Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18

by BJ Bourg

  “It’s ruined.” I shot a thumb toward the ambulance where medics were desperately working to stabilize Saul Bankston. “That asshole got his blood all over it.”

  CHAPTER 44

  When I arrived at the hospital later, I met Amy in the lobby of the emergency room.

  “Whose shirt?”

  I glanced down at the oversized Buds Guns T-shirt I’d borrowed from Melvin. “Thankfully, Melvin had an extra change of clothes in his truck, so I didn’t have to show up shirtless.”

  “Saul’s still alive,” she said, plucking at the front of the shirt. “You need to put on a few pounds. Most married men your age can fill out an extra-large.”

  I ignored her comment and asked about the severity of Saul’s wound.

  “Apparently, the knife blade didn’t hit anything important.”

  “He sure bled a lot.”

  “That’s because Regan twisted the blade in the wound. Caused all kinds of tissue damage.”

  “No kidding?” Now I understood why the wound had looked so jagged. Stabbing someone was a very close and personal form of self-defense. Most folks didn’t have the stomach for that type of brutality. While they might do what was required in a desperate struggle for life, they often suffered from psychological problems in the aftermath of such violence. “How’s Regan holding up?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “How about mentally—how’s she dealing with what happened?”

  “She’s got nerves of steel.” Amy nodded her appreciation. “I went to college with her and I knew she was assertive and tough, but we never got into any real trouble together—you know, where we had to kill someone. I never—”

  “I would hope not,” I said with a laugh and a shake of my head.

  “Right. Well, I never realized she was such a badass. I’m really impressed. She’s not afraid to fight for her life and she doesn’t apologize for what she’s got to do. On the other hand, she seemed relieved to hear that Saul had survived. She doesn’t seem to hold any animus toward him. She’s very level-headed.” She paused and then grinned. “I guess all of my good qualities rubbed off on her during those early years.”

  I nodded absently. I was tired and hungry, but I wanted to check on Regan and then I wanted to see our prisoner. I told this to Amy and she led the way to Regan’s room.

  “I want to leave,” Regan was saying to the nurse. “I’m fine.”

  “The doctor wants to keep you here overnight for observation,” the nurse responded. “He said you can’t leave until morning.”

  Regan threw the covers off and dropped her socked feet to the floor. “I’d like to see him try and stop me.”

  “Regan, I think you should listen to them,” Abel said. “You almost died. There might be some brain damage or some other problems.”

  “They checked my oxygen levels—” It was then that Regan saw Amy and me standing in the doorway and clamped her mouth shut. A curious expression fell over her face. “Clint, what happened out there?”

  We hadn’t spoken about the incident on the boat ride back to the landing. After tending to Regan and getting a brief statement from her about what had happened between her and Saul underwater, I had gone right to working on the criminal. No other words had been exchanged between us, so she didn’t know how she had ended up back on the boat.

  “The last thing I remember,” she said again, “was that I had caught up to that scorpion dude under the water and he kicked me in the face. I then grabbed his leg and he got free and began choking me. I was about to lose consciousness, so I stabbed him. He wouldn’t let go, so I cut the hose on his regulator. That’s the last I remember. Next thing I know, I was waking up on the boat coughing and vomiting up water.”

  I gave a brief and blunt description of what had happened, making sure she was aware that if it hadn’t been for Melvin, we would both be dead.

  “Why would you be dead?” she asked. “You got out of the water on your own.”

  I didn’t bother telling her that if Melvin had not been there, she would’ve sunk back to the bottom of the bayou despite my best efforts to keep her afloat, and there was no way I would’ve stop trying to save her.

  “If I were you, I’d listen to Abel,” I said before turning to Amy and asking her to take me to Saul.

  I heard Regan grumbling as we walked out, but it sounded like she was relenting.

  We stopped at the nurse’s station briefly and asked to see Saul.

  “I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible tonight,” said the head nurse. “He had to undergo a blood transfusion. The procedure went fine and he’s expected to make a full recovery, but it was touch and go for a moment. He’ll have to spend at least a week in the hospital.”

  “Well, he’s under arrest,” I said, “so we’ll be keeping a deputy outside his door at all times. He attempted to kill one of our officers and he will not get away with that.”

  “Understood.”

  As soon as we walked away, I called Mallory and asked if she could make arrangements for a twenty-four-hour guard. She said she would get right on it.

  I had just ended the call and Amy and I were heading for the exit when my phone rang. It was Beth Gandy, our weekend dispatcher. I had called her earlier and asked her to run Saul Bankston’s name through the criminal databases in Louisiana, Florida, and Alabama. She was calling with the results.

  “He’s got a long rap sheet out of Florida,” Beth said in her motherly voice. “A lot of misdemeanors and a few felonies. His last arrest was five years ago for arson, attempted murder, and resisting arrest. There’re no details about the incident, but he pled guilty and was sentenced to eight years. It looks like he did two and was let out on parole.”

  “If he’s on parole, he’s probably not supposed to leave Florida.”

  “That must be why there’s a warrant for his arrest for violating his parole,” Beth said, feigning astonishment.

  “Why didn’t you lead with that?” I asked, chuckling.

  “And where would the fun be in that?”

  After talking briefly, I thanked her and ended the call.

  “Shit,” I said to Amy.

  “What is it?” she asked, stopping outside of my truck and waiting for me to activate the keyless remote.

  “There’s a warrant for Saul’s arrest,” I explained. “It seems he violated his parole.”

  “Why the long face? Isn’t that good news?”

  “No.” I opened my door and stepped onto the running board before plopping down in the driver’s seat. Once Amy was seated beside me, I said, “He probably ran from us because there was a warrant for his arrest and not because he murdered Frank and Chrissy.”

  “Aw, shit, you’re right.” She chewed on her lower lip as I drove south toward Mechant Loup. “I guess it’s still possible he killed them, though—right?”

  “I guess so, but it’s also just as likely that one of the other guys on the diving boat did it. Hell, Phillip Burke might’ve done it.”

  “But he couldn’t fit the wetsuit.”

  “That’s true,” I said, “unless the wetsuit in Gabe’s boat wasn’t worn by the killer.”

  “Do you think it’s still possible Gabe did it?”

  “Shit, I don’t know.” I was thoughtful for a long moment. “We need to talk to Saul as soon as he’s alert. I’m going to call the crime lab first thing in the morning. I want them to put a rush on the DNA from the scuba gear. If we can find just one of our victims’ DNA on the gear along with DNA from one of our suspects, then we’re golden.”

  “I think we’ll have a better chance of getting Saul to confess,” Amy mused. “There wasn’t much contact between the killer and the victims, so I doubt we’ll be able to link our victims to the gear.”

  CHAPTER 45

  I had called the crime lab first thing Monday morning and they had assured me they were working the evidence as quickly as humanly possible. They also told me they had extracted DNA profiles from various points on the scuba
gear, but they were still working up the evidence.

  “So far, we’ve been able to determine that all of the samples came from one contributor,” the DNA analyst said. “Frank Jones, Gabe Burke, Camille Rainey, and Chrissy Graves were not contributors to the one profile we recovered.”

  I scowled, confused. Gabe’s DNA should’ve been somewhere on the gear. “What parts of the gear did the DNA come from?”

  “The gloves, the tank, the mouth piece on the regulator, and the wetsuit,” she had said. “We’re still mapping profiles and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  “What about CODIS?” I asked, wondering if they had submitted the profile to the Combined DNA Index System, which housed the profiles of known felons from across the country.

  “We submitted it Friday, but haven’t heard back from them yet.” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then the analyst said they should know more by the end of the week.

  I had been about to end the call when I suddenly remembered Camille had been scratched by some part of the gear.

  “Can you swab every corner of the gear?” I asked. “Any place that might cause a scratch? Camille Rainey was scratched by something as the killer passed by her in the water.”

  The analyst assured me she would take care of it and we ended the call. I told Amy what I’d learned.

  “Now all we need is a confession,” she had said.

  I had called the hospital a dozen times throughout the day, but it wasn’t until later in the afternoon that I finally received a call from the charge nurse telling me Saul was alert and resting comfortably.

  “He hasn’t had his pain medicine yet,” she had offered. “I know how you guys like your witnesses to be lucid, so if you get here within the hour, he won’t be under the influence of anything except antibiotics.”

  I hung up the phone before the nurse could finish talking. “Amy, he’s ready!”

  I heard Amy’s boots stomping down the hallway. She stopped in front of my office briefly and then we rushed outside to my truck. Once inside, I drove faster than I should have. Within twenty minutes we were at the bedside of Saul Bankston. His face wasn’t as pale as it had been when we’d arrived at the boat landing with him last night.

  “How are you?” I asked, indicating the bandage on his side. “That was one hell of a scratch.”

  “What the hell is this?” Saul lifted his chained hand. “Your officer stabbed me nearly to death and this is how you treat me? Why am I handcuffed to my bed? I’m a patient here. I’m the victim. No one in this place will tell me what’s going on.”

  “It seems you’re a wanted man, Saul.” I pulled a chair close to the bed and sat in it. Amy had moved to the opposite side of the room and was leaning against the nearby wall. I handed him a copy of the arrest warrant. “It seems you’ve violated your parole.”

  He let out an audible sigh of relief. He didn’t even look at the paper. “I knew that’s why you stopped our boat. The last time I talked to my parole officer he threatened to get a warrant if I didn’t show up for my drug screening.”

  “Actually, we didn’t stop your boat. Hell, we didn’t even know who you were.” I leaned a forearm on the metal railing and stared into his eyes, which were level with mine. “What is your relationship with Gabe Burke?”

  The color drained from his face again and I caught myself wondering if his wound had sprung a leak. I glanced at the bandage, but it was dry.

  “Well?” I asked when he didn’t say anything. “What’s your relationship with your boss’ son?”

  “I’ve got no relationship with him.” He licked his dry lips. “I mean, I’ve seen him around the shop, but that’s about it. I don’t have relationships with men.”

  “What shop have you seen him around?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said you saw Gabe around the shop—what shop would that be?”

  “Oh, in Mr. Phillip’s dive shop.”

  “Where’d you meet him for the first time?”

  “At the shop.”

  I rubbed my chin and furrowed my brow. “Are you sure about that? You see, I might not have known your name, but I know everything there is to know about what you’ve done. Now, why don’t we try this again—where’d you first meet Gabe?”

  He swallowed. “Oh, no, that’s right—I met Gabe at Spearmonger’s. I was looking for work. He was there and told me that his dad was looking for divers. He said it was the best outfit around.”

  “How many times have you been on Gabe’s boat?”

  “What does this have to do with my parole?” He shifted his eyes from me to Amy, looking for an escape route. “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to go to court as soon as possible. I plan on revoking myself and finishing out my time.”

  “Well, we’re not interested in your crimes in Florida,” I said. “I want to know about the crimes you’ve been committing here in Mechant Loup—out on Le Diable Lake while on Gabe’s boat.”

  I was gambling now, piecing all of the information together inside my head. If Gabe had been too hammered to dive, someone must’ve used his boat and the gear that had come from Phillip Burke’s boat. Since Phillip couldn’t fit the wetsuit and Gabe was supposedly always high, that left Saul, who was the right size and who was physically fit.

  When Saul didn’t respond, I continued. “Look, we know what you’ve been up to. The only reason you got a job with Phillip Burke was so you could gain access to the boats on the lake. You befriended Gabe and took advantage of his drug addiction. While he was passed out, you would drive his boat to the lake and steal things from the tourists out there. You operated for a month or two with no incident, but then you got caught, didn’t you?”

  The veins in his neck were bouncing.

  “What happened with Frank? Did he see you? Is that why you dragged him overboard and drowned him?” I leaned even closer. “What about Chrissy? Did she catch you stealing from one of the boats? Is that why you attacked her and drowned her?”

  “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And Camille”—I grinned widely—“she sure fooled you. You thought you’d killed three people, and that’s what you told the reporter, but you were wrong. Camille survived you. She outsmarted you. Why’d you do it, Saul? Was it because they caught you, or was it because Phillip Burke paid you to scare people away from the lake?”

  “I…I’m not…you know what?” Saul licked his lips again and set his jaw. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to me. I want a lawyer.”

  Outwardly, my expression was unmoved, but on the inside, I sighed heavily and unleashed a string of cuss words. I needed his confession, but the only way to get that was to keep him talking. Once he mentioned a lawyer, it was over. I couldn’t ask him if he was sure and I couldn’t try to talk him out of it—it was over.

  I stood and nodded. “I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

  When we were outside, Amy asked if I thought he was our guy.

  “He’s got to be. He fought too hard to get away from Regan.”

  Once outside, we jumped in my truck and headed south. If Gabe’s neighbor was correct, someone had set Gabe up to look like the murderer, and all fingers pointed to Saul—in my mind, at least.

  “You were wrong,” I said to Amy as we approached the Mechant Loup Bridge.

  “About?”

  “You said it would be easy to get a confession from Saul.”

  “Hmm…” She frowned and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I don’t remember saying that.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Saul spent four more days in the hospital and then was transported to the Chateau Parish Detention Center the following Thursday. It didn’t help us any, because the last time we’d spoken to him he had asked for a lawyer. Once that happened, officers couldn’t speak to suspects again unless the suspects reinitiate contact.

  In the meantime, Amy and I had been busy. We had searched Saul’s sleeping quarters at the diving bunkhouse and locat
ed a cell phone in the top drawer of his nightstand. It was a burner phone and it had been wiped clean, but we were able to ascertain that the number was 555-0666—the same number that had been communicating with Gabe Burke before he had been killed.

  Phillip Burke was not happy that I’d killed his son, so we’d asked Mallory Tuttle to interview him. She had questioned the man extensively. Since he was the one with strong ties to the community and Saul worked for him, it made sense that he might be pulling Saul’s strings. However, Mallory got nowhere with him. He never asked for an attorney and he answered every question she asked. He allowed Mallory to examine his cell phone, search his boats, search his shop, and search his house, but she found nothing linking him to the murders. He even allowed Mallory to view his online banking records. Other than a weekly salary that was actually a little lower than those of his other employees, he hadn’t paid Saul anything.

  Additionally, Amy and I had spent a couple of days in Saul’s hometown in Florida. We had interviewed his neighbors, previous employers at various dive shops, his parole officer, acquaintances, and even fellow inmates, but we came up empty at every turn. We did learn that he might have had a girlfriend, but no one seemed to know who she was.

  I found out about Saul’s transfer on Friday morning and had just gotten off the phone with the Chateau Parish Detention Center when Lindsey strolled into my office carrying a stack of documents.

  “What’re you doing this weekend?” she asked, dangling the paperwork from her fingers.

  “I’ll be right here if this case doesn’t solve itself today.”

  “This might help,” she said, handing me the stack. “These crime lab reports just came through the fax machine.”

  I glanced at the red light that was blinking on my desk phone. I’d seen it when I’d first arrived at work, but had been too busy to check the voicemail. Thinking it might be related to the reports Lindsey had just handed me, I snatched up the handset and listened to the message.