

  He cursed. “The gin fizz, and they’re a big pain in the ass. You have to shake it forever, and both women were drinking them.”

  A gin fizz sounded delicious, but we were on duty, and I wasn’t about to press my luck with Chad, anyway. “Do you remember how the ladies and the man settled their bills?”

  “Cash. On both parts.”

  I was disappointed but knew a killer—if the man in the bar actually was the killer—would never use a credit card unless it was stolen, and that wouldn’t help us.

  “Okay, and finally, did the man and woman stay until closing?”

  “Nope. I took my last break from one forty-five until two, and when I returned, they were both gone, and other people were sitting in their places.”

  “So you have no idea if they left together?”

  “No, but it’s most likely on that footage.”

  We thanked Chad for his help and left. I was excited to see the footage around the one o’clock hour, and hopefully, we would get a decent shot of the mystery man as he walked out of Bubba Mike’s. It was time to head to the sheriff’s office, put the stick into my computer, and watch how Sunday night played out.

  Chapter 20

  Robby wondered what the agents had learned during their hour-long visit in Bubba Mike’s bar. There had to be a reason they were in there that long.

  Hmm… the only way to learn anything is by going inside and striking up a conversation with an employee and see if they’ll tell me anything of value.

  Robby looked left and saw the Explorer disappear down the street. He turned in and parked in Bubba Mike’s lot. He knew he was taking a risk by going inside, but he needed to know everything the agents knew so he could stay one step ahead of them.

  He pulled open the creaky door and entered the dark space. The ball cap, strategically lowered at eyebrow height, would make identifying him difficult. He cozied up to the bar and jerked his chin at the woman who glanced his way.

  The redhead strolled over. “What can I do ya for, honey?”

  “A tap beer sounds good.”

  “You got it, sugar.”

  “What was that about?” Robby pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Got some lost officials needing directions?”

  She laughed. “You saw them?”

  “Couldn’t miss them, but they sure as hell don’t belong in these parts. I was getting out of my truck when they walked out.”

  The woman nodded. “Feds, I guess. Come in here all important and shit. Wanted to know about a girl that went missing. They said she was in here on Sunday night and wanted to see my camera footage.”

  Robby laughed as if it didn’t strike a nerve. “Well, they better have showed you a warrant.”

  “Nope.” She lit a cigarette and took a long pull, making the end glow orange. She shook the pack, and another slid out. She offered it to Robby.

  “Don’t mind if I do. So, no warrant? How do they pull that off?”

  “Made some crack about shutting the place down because of code violations if I didn’t cooperate.”

  Robby smirked. “Smart asses think they’re hot shit. Bet they stuck their badges in your face too.”

  “Yep, sure did. Had to end up letting them watch the footage, and then they went ahead and put the entire night on a stick. Guess they wanted to watch it in a more sanitized place.” Her voice cracked when she laughed. “That bitch agent really thought she was something, putting out those kinds of threats. We don’t take kindly to intimidation tactics.”

  “No, ma’am, we don’t. If she doesn’t watch herself, she may end up being gator bait.” He laughed loudly, and the woman joined in.

  Robby guzzled his beer. “How about another one?”

  “You got it, honey, and this one’s on the house.”

  Robby stayed for that last beer then left. He needed to drive past the sheriff’s office to see if the Explorer was there. That would tell him the likelihood of the agents being inside and watching all of Sunday night’s footage.

  Chapter 21

  “Can you slow down a bit?” Renz laughed at my enthusiastic pace as I walked to our makeshift office. My laptop was all I needed, and since we knew the general time frame we were looking for, I could set the start time for 1:35 in the morning and go from there. The only thing I cared about was seeing the man’s face as he walked out of Bubba Mike’s and if he left alone or with Carla. It still wouldn’t tell us if he’d abducted her since he could have walked out alone, waited in the shadows for a few minutes, especially if she’d called a rideshare, and then sprung on her and dragged her to his vehicle. After talking to Chad, I doubted that she was even capable of coherently calling for a car, but the killer could have viewed her condition as an opportunity. There was a good chance that he initiated that opportunity by getting her too drunk to turn down his offer of driving her home.

  I planned to watch that most important part first, gather what information I could, then review the entire video from the moment Sheila and Carla arrived until the moment Carla left the building.

  I jammed the stick into the side of my laptop, opened the video, forwarded the scrubber bar until the time stamp showed 1:35, then patted the chair next to mine.

  “Sit down and watch this with me. Two sets of eyes are better than one. I figure by starting the footage ten to fifteen minutes early, we’ll see if Carla even got out her phone to call for a ride.”

  “Good idea.” Renz settled in on my right side and gave me a nod. “Go ahead and roll it.”

  I clicked on the forward arrow and sat within a foot of the screen. Because of the small viewing area and the grainy footage from the bar’s dark interior, we had to watch closely. Every minute, I glanced at the time. Finally, I pointed at Chad, who had wiped his hands on a bar rag then walked out of t
he camera’s frame.

  “Looks like he’s going on his break.”

  “And I haven’t seen Carla take her phone out of her purse at all.”

  I shook my head. “Look how she’s swaying back and forth. She’s absolutely wasted. I need to see a straight-on shot of that guy’s face since a side view of him wearing a ball cap doesn’t help.”

  “It sure doesn’t, and if he is the perp, you know damn well wearing the ball cap was a deliberate act,” Renz said. “Sunglasses are the second-best way to hide in plain sight.”

  I sighed. “True, but at night, that’s just stupid and would attract unwanted attention. Plus, as dark as that bar was inside, he’d be walking in blind.” I checked the time again—1:53 a.m. “What’s the holdup?”

  Jabbing the air, Renz pointed. “No holdup. Here we go.”

  We watched as Carla tried to stand. She nearly tipped over her barstool when she put too much weight against it. The man got up, hooked his arm around her waist, grabbed her purse, and walked her toward the exit.

  “Here they come.” My finger hovered above the pause symbol.

  “Give it a few more seconds. I want their faces as close as possible to the camera before they go off screen.”

  I waited.

  “Okay, now.” Renz leaned in. “Damn it. Carla is framed perfectly, but the brim on that guy’s hat is blocking his face. Back it up a smidge.”

  I did as Renz suggested, but it didn’t help. It was obvious that the man deliberately kept his head down. He knew full well where the camera was located.

  I slapped the table. “Damn him. What does he have to hide unless he’s the killer?”

  “And notice that his ball cap is black with no logo on it whatsoever. I imagine you can find those anywhere in the United States, and there isn’t a single thing that makes it stand out.”

  I sucked in a slow breath. “Okay, what can we glean from what we have?” I pulled a notebook and a pen from my briefcase. “He has his own vehicle and must have known Carla didn’t.”

  “She probably told him that when Sheila walked out. A stroke of luck for him since there wouldn’t be a car left behind and nobody would actually know if Carla disappeared that night or sometime yesterday.”

  “He has a certain amount of disposable cash since those flavored schnapps shots probably cost three bucks apiece,” I added.

  “Meaning he likely has a job.” Renz frowned. “But would he stay out that late on a Sunday night if he had to work on Monday?”

  I shrugged. “Could be a second-shifter or had vacation time, or maybe he planned to call in sick on Monday if he was successful in abducting someone.”

  “I think we’re on the right track. So what else?”

  I rubbed my chin as I thought. “He stood taller than Carla, but with his arm around her waist and supporting her, he still wasn’t fully upright. I couldn’t tell anything about his hair. Couldn’t see what he was drinking either and Chad never actually answered that question. He only told us what the guy bought for Carla to drink.”

  “Yeah, we’ll have to contact Chad again.”

  “The man looked to be of average weight—not heavy or scrawny. Couldn’t tell anything of an age to go by since we never saw his face.”

  Renz huffed. “And we don’t have a description to put out to the public either.”

  I chuckled. “Like the people in these parts are going to help us?” I cocked my head toward the door. “Let’s have a talk with Conway. I’m sure everyone knows everyone else around here. There must be a few people who get arrested on a regular basis, and maybe the killer is one of them.”

  Renz disagreed. “I don’t think that’s the kind of person we’re looking for, Jade. Acts as disturbing as what we’re seeing are done by somebody who doesn’t want to be found. He’s under the radar”—Renz looked out the window—“maybe in the swamps. I’m guessing he’s like the nondescript neighbor who ends up murdering twenty people right under everyone’s noses.”

  His comment gave me goose bumps. “So where is he, and how do we find him?”

  Renz leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Who knows? Maybe he’s already found us.”

  Chapter 22

  We had to enlist the help of everyone that Conway could spare from the sheriff’s office. We had three other camera angles to review, and with any luck, we would see the face of the man who had spent those last crucial hours with Carla.

  Trying to track Carla’s cell phone went nowhere. It had likely been turned off Sunday night and was lying at the bottom of a bayou.

  Conway called in two other deputies to help. It wasn’t much, but we’d take whatever help we could get. Together, we sat in their conference room and talked.

  Renz went over what we had—which wasn’t a lot.

  “We don’t know if the man we’re checking into is the same person who’s dumping the bones, but it would make sense to either drug the victim or, in Carla’s case, get her too drunk to resist him. He takes that person back to wherever he lives and does the unthinkable to them. In my opinion, he scouts out his victims. He looks for people who are alone and don’t have a car. Tracking down that person’s last actions is nearly impossible when their car isn’t left behind. That way, nobody knows where or when they were abducted. He disables them and disables their phone or just turns it off and tosses it away. After that, he has free rein to do whatever he likes with his victim.”

  I took my turn. “He most likely lives alone, and it would be a place where there’s enough land and privacy that no amount of yelling would be heard—unless he kills his victim before he takes them home. Either way, he still needs that privacy to butcher and dismember a human body. That takes time.”

  Deputy Stillman spoke up. “Why on earth is he doing that at all? If he’s just a killer, then kill them and dump the whole body. Why are we only finding the bones with a small amount of tissue left on them? What happened to the muscle and organs?”

  I grimaced at the direction our conversation was going, but it had to be addressed. “The individual who’s committing these acts might be mentally disturbed.”

  Conway frowned. “And?”

  “And he’s either eating the victims himself, or he’s feeding them to someone or something else.” I glanced at the deputies and Conway and was sure I saw their faces go green.

  Polsen coughed into his fist. “People really do that?”

  “Well, yes, unfortunately, some do, and it could be for a number of reasons. Like I said before, he may be mentally disturbed or—”

  Stillman cut in. “Or what?”

  Renz answered that question. “Or maybe he just wants to.”

  I went back to the profile we were putting together before everyone got lost in the image of cannibalism. “He doesn’t have a significant other unless they’re subservient to him out of fear or they’re on board with the murders. Like I said before, he lives somewhere remote where he can kill and dismember without the worry of being seen or heard.”

  Conway scratched his cheek. “That covers a hell of a lot of area in Louisiana.”

  I nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right. We assume he comes into Houma to find his victims, meaning he probably lives within a twenty-mile radius of here. He knows the area. He has the confidence or charisma to approach his victims, and he gives the impression of kindness and trustworthiness, so he has to look relatively normal.”

  “He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Renz said.

  I continued. “His ruse is to help the victims in their time of need. He finds someone who is lost, can’t afford a rideshare, is drunk or high, and is definitely alone.”

  “And then he disables them and goes from there.”

  I nodded at Stillman. “Exactly.”

  Renz went on. “We haven’t caught a glimpse of his face yet, so we don’t have an age to put out there, but we still have to finish watching all the footage. He’s of average height—probably under six foot, though—and average weight, one
eighty or so. He must have a job. Second shift, we’d assume since he was out late Sunday night. Or he could have taken vacation time or is collecting unemployment. We just don’t know yet. We do know that he can afford to go to the bar, buy a young lady a half dozen shots, as well as drinks for himself, and he has a vehicle.”

  I looked at Conway. “Does anyone around here ring a bell?”

  “Sorry, but no, and if he does live out in the swamps, I wouldn’t know him. I’m familiar with the in-town troublemakers, and maybe even as far as five miles out, but on a first-name basis, not any farther than that.”

  “How about hunters?” Renz asked. “Those two who found the latest remains said the work looked like that of a hunter. Any hunting violations lately?”

  Conway looked at the deputies. “Check into that, but nothing comes to mind.”

  Polsen spoke up. “The hunters in these parts all have dogs—packs of them. Those dogs need plenty of room, so most folks live out of town on acreage.”

  “Those remains were found how far out of town again?” Renz asked.

  “Around ten miles,” Stillman said.

  “Right. So the chances of you knowing people farther out are slim?”

  “Yep, unless we’ve been called out for a disturbance.”

  “Okay, how about pulling those cases for the last year while we continue looking at the footage?”

  Conway stood. “You bet, and we’ll let you know when we have that done.” He tipped his head toward the door, and the deputies walked out. Conway turned back before closing the door. “Oh, and by the way, Hal called earlier.”

  I had to think about who Hal was, and Renz spoke up.

  “Did Forensics get some news?”

  “Yep. The latest dump site results showed that the bones belonged to two individuals—both females. They compared the femurs to the bones that were found last week. They’ve concluded that the first site contained male bones.”

  “And Forensics is comparing the DNA on those bones to the toothbrush belonging to Jadon Fish, right?”

  “Yep, they’re doing that as we speak.”