by BJ Bourg
“I guess a little of both, maybe. It looked like she might’ve wanted some clothes and I was going to help her, but that’s when she disappeared. And then someone saw some alligators and everyone got out of the water. I didn’t know what to do. I just…I just started driving back and forth, screaming her name. I did that forever. But she never came back up. Well, at first I drove toward the alligators and scared them off. I don’t know what happened. She’s a strong swimmer. She swam for our high school team when she was a freshman. She was pretty good.”
“What time did Camille go under?”
“Um, it was about three o’clock this afternoon. I was the only one looking for her. No one would help me. They just went back to drinking and dancing.”
I cocked my head to the side. “How many people are out there on the lake?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe fifty of us? Not all from our school, but they were all from Texas.”
“And none of them left the party?”
He shook his head. “They refused to leave. They said they’ve got one more day of vacation and they won’t let anyone spoil it. They said there was nothing they could do about it anyway and that it was her own fault for going in the water.”
I grunted and then indicated the phone in his hand. “Did you call Camille’s parents?”
He shook his head. “Oh, no! I wouldn’t know what to tell them.”
“Do you have their number?”
“No, but my mom does.”
“Get it from your mom and give it to Chief Susan Wilson.” I shot a thumb over my shoulder toward the headlights that were approaching. “She’ll be in one of those vehicles.”
He nodded.
“And don’t go back on that water, understand?”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He trembled. “I’m never going back out there. Ever.”
CHAPTER 4
August in Louisiana was usually hot, but this one was almost unbearable. We’d just come off of a particularly hot July, and summer didn’t seem to be slowing down at all. With nighttime came a slight drop in temperature, but the water was still hot and it would accelerate the decomposition process. If we didn’t find Camille tonight or tomorrow, her body would surely rise to the surface within a couple of days—that is, if she had, indeed, drowned. While the chances of us finding her alive were next to nothing—thanks to the information we’d obtained from Otis—I was certainly rooting for the girl.
Water sprayed my face every now and then as the boat sliced through the bayou. I welcomed it and didn’t even wipe away the moisture. Once we reached Lake Berg, we headed south, picking up speed on the wide open water. There was a waning moon in the sky and it offered no help in the way of illumination. Thankfully, we had powerful floodlights onboard the Boston Whaler and they guided the way beautifully.
We hadn’t traveled halfway across Lake Berg when I saw a light approaching from the west. It was a tiny dot in the distance, but it seemed to be moving at a good clip. I tapped Melvin’s shoulder and pointed.
He pulled up on the throttle and the boat slowed to a stop, forcing me to rock forward onto the balls of my feet. He reached for a pair of binoculars and put them to his eyes.
“It’s a small boat,” he said. “It seems to be heading straight for us and it’s coming fast.”
I walked to the front of the boat where I’d stashed my gear. I grabbed my rifle bag and removed my AR-10. I didn’t know who was approaching us and I didn’t know what they wanted, but I was going to be prepared for anything.
Slinging the rifle over my neck, I moved to the starboard side and rested my knee on the gunwale.
“Can you see anything?” I asked.
Melvin had zeroed in on the approaching vessel with one of the spotlights and was still peering through his binoculars. “It appears to be a small fishing boat. Wooden hull. Maybe two occupants. They look harmless.”
I nodded and kept watching. They came to within a hundred feet of us. At that point, the front of the vessel dipped suddenly as the captain pulled back on the throttle. They slowed rapidly and he steered around so his boat would butt up beside us. I could see that the driver was a man about my age and there was a young boy with him. The young boy couldn’t have been more than twelve. He was seated on the bench seat beside the man and he was staring straight ahead. His face was pale. I glanced at the captain of the boat. His expression was a somber one.
“Oh, thank God you’re cops!” the pilot said when he saw the logo on the side of the boat. “We found something in the water on the southwest corner of the lake. It looks like a body.”
Melvin and I traded glances.
“Is it a young girl?” I asked.
He removed his cap and rubbed his sweaty forehead. “I…I couldn’t be sure. It looked swollen.” He glanced at the young boy. “When we first saw it, we thought it might be a bloated animal, but then we got close and realized it was a human body.”
“Melvin, do you think it’s possible for a body to get from Le Diable Lake to that corner of Lake Berg?”
“If the water current is right—maybe.”
Melvin addressed the man. “Can you take us directly to the spot where you found the body?”
The man turned to the young boy. “What about it, son?”
The boy gulped, but nodded bravely.
“Sure,” the man said. “It’s right where we run our trout lines.”
Without saying another word, the man maneuvered his boat around and sped off, with Melvin giving chase.
CHAPTER 5
As Melvin followed the man’s boat, I calculated the time, temperature, and rate of decomposition for a body that would’ve gone into the water five or six hours ago. The earliest I could remember seeing a drowning victim float to the surface was about two days. If the body that this man and boy had found was that of Camille Rainey, then it had performed an impossible feat. Her body would’ve floated to the surface in record time, drifted across Le Diable Lake, found the opening to the lake, traversed Bayou Tail, found the opening to Lake Berg, and then floated completely across the lake to the western side.
“This can’t be Camille.” I had to raise my voice so Melvin could hear me. “It’s got to be another body.”
“Unless she was dragged out here,” Melvin surmised. “I’ve seen an alligator at the western end of Lake Berg in the morning and then seen that same gator in Bayou Tail later that afternoon.” He paused and considered what he’d just said. “But I just don’t know why it would be dragging a human over that distance. Alligators typically attack small prey anyway—not full size humans.”
He was right. If this was not Camille, then it meant there were two victims out here on the water.
We had traveled for some time when the spotlight finally illuminated the opposite bank of the lake. The small boat slowed and so did Melvin. When we were beside the other boat, the man pointed toward the tree line.
“It’s under that weeping willow,” he said. “It looks like it got snagged on some underwater branches.”
I got the man’s name, address, and phone number, and thanked him for making the report. He seemed relieved that he didn’t have to hang around and abruptly left the area.
Melvin maneuvered the back of the Boston Whaler around so we could sidle up to the body from the starboard side. I angled the spotlight to illuminate the weeping willow. There, in the shadows of the overhanging limbs, I could see a shirtless body.
“Otis did say Camille had taken off her bikini top,” I muttered. “I guess it could be her.”
Melvin shut off the engine and used a push pole to ease us closer. When the tree limbs were within reach, I grabbed one and helped guide the boat closer.
“That should be good enough,” I said to Melvin. “We’re right on top of it.”
Melvin dropped the anchor and then joined me. A bare back was the only part of the body visible above the water. I retrieved my camera and a pair of latex gloves. After shooting a few pictures, I leane
d over the boat and reached for the body.
When I touched it, it bobbed a little and floated away from me. I lunged forward and reached for the arm. My hand closed around the clammy flesh and I was able to pull it closer to the boat. At this point, I could clearly see that it was not a female at all, but a young male.
Melvin spread a body bag across the deck and readied it to accept the body. He then leaned over the edge of the boat and reached for one of the legs. “Ready to bring it over?”
I nodded. “Slow and easy...”
With great care, we first pulled the body close to the hull and then eased it up onto the gunwale. Here, we balanced it while we shuffled back to make room to lower it onto the body bag. After giving a nod to let Melvin know I was ready, I hooked my hands under the slimy armpits while he latched onto the legs. Grunting, we lifted the body and then lowered it into the body bag.
I leaned back and took a breath, taking the time to study the body that lay before us. It was a young male, probably nineteen or twenty, dressed in board shorts and water shoes. There were numerous bite marks on his arms and legs, and even one on his torso, but they all seemed to have been made after he died. Due to the rate of decomposition, it appeared he had been in the water for about three days.
“I don’t remember receiving a report of a missing person,” I said, reaching for the pockets of the man’s shorts.
“I always check the pass-ons from the day shift when I get to work, and I haven’t seen one either,” Melvin said. “Maybe he’s not due back home yet, so that’s why he hasn’t been missed.”
That made sense. The front pockets were empty, but I felt something in the side pocket on the left leg. I unzipped the flap and removed a flat plastic carrier that contained some sort of document. Melvin shifted the light so I could read it. It was definitely a fishing license, but I wouldn’t be learning anything from it. The paper on which it was printed was thin and had been saturated by the water. When I tried to peel it apart, the paper tore.
I cursed. “This was a helpful experiment.”
We closed the body bag and I secured the plastic carrier in my crime scene box. I then removed my gloves and grabbed a red flag from my box. I tied the flag to the branch under which we’d removed the body. Thus, we could return later if we needed to search for more evidence.
“Let me have the spotlight,” I said to Melvin. When he handed it to me, I carefully surveyed the area, allowing the light to penetrate the darkness of the trees and underbrush. The ground in that area appeared untrodden. I couldn’t see anything that looked like evidence on the branches, in the water, or on the shore, so I asked Melvin to back the boat away.
When he did, I turned the light to the right and left, searching the banks as best I could from my vantage point. From the looks of the area, nothing significant had happened here. This was simply where his lifeless vessel had come to rest. I shut off the light and scowled, wondering from where had this man come.
“Clint, look to the east,” Melvin called, pointing in that direction. “It’s the cavalry. They’re heading for Le Diable.”
I turned and saw a line of bright lights blinking in and out of view in the distance, all of them heading south. I knew Susan would’ve stayed behind to run the command center, where she could ensure a controlled and orderly response. I grabbed Melvin’s satellite phone and called her cell.
“Susan, we’ve got a problem,” I said. “We found a body—and it’s not Camille Rainey.”
“Dear God, please tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I could.”
CHAPTER 6
Melvin got the angle on the line of racing boats and we caught up to them before they cut through the pass that led into Le Diable Lake. I noticed Amy was leading the charge in the department’s airboat and Takecia was with her.
Since Takecia was on the water with us, I figured Susan must’ve gotten Baylor Rice or Regan Steed to finish covering Melvin’s shift. While I loved working a small town, it had its limitations. We had a total of seven officers, and that included Susan and me. If there was a large scale riot in town, we’d have more than our hands full and we’d have to rely on the citizenry and the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office for support.
As it stood now, if we didn’t find Camille in a hurry, I’d be placing a call to Buck Turner, my friend and the sheriff of Chateau Parish. He was always willing to help when we needed him, and the favor was always returned.
Amy slowed to let Melvin slip into the lead, and then we continued the charge south. The stillness of the night was shattered by the noise from the engines of nearly a dozen boats. The sound alone made my adrenalin surge. This was the teamwork Susan had talked about in the meeting. All of these people—some of them total strangers—were coming together for a common good. I just hoped it would end well. It was too late for the poor fellow lying at our feet, but maybe we’d get lucky with Camille.
Before long, the pass that led to Le Diable Lake came into view and Melvin veered in that direction. I worked the spotlights as he drove, searching the surrounding water in case I would catch a glimpse of Camille’s body. We weren’t expecting her to be this far from where she’d disappeared, but we couldn’t take anything for granted.
Melvin slowed as we entered the waters of the lake and he lifted the mic for the loudspeaker. “Okay everyone, let’s fan out and do a grid search. We’ll line up to the right, beginning with me. If you see something, blast your horn.”
Melvin then began to hug the right bank of the lake and the other boats fanned out to his left, leaving a space of about twenty feet between each of the boats. Everyone backed off on their throttles and the boats sat down hard in the water. The waves from the neighboring boats rocked us gently and I settled in for a long night.
The lake was a large oblong body of water that stretched from north to south. We had entered from the northern pass, so we found ourselves facing south. On Melvin’s command, we began a slow and methodical search of the water, covering a sliver of the western portion of the lake. I took a spotlight and moved to the port side to search, while Melvin searched the starboard side.
It took over an hour to make our way to the middle of the lake and it was then that I heard a deep, rhythmic thumping sound. I looked off to the east. The lights from the neighboring boats blinded me somewhat, but I was able to see flashing lights in the distance beyond the last boat. It appeared to be coming from the banks of the lake. I realized instantly that the college kids were still partying.
I tapped Melvin on the shoulder and pointed to the party. “Can you take me there? I want to talk to those kids.”
Melvin nodded and got on his radio to let the other boaters know that Amy was now in charge. Cutting in front of our search party, the Boston Whaler sliced through the water, moving at a speed that pinned my hair back. As we got closer to the shore, the music became louder and the picture clearer. There were shirtless boys and topless girls dancing around a large fire. Several large speakers that hung from trees blared Kenny Chesney’s hit song Bar at the End of the World. I loved the song, but I was singularly focused at the moment.
Melvin pushed the Boston Whaler up against the bank and I launched myself into the air. My knees bent slightly to absorb the impact when I landed. No one seemed to notice I’d even arrived. I made my way toward the speakers and searched for the music source. I tripped on a couple who were embracing passionately on the ground beneath the speakers. I mumbled an apology and finally found an iPhone resting on a tree branch. I pressed the pause button and everything grew instantly quiet.
Several people voiced their objections, but then clamped their mouths shut when I hollered that I was with the Mechant Loup Police Department and I needed their attention.
“What’d we do wrong?” asked an inebriated boy who couldn’t be more than eighteen.
I ignored him and walked through the stunned crowd. Most of them were trying to stand straighter and appear sober. I saw one girl who actually looked to have her wit
s about her—at least she was covered up.
“Do you know Camille Rainey?” I asked.
She frowned and nodded. “She’s the girl who drowned.”
“Did you know her?”
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. “But I saw the whole thing. I was in the water with my friend and we heard Otis yell for someone to call 911, but we couldn’t get cell service. When I looked toward Otis, I could see that she was nowhere in sight. She just disappeared.”
“Did you see her before she went under?”
“I saw her take her bikini top off and jump in the lake.” She shifted her eyes away from mine. “That’s when we all took our tops off and went in, too. But she went way out into the deep part. The rest of us stayed in the shallow water.”
“So, you didn’t see when she actually disappeared?”
“No, but I heard Otis call for help right when she went under and I saw she was gone.”
I cursed under my breath and looked around. The smell of stale beer and urine was strong.
“Can I go home?” the girl asked. “I’ve been trying to call my parents, but I can’t get through to them. The group I came with told me they’re not leaving until tomorrow and I can’t find Chrissy.”
“Who’s Chrissy?”
“She’s the one who was with me when Camille drowned. I’ve looked everywhere but can’t find her.”
My heart fell. “Where was she when you last saw her?”
“She was walking with Otis.”
“Otis? The same Otis who was yelling for Camille?” I asked. “Otis Williams?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did she leave with him?”
“No, sir. He said he was going back to the boat launch to get some help and she said she was staying here in case Camille came back. Otis was actually the only one who drove around trying to find Camille.” She indicated the crowd with a wave of her hand. “Everyone else just kept on drinking. They don’t care about anything or anyone. They just want to party. Otis was the only one trying to help.”