Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18

by BJ Bourg

  CHAPTER 34

  By noon, we had searched every campground and park in Chateau Parish, but had come up dry. With nowhere else to turn, we headed back to the police department. The SWAT officers from the sheriff’s office peeled away from the caravan and continued their roving patrols. When we reached the station, Melvin said goodbye and went home to get some rest.

  “What’s next for us?” Amy asked when she and I were alone in my office.

  I studied her for a moment, recognizing that something was different about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something she’d said about Takecia earlier suddenly resonated with me and I smiled.

  “How’s Baylor?”

  Her face burned a bright shade of red and she quickly lowered her eyes to the notebook in her hands. “He’s fine.”

  Pleased with myself, I snatched the handset from its cradle and dialed Abel Adams’ number. I had received two missed calls from him while we were searching the campgrounds. I was hoping he had called to provide information rather than ask for it.

  “What’s up, Sheriff?”

  “Don’t you dare call me anything but Abel,” he said. “I’m still not used to that damn title.”

  “Well, it’s what you are now,” I said. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

  “Whatever.” After a brief paused, he asked if we’d found anything at the campgrounds.

  “We’ve got nothing.” I shook my head, going over every piece of evidence we’d found so far. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “I’m definitely at a loss.” I could hear the frustration in his voice. “My deputies want answers. The citizens want answers. Everyone’s breathing down my neck to solve this thing, but I don’t even know where to go from here.”

  As he talked, I was studying Amy. She was busying herself flipping through her notepad, but she seemed much happier than she had been earlier in the day. Had she and Baylor made a connection in the back seat of my Tahoe? Surely, they hadn’t had time to discuss dating. Maybe she was just happy that she’d gotten to spend time with him.

  “Did you check the other campgrounds in your area?” I asked.

  “Yeah, my guys did that first thing this morning. We didn’t find anything.” He huffed. “Sure, there were people in the campgrounds, but I can’t just go in there and start searching their belongings without a warrant.”

  “You’re right.” I watched Amy toss her open notebook on my desk and pick up her cell phone. “We can’t violate the rights of the masses just because one lunatic is running around gunning people down.”

  He said something, but I didn’t hear it because I was fixated on Amy’s notebook.

  “Hey, Abel, let me call you back.” I hung up before he had time to respond. I picked up the notebook. The page had been flipped to a crime scene sketch of a house that had been burglarized, and something on the sketch had captured my attention. I hoisted the notebook in the air. “Is this the sketch from the burglary you worked on Sunday?”

  “Yeah,” Amy said, looking up from her phone. “Why?”

  “Where’d this happen?”

  “On the east side.”

  I could almost feel my ears perk up. I flipped to the back of the notebook and found a clean page. Grabbing an ink pen from my desk, I began scribbling a timeline on it. When I was done, I turned it so Amy could see. Her expression grew increasingly curious as I rattled off my thoughts.

  “So, on Halloween night Deputy Daryl Winston is murdered in Buckheed County, Georgia,” I began quickly. “Two days later, your victim notices a pack of ham missing from her house here on the east side of Mechant Loup, but she doesn’t think anything of it until later.” I was standing now, pointing to the map on my wall. “Five days later—also on the east side of town and a little to the north—Chad Pierce is murdered and his car is stolen. Two nights later, Jenny is murdered here on the outskirts of town, as Chad’s car is heading north, leaving town.”

  Amy stared for a long moment, nodding as she did so. When she looked up, her face was scrunched up. “But what does it all mean?”

  “I’m not sure, but this is the most important part.” I pointed to a small mark on her crime scene sketch. “You indicated a landline phone here, and you said the woman noticed that her phone had been knocked over.”

  Amy nodded her head slowly as realization began to set in. “Do you think the killer used her phone?”

  “It’s possible,” I said, straightening from the desk. “And right now, it’s our only lead.”

  As we hurried out of my office, down the hall, and into the dispatcher’s station, I caught a glimpse of Baylor in the hall near the break room. Amy shot a quick glance that told me to get lost. I gave a knowing nod and headed out into the afternoon sunshine. Although we were nine days into November and it had been cooler over the weekend, the temperature had now climbed into the eighties. Winter seemed to be nowhere in sight.

  While waiting for Amy, I called Susan and asked about Ty.

  “He’s in with the doctor now,” she said in a low voice. “His mom’s here. She said he stopped taking his medicine two months ago. He told her he was cured and didn’t need it anymore.”

  “What can they do to help him?” I asked. “This is a never-ending cycle. It keeps disrupting his life. I mean, he’ll be fine for a year or two and then he’ll go off the meds and relapse.”

  “I heard the doctor talking to his mom about a long-acting injection that can be administered once every three months,” she said. “All he has to do is show up at the clinic four times a year to get a shot and he’ll be fine.”

  Relieved for Ty, I told Susan where I was heading and what I had in mind. “I’m hoping the killer made a call from that phone,” I said. “If so, I’m hoping the person he called will lead us to him. If not, well, we’re still stuck on zero.”

  She wished me luck. After ending the call, I ordered lunch from Bad Loup Burgers for Amy and me. I was just finishing the order when Amy appeared at the front door to the police department. She bounded down the large concrete steps like she was floating on air.

  “You look happy,” I said as she dropped in step with me. “Are you in love?”

  “Shut up!” She slugged my shoulder in feigned anger, but she couldn’t stifle a chuckle that escaped from her throat. She suddenly stopped. “Wait, where’re we going? I thought we were going to my burglary scene?”

  “I ordered some lunch,” I explained. “We need to eat while we have the chance. If we get lucky and develop a trail to follow, there’s no telling when we’ll get to eat again.”

  She knew I was right and we continued to the restaurant, which was located two blocks from the police department. I could smell the place long before we reached it and my stomach started throwing fits. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

  Once inside the crowded restaurant, I sidled up to the counter and paid for the food while Amy called her victim. I overheard her tell the victim we needed to check her phone for any suspicious activity, and she asked the woman to refrain from using the phone. When she ended the call, she nodded.

  “We’re good to go,” Amy said. “She hasn’t used the phone since the burglary. Apparently, they only keep a landline for when the cell phones go out during hurricanes.”

  I had just gotten the bag of burgers when I got a call from Tracy Dinger.

  “Please tell me you’ve got good news,” I said. “I’ve been hitting dead ends all day. It’d be nice to get some good news for a change.”

  “I don’t know if it’s good news, but it’s news anyway.” Without waiting for me to comment, she began giving it to me. “First off, I received several photographs of the casings from the firearms examiner in Buckheed County and I attempted to compare it to the first batch of casings you sent over from the Chad Pierce murder. None of them matched.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. I know my jaw must’ve dropped to the floor. Amy’s head snapped around to look at me, a quizzical expression on her face. I couldn’t move.
r />   CHAPTER 35

  I stood in the middle of Bad Loup Burgers with my mouth open for a slow count of three before trying to speak.

  “But…but are you saying the two murders are not connected?” I finally asked, stunned beyond belief. “That the person who killed Deputy Winston is not the same person who killed Chad Pierce or Deputy Billiot? This can’t be right.”

  “It gets worse,” she said plainly. “So, all of the casings in the first batch you sent were fired from the same weapon. That’s great. I also know from Buckheed County that all of their casings were fired from the same weapon, so that’s also great.”

  “I don’t understand how that’s great,” I said, interrupting her. “I thought for sure these murders were connected. And you said it gets worse—so what could be worse?”

  “Well, I compared the first batch of casings from the Pierce scene to the first batch from Deputy Billiot’s scene, and they don’t match either.”

  At that point, I could’ve been blown over with cigarette smoke. “Are you shitting me?”

  “Not at all,” she said with a laugh, although I didn’t think any of it was funny. “Next, I compared the casings from Deputy Billiot’s murder to the casings from Deputy Winston’s murder and those casings did match.”

  “Huh?” I was befuddled. “So, the same person who killed Jenny also killed Daryl, but didn’t kill Chad?”

  “That’s right, but there’s more.” I could hear paper rustling in the background for a few seconds before Tracy continued. “I examined the second batch of casings from the Pierce murder and they were all fired from one weapon, but they weren’t fired from the same weapon that fired the first batch.”

  I grabbed a nearby chair and took a seat. Amy was losing her mind with impatience and I could see several customers staring curiously at me.

  “Are you saying there were two shooters?” I asked in a low voice. “We’re hunting two killers?”

  “Well, you’ve either got two shooters with one rifle each or one shooter with two rifles,” she explained. “In any event, the second batch of casings from the Pierce murder did match the casings from the Buckheed murder and some of the casings from Deputy Billiot’s murder. Two rifles were definitely used in Deputy Billiot’s murder, as well.”

  “But only one rifle was used in Buckheed County?” I asked, seeking confirmation.

  “That’s right—only one rifle was used in Buckheed County,” Tracy said, “but the same two rifles were used in the killings of Chad Pierce and Deputy Billiot. So, in summation, the rifle used in the Buckheed County murder was also used in both of your murders, and a second rifle was used in both of your murders.”

  The wooden chair I was sitting on creaked as I leaned all of my weight against the backrest.

  “The second batch of casings from the Pierce murder scene came from the shots that were fired at Alice Pierce,” I said, “so that particular shooter didn’t actually kill anyone during the attack in the Waxtuygi camping area, but he did kill Deputy Winston. As far as the casings found at Deputy Billiot’s scene, they were all in one pile, so both killers either stood together or—like you said—it was one shooter with two rifles.”

  “Yeah,” Tracy said in agreement. “It was complicated, but once I was able to determine that I was only dealing with two firearms between the three murders, it was easier to bring order to the chaos.”

  “Did you get an IBIS hit on either of the rifles?” I asked.

  “No, they’re both clean,” Tracy said. “Now, it doesn’t necessarily mean they were never used in a crime—it just means the casings from these rifles were never entered into the database. Some smaller departments still don’t access the system.”

  I nodded, trying to figure out how this new revelation might change the course of the investigation. The puddle of oil out at the Waxtuygi parking area made more sense now. In order for the car with the oil leak to disappear and for Chad’s car to be stolen, there would need to be two drivers. But what had become of the vehicle with the oil leak? And why steal Chad’s car in the first place? Had the Grand Cherokee been stolen to use as bait to facilitate the murder of a police officer? Had they used the car with the oil leak to leave the area after killing Jenny? That made sense, because we had not found hide nor hair of them in the hours following Jenny’s murder.

  “Clint, are you still there?” Tracy asked.

  “Yeah,” I said wearily. “I’m just trying to figure out how to use this information to catch the killers.”

  “Best of luck to you, my friend.” Her tone was sincere. “I don’t envy you. This seems like a tough one.”

  I thanked her for the help, she told me to call anytime, and I ended the call.

  “What the hell?” Amy asked loudly, causing more customers to cast glances in our direction. “What’s going on?”

  I stood and waved for her to follow me out the door. Once we were on the sidewalk, I explained everything that Tracy had discovered and my thoughts about the cars. We were in my Tahoe and traveling to the east side of town by the time I’d finished.

  “Holy shit!” she said, her own jaw slacking. “I mean, if they still have the car with the oil leak, they could be in California by now.”

  I nodded, weighing the pros and the cons. On the upside, if they had left our jurisdiction, then the people in our communities were safe now, and so were our officers. On the other hand, if they were gone, it would be almost impossible to identify them and figure out where they were heading next. We wouldn’t know which agencies to alert or where to begin looking for them. That didn’t set well with me. I intended to bring these ruthless bastards to justice, and I would chase them to the end of the earth if I had to. I would never be able to rest easy knowing a cop killer was on the loose.

  CHAPTER 36

  “That’s the place.” Amy pointed to a shell driveway next to a large mailbox on the eastern shoulder of Cypress Highway. “It’s set back off the road quite a bit.”

  She was right. The house was hidden behind a stand of giant oak trees. I drove down the long driveway, my Tahoe rocking gently against the pitted surface.

  “What’s the victim’s name?” I asked.

  “I’ll let her tell you,” Amy said idly. After we’d driven in silence for several long seconds, she said, “So, this means that two people attacked Jenny, right?”

  “That’s right.” I shook my head. “She didn’t have a chance.”

  Amy turned and stared out the window. I could tell her mood had changed from her earlier meeting with Baylor. She was all business now, and she knew we were in for one hell of a fight if we encountered these killers. There was a good chance one or more of the officers currently working the case wouldn’t be walking the earth by the time this was over—and that included Amy and me.

  While it was a sobering prospect, it was no different than any other day in the life of a police officer, or any other job, for that matter. I’d worked accidental deaths in shipyards, on boat docks, in department stores, and even within the baptismal tank at a church. The dangers of the job didn’t deter the brave from doing their work. Instead, it heightened their senses and offered a deeper appreciation for each day that they were able to remain in an upright position.

  “This driveway curves to the north,” I mused as we approached the end of the street. “That puts us closer to the Waxtuygi Wildlife Nature Park. While I can’t see someone making their way from the highway to break into this place, I can certainly see them coming up through the forest behind the house.”

  Amy shot me a glance. “You really think this burglary is related to the murders?”

  “Even killers gotta eat,” I said as I shut off the engine and stepped out of my Tahoe.

  The victim, a thin woman in her early thirties, called out to us from a flower bed. It took me a second to find her among the tall flowers, but I finally saw an arm waving from behind a bush.

  “I’m coming,” she said with a grunt. “I’ve got to keep up with these weeds or th
ey’ll take over the beds. We moved here for the warm climate after my husband retired, but I didn’t realize they kept the heater turned on all year ’round.”

  I grinned while waiting for the woman to approach us, but I was still stuck on the fact that her husband was retired and she wasn’t a year older than thirty-five. Maybe she married an older man?

  When she reached us, she peeled off her gloves and stuck out a hand to Amy first, and then to me.

  “Hello, I’m Dolly Pardon, not to be confused with Dolly Parton.” She flashed a smile that caused her whole face to light up. “My dad is a bit of a jokester. He convinced my mom to try six times for a girl just so he could name me Dolly. I’m not complaining. Had they given up early, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have five brothers to terrorize every boyfriend I’ve ever owned.”

  Amy and I laughed and followed her into the house.

  “Do you have any leads?” she asked Amy over her shoulder as she led us through a foyer, down a hallway, and into a small sitting room.

  “I don’t want to alarm you,” Amy began slowly, “but we think there might be a link to the murders that happened out at Waxtuygi.”

  Dolly spun around and her eyes widened. “Are you serious? Is my family in danger?”

  “No, we think the killers are long gone,” Amy quickly explained. “They’ve definitely left this area. We’re thinking they broke in because they needed food and they might have used your phone.”

  Dolly pulled at the front of the tights she wore. “When we were looking for a place to raise our children, the first thing we did was check the crime rate. This area was reported as safe, but I’m starting to wonder if we’ve been duped.”

  I had noticed the phone resting on a corner table, and I headed for it, letting Amy try to convince Dolly that our town was safe despite the recent murders.