Not One of Us

by Debbie Herbert

I blinked at him in surprise. Drug smuggling? I’d had no suspicion my uncle was involved in that. “What about Louis Cormier?” I asked. “Was he in on this too?”

  “Mr. Nice and Clean? Hell, no.”

  I glanced out the window where Cash paced by his truck. How much longer did I have before they permanently silenced me? The longer I kept the conversation going, the more time it bought me to try to figure out an angle to save myself. “I’m confused,” I said quickly. “Why did you kill the Cormiers?”

  “Ray started demanding more money. He upped his game, hinted that he had more dirt on me besides the drugs. I called his bluff and cut him off. Ray was furious. He called me from prison to say he’d hired Louis to look into Jackson’s adoption and he’d soon have proof that I’d stolen a baby for money.” Uncle Buddy snorted in derision. “Stupid bastard never guessed that I’m the one who killed Jackson and set him up for the crime.”

  My pain and fear momentarily subsided as I absorbed his calm confession. I’d guessed he’d done it, but to hear him say it aloud still shocked me. “You killed your own nephew,” I whispered.

  Chapter 34

  TEGAN

  I opened the text from Jori, heart drumming with excitement and full of optimism after the successful drug bust. Really, it was greedy of me to want more. How incredible if Jori could identify the voice on the recorder and solve an old mystery.

  It’s Buddy. Help.

  Buddy Munford? Her uncle? I stared at the screen in stunned disbelief. Was she in danger? Surely she hadn’t been so foolish as to confront her uncle with the truth. The text had been sent at 11:27 a.m., nearly forty minutes ago. I started to hit the dial button, then stopped. What if her uncle had the phone? Calling might place Jori in even more danger. Best to track her location. Oliver stood nearby talking to a few cops from Mobile. I caught his eye and signaled him over.

  Quickly, I identified Jori’s phone carrier and called the company, identifying myself as a law enforcement officer and that I needed the current location of that phone ASAP for an emergency. In training, I’d learned that the phone company could immediately identify a phone location based on tower triangulation, but until today I’d never had occasion to test that fact. I was relieved when seconds later they informed me where the phone, and hopefully Jori, was at this very moment. By the time I disconnected the call, Oliver was at my side.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “We have to get to Jori Trahern right now. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  I raced to my unmarked car, and he ran alongside me. Inside the vehicle I hit the accelerator, and we sped out. I estimated it would only take five minutes to get to the location. If only I’d opened the text sooner . . . no, I could self-recriminate later. Right now, I had to focus on what might lie ahead. If I hadn’t provided Jori that recording, she wouldn’t be in danger. I should have waited to let her hear it in my presence and then gone after her uncle once she’d identified his voice. I filled Oliver in as I drove. I expected an explosion of anger when I told him I let Jori listen to the old recording, but he took it in stride. I might catch hell later, but that would have to wait too. Nothing Oliver could say to me would make me feel worse than the guilt now eating at me.

  I gripped the steering wheel tightly, the road almost seeming to rush up to meet me, as Oliver radioed for backup and asked who owned the property located at 8859 Shadow Wood Road.

  Seconds later, we had our answer. Buddy Munford. Jori was with a killer, and she’d texted me for help. Chills slithered up and down my back.

  Chapter 35

  JORI

  I gaped at Uncle Buddy, astonished at his callous nonchalance. He was determined to put his own spin on the murder of his nephew.

  “Had to. Jackson was hitting me up for money. He’d intimidated Tressie into admitting that I’d illegally taken a baby from a drug addict. I mean, come on! Jackson should have thanked me for delivering him into a family that loved him. Ardy had the money to spare—his business was going well. Tressie just told Ardy that the fifty-thousand payment went for legal fees and court costs. To be honest, her husband didn’t look too close at what was happening. It was a win-win all around.”

  I’d been right. Everything had stemmed from there. The drug smuggling he’d mentioned wasn’t the real issue. The baby stealing was at the core of the matter.

  “Tressie paid you for a baby. There was no adoption and no official papers. And you were the middleman between her and Grace. Does Tressie know you killed Jackson?”

  “Hell, no,” he chuckled. “Tressie was always a little tiger, even as a kid. If she thought I’d killed her precious son, she’d have either killed me or told the cops.”

  That fit into what I now knew about my aunt. She was an outrageous liar and manipulator, but it didn’t go further than that.

  “Like I said, it served us all well,” Uncle Buddy continued. “I got the seed money to start my business, Tressie got the baby she desperately wanted, and Grace got the means to fund her drug habit. You should have stayed out of it. I tried to warn you,” he said, shaking his head sadly, as though I’d disappointed him. “But you had to keep going and talking to everyone.”

  I scanned the cabin, searching for another subject to distract him and get him talking longer. “Is this where you kept Zach when you took him?”

  He shrugged. “No. It was a different cabin.”

  I began to tremble. Thank God he hadn’t hurt my brother. He’d killed one nephew, so he certainly would have no compunction killing another.

  “You still couldn’t keep from snooping, could you? Had to go and talk to Ardy. That stupid sucker. Tressie always could bend him to her will.”

  My mind raced ahead. “You must have killed Strickland too. Was that really necessary?”

  “Of course. He put the screws on me when he was paroled, threatening to hire another investigator or attorney over Jackson’s illegal adoption. I’d already had to kill one lawyer over the matter.”

  “I still don’t get it. Why kill Louis Cormier?”

  “Guy was a jerk. So smug and self-righteous when I confronted him in his backyard.” Uncle Buddy smiled with grim satisfaction. “He wasn’t so smug when I pulled my gun. He told me right quick where he kept his investigation notes on Jackson’s adoption.”

  “And Deacon and his mom?” I asked softly, my throat constricting with pain. “Why did you kill them?”

  “That’s Cash’s fault. Not mine. Cash told me Louis was working in his backyard and that his family had gone shopping in Mobile. So I paid him a visit.”

  Uncle Buddy’s face grew red with anger. “Louis refused to drop Strickland’s case at first. Not only that, but he had that knowing look in his eyes. He was running against me for a county commissioner opening. The bastard would have ruined me and taken my power.”

  His anger suddenly spent, Uncle Buddy sank onto the sofa opposite me. “I couldn’t have that,” he said, his voice again casual. “So I shot him. Then, unbelievably, I heard a scream from inside the house. So I had to take care of them too.”

  Take care of them too. His words were like bullets ricocheting in my mind. If only Deacon and his mom hadn’t been home. If only they’d spent another hour out shopping.

  “You bastard,” I said with a hiss, too angry to hold it in. “You damn bastard.”

  “And now you’re a problem,” he said calmly.

  “If you kill me, they’ll know it’s you.”

  He smiled. A chilling, eerie smile that frightened me more than anything else had this day. He picked up my phone. “Noscam8871,” he mumbled, then swiped the screen and began tapping the keyboard.

  My heart jackhammered, and my breath grew shallow. “What are you doing?”

  Uncle Buddy tapped a few more seconds, then read from the screen.

  Hey Tegan. Sorry for the earlier message. It was Cash’s voice on the recording. I’m off to confront him. Later!

  He shut off the phone. “I’ll toss this thing in the swamp
on my way home. I’ll give Cash his orders to dig a hole out here for your body. By the time the cops arrive, I’ll be long gone, and Cash will be caught red-handed. Of course, I’ll deny any involvement. Who are they going to believe—me, or a guy with a bit of a shady past?”

  Uncle Buddy pulled a gun from the back waistband of his pants and aimed it dead at me.

  My time had run out.

  “Please don’t shoot.” I closed my eyes, thought of my family. What would become of them? “Think of Mimi and Zach.” I opened my eyes and pleaded in a last-ditch effort to appeal to his mercy. “There’s no one left to take care of them if I die.”

  The deadly determination in his eyes didn’t flicker. His mind was made up.

  I screamed, even knowing it was useless. There was no one to hear me but Cash.

  This was it, then. No escape.

  Chapter 36

  TEGAN

  “Here we go.” Oliver held up his phone screen showing a Google Earth map of Buddy Munford’s property. A small cabin sat only twelve feet from the road. I pictured Jori in there, held hostage. Or was she still alive? I steeled myself, preparing for the worst.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked. “We have to assume this is a kidnapping, right?”

  “Correct. When we get within two hundred yards of the place, we’ll pull over to the side of the road and approach by foot. I’ve warned backup not to arrive with sirens blaring.”

  He faced me. “Be prepared to take whatever force needed. I’ll take the lead, and you follow my instructions. Don’t rush in and risk someone being shot. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  He scanned the road and checked our coordinates. “Slow down. We’re close.”

  I let my foot off the gas.

  “Here. Pull over.”

  I stopped the car on the side of the road, and we exited the vehicles, shutting the doors quietly. Oliver withdrew his gun from his holster and nodded at me to do the same.

  Silently, I pulled out my gun and gripped it securely, its weight comforting. We walked quickly toward the cabin, keeping close to the trees. Suddenly, Oliver held out an arm, then put a finger to his mouth. Peering around him, I spotted Cash Johnson outside, pacing near his truck and smoking a cigarette. His movements were jerky, and he kept running a hand through his hair as though agitated. By his side, a gun dangled in his right hand. We were close enough to be in range of bullets. Oliver motioned for me to stay in place while he crept closer.

  For his size and weight, Oliver moved with amazing stealth. But with every small twig that snapped beneath his shoes, I feared for his life. Despite Oliver’s prowess, Cash swept his gaze along the tree line, squinting and tense as a frightened deer. As an experienced hunter, he was no doubt alert to every tiny noise emerging from the woods.

  Oliver took a few more cautious steps forward when the unexpected broke loose. A flock of swamp sparrows screeched in a treetop above Oliver, their wings flapping madly, rustling leaves and limbs in their haste to flee from human intruders. Cash raised his right arm, his gun gleaming silver in the sunlight. He stared straight at Oliver.

  “Drop your weapon!” Oliver commanded.

  Cash raised his left hand to support and steady the gun in his right hand and squinted, adjusting the weapon’s sights. I could hardly breathe. Blood pounded through my ears, loud as the gulf’s current. I raised my own gun, ready to shoot.

  The crack of gunfire exploded in the remote bayou air. Time slowed to the pace of molasses. My breath was deep and heavy as I struggled to gulp oxygen. I caught the splay of sunshine on the sandy soil, the roar of the Atlantic from nearby, an unnatural metallic scent intruding in the salty air. Oliver still stood. Cash did not. He crumpled to the ground, bleeding.

  A single scream erupted from the cabin, breaking my momentary stupor.

  “Let’s go!” Oliver commanded.

  I raced past him, determined to get to Jori. At the small front window I faced the worst-case scenario I’d envisioned on the drive over. Jori was seated in a chair, her hands bound behind her back. Buddy Munford turned toward me, his eyes widening. In his hands, he held a gun.

  Chapter 37

  JORI

  An explosion of gunfire filled the cabin.

  “The hell?” Uncle Buddy half turned toward the front window.

  A crimson stain mushroomed from Cash’s shoulder, and he fell onto the dirt. What was happening? Was there a third person involved in this dirty business? Deputy Blackwell stepped into view, her gun raised as she faced the window.

  Tegan had found me. She or her partner must have shot Cash. I spared no pity for the man who seemed to delight in partnering with my uncle’s depraved killings. Would Uncle Buddy still shoot me now that she’d arrived? I was still far from being out of danger. My body responded faster than my brain as it grappled with everything going down around me. I instinctually dropped to the floor, providing Tegan a clear shot.

  Another gunshot exploded, and I screamed. Shards of glass rained down on me. Who had fired first and was still alive—Uncle Buddy or Tegan? Please God, let it be Tegan. Images paraded through my mind in quick succession—Deacon, Clotille, Louis, Raymond. I even pictured Jackson as a young child, which I remembered from an old photograph particularly beloved by Aunt Tressie. Was I going to be the next to die? Heavy thuds pounded on the front door, and then it burst open, banging against the wall. Tegan and Lieutenant Oliver entered, guns drawn. They were alive. I was alive. Then that meant my uncle had either been shot or had run away.

  “Jori? Are you okay?”

  I struggled to a seated position and tried to find my uncle. What had been Uncle Buddy’s head was mostly splattered across the opposite wall. Bile rose in my throat. I opened my mouth to answer Tegan but couldn’t speak. She was by my side in an instant, flinging an arm across my shoulders. “Thank God. You’re alive. How bad are you hurt?”

  “H-how did you find me?”

  A two-way radio crackled in the air, and deep, disembodied voices filled the tiny room as Lieutenant Oliver barked out orders.

  “We tracked you from your first text,” she explained. “Then followed you from a distance. Let me untie your hands.”

  Sirens sounded, growing closer by the second. I nodded, barely registering the chaos around me, still stunned that I wasn’t the one shot. I kept my face averted from what was left of my uncle.

  “Let’s get out of here. Can you walk?” Tegan helped me stand and stumble toward the open doorway.

  “Don’t look back,” she warned. She needn’t have worried. I had no intention of doing so. Lieutenant Oliver came to my other side and put his strong arm around me as well. Together, all three of us walked out of the cabin with its blood-smeared walls and into the sunlight and fresh air that smelled of ocean.

  Alive.

  Tegan guided me toward their vehicle. Now that the danger had passed, the remote cabin—which had seemed an impenetrable death trap minutes ago—was a buzz of activity. Radios crackled, and sirens blared, announcing the swift arrival of more cops. My entire body trembled as though ice coursed through my veins.

  “Thank you.” My voice was choked and broken, but I needed to talk. “They were going to kill me. Just like they killed my cousin, the Cormiers, and Raymond Strickland.”

  Lieutenant Oliver gave a low whistle. “Munford and Johnson were responsible for all those murders? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. My uncle confessed to everything.”

  Lieutenant Oliver nodded. “We’ll get all the details at the office. Unless you need to go home first?”

  I shook my head, wanting nothing more than to give my statement before heading home. “Let’s get it over with. While everything’s still fresh in my memory.”

  As though I would ever forget a word that had been spoken. Still, I wanted to talk it out with them.

  Tegan draped an arm over my shoulders. Its weight was solid, comforting. “It’s you we should be thanking. You’re the one who solved these crimes.”


  So many deaths. So many ruined lives. At least now Zach, Mimi, and I were safe.

  Or . . . were we? I hadn’t told the cops everything yet. Maybe I never would.

  Chapter 38

  DEACON CORMIER

  May 19, 2006

  Having Mom record me with the prom corsage was so lame. Actually, the whole prom scene was lame, but if Jori wanted to go, then I’d make her happy. Last week, she and Mom had spent an afternoon shopping in Mobile for her prom dress. Mom had tried to pay for the dress, but Jori had insisted on using part of her savings from working at Winn-Dixie to buy it herself.

  “Smile, Deacon,” Mom urged as she pointed the camcorder at me. “Hold up the corsage too.”

  Dutifully, I held up the posy of coral and white roses mixed with clusters of baby’s breath. The sooner she finished filming, the sooner I could get out of this uncomfortable rented tux. Me? I’d much rather dance at the Pavilion in jeans and a T-shirt than get gussied up in stiff clothes to dance in a high school cafeteria. No amount of ribbons, balloons, and other fanfare decorating the room could disguise its true function. But no one had asked my opinion. So the prom it was.

  “Louis?” Mom shouted over her shoulder. “Come down here and see your son all decked out.”

  Dad was here somewhere, because his car was in the driveway.

  But the house remained deadly quiet.

  “Must be in the shower,” I offered.

  She paused, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t hear the water running. Stay here while I go up and—”

  A shot rang out from the backyard.

  Mom and I stared at one another. Her eyes held shock, quickly followed by confusion, then rapidly shifted to fear, mirroring my own progression of emotions.

  She screamed Dad’s name, and the recorder dropped from her hands.

  The back door by the kitchen was yanked open, and a man—not my Dad—walked into the room, a gun by his side. Mom’s back was to him, and I stared into familiar eyes that held none of their usual frankness. A chill raked through me from head to toe. Something was very, very wrong. Where was Dad?