by BJ Bourg
I nodded my understanding and stepped out into the parking lot to make the phone call. The wind was blowing and it felt cooler than earlier. I loved the summer, so the idea of winter being around the corner did not make me happy. I moved close to the building to get in the shade and dialed the number Amy had given me.
A man picked up on the fourth ring and he seemed out of breath. “Conner’s Boxing Academy,” he said in a mountain twang. “How can we help you?”
“I’m looking for Damian Conner.”
“You found him,” he said.
I explained who I was and told him I needed to speak with him about Isaiah. I quickly apologized for his loss. “I understand from Mrs. Wilson that y’all were inseparable and I know how terrible it is to lose someone so close to you.”
He was silent for a long moment and all I could hear was his heavy breathing and some pitter-patter in the background. Finally, he asked, “Who’d you say you were?”
I identified myself again and explained that I needed to find out if he knew anything about Isaiah’s relationship with Bill Hedd. The line immediately went dead. I checked my phone to confirm the call had ended, and it had. Thinking the connection might be spotty up in the mountains, I dialed the number again. This time he picked up on the first ring. “Mister, I don’t know who the hell you are, but you’d better never call this number again.”
The line went dead again and I stood in the shadows staring down at my phone. Either the memory of losing his friend was still too much to bear after all these years, or I hit on a nerve. I hurried back inside and fished some money out of my wallet. Tossing it on the table, I waved to Susan that we needed to leave.
“Where are we going?” she asked, taking a last sip from her drink.
“You’re going home to get some rest,” I said. “I’m going to Ridgeview.”
CHAPTER 8
Wednesday, October 28
It was a little after midnight when Amy Cooke backed her cruiser into her favorite hiding spot along the south-bound shoulder of Main Street. It was a narrow passageway between a large mound of dirt and the metal guardrail approaching the Mechant Loup Bridge, and it was just wide enough to fit one car. It was also a secure location, because the large mound of dirt, which marked the starting point of the Bayou Tail Levee, covered her three o’clock position, Bayou Tail had her six, and the railing secured her nine.
From her vantage point, she could see speeders long before they could see her. She averaged a dozen, or more, tickets a week from that spot alone—and she had three other such spots around town. She smiled to herself. Chief Wolf had told her on more than one occasion that he would have to build a new room in the police department just to house the records from all the tickets she wrote.
Amy buzzed the window down—letting in the cool night air—and leaned back in her seat. Propping her left elbow on the window frame, she rested her head in her hand and smiled as the smell of swamp gas rolled in on the wind. It was an acquired scent, for sure. Tourists often covered their noses and complained about the rancid odor when first being exposed to it, but she loved the smell. It meant she was home.
Her eyes were heavy. The gentle breeze, along with the familiar sounds and smells of the marsh, were having a hypnotic effect and she found herself dozing off. She hadn’t gotten much sleep earlier in the day after arriving home from meeting with Isaiah’s boxing coach. Her boyfriend, Trevor, was in from offshore and had come over to visit. She told him several times she had to work tonight, but it didn’t seem to faze him, as he kept talking about his new truck and the boat he wanted to buy next. Finally, she’d marched to the door and opened it, telling him to leave before she threw him out. His feelings were hurt, but she knew he’d get over it.
Amy’s eyes slid shut and her head slipped off her hand, causing her to jerk awake. She stared wildly about, but everything was secure. Mosquitoes swarmed the inside of her car and several buzzed by her ear, but she ignored them. She had sprayed a thin layer of 100% Deet over her clothes and exposed skin before leaving the office, so she was well protected. The breeze had subsided and it was growing warmer in the car. She pulled at the front of her polyester uniform shirt to let some air in and looked up as headlights approached from the south. It was a car and it was cruising five miles under the speed limit, seemingly in no hurry. Red light glowed from the back of the vehicle as the driver applied the brakes. The car slowed to a crawl as it passed Cig’s Gas Station, making her think it would stop, but it didn’t. Instead, it continued north.
As the car approached the bridge, Amy saw it was a white Crown Victoria. It looked like a stripped out police cruiser that had been purchased at auction. It had push bumpers and a spotlight mounted on the driver’s side. She tried to get a look at the driver, but the side windows were tinted and there were no streetlights to illuminate the inside of the car, so she couldn’t see anything.
Amy settled back into her seat and waited, hoping a speeder would come along and give her something to do. She checked her phone to see if Chief Wolf had called or texted. He had left several hours earlier for Tennessee to try and meet up with Isaiah’s former best friend. Amy had begged to tag along, but he said they were already too shorthanded with Susan on suspension, so she offered to go in his place. He had actually considered it, but then decided it was something he needed to—
The bridge rattled to her left as a car drove over it. Amy turned and watched the same Crown Victoria drive by, this time traveling the speed limit. The red taillights splashed brightly as it came to a stop a quarter of a mile down the road. The car pulled onto the right shoulder of the road and then made a u-turn on Main Street and headed back to her location. Curious, she cranked up the engine and waited—her right hand on the gearshift and her left hand on the steering wheel. The Crown Victoria slowed as it approached the bridge and then suddenly came to a stop in the middle of the highway.
“What the hell are you doing?” Amy asked out loud.
From her open window, Amy could hear the driver rev the engine. She glanced around to see if there were any other cars or people in the area. Nothing. Can they see me? Are they trying to get my attention?
After a few seconds, the car began moving slowly forward and then turned in Amy’s direction, blinding her with its headlights. She tensed up, wondering if she should get out of her spot. Before she could make up her mind, the engine on the car roared and it lurched forward, heading straight for her.
Amy jerked her pistol from the holster on her gun belt and aimed it through the front windshield. Just as she was about to pull the trigger, the car came to a skidding stop in the gravel several feet in front of Amy’s cruiser and sat there, the driver massaging the accelerator as though taunting her.
Amy’s heart pounded in her chest. Keeping her pistol leveled at the car, she reached down with her left hand and flipped on her own headlights. Still unable to see the occupants, she switched on her bright lights, but it was no use. Their elevated position gave them the advantage. Not only was she trapped in her spot, but she was blind. Fear wrapped its icy fingers around her heart and squeezed until she felt she couldn’t breathe.
The Crown Victoria shook violently and a plume of smoke spilled from the exhaust as the driver smashed the accelerator and held it down. Her hand shaking, Amy keyed up her police radio, yelling to be heard over the roaring engine, “Melvin, where are you? I need backup near the bridge on Main!”
The noise suddenly stopped as the driver released the accelerator and a deathly calm fell over the scene. Amy sat breathless, waiting, wondering what would happen next. She leaned toward her left and kept her pistol trained on the car. There were no sounds other than the steady humming of both car engines.
“Amy, what’s going on?”
Amy jumped in her skin when Melvin’s voice blared through the speaker, and the barrel of her pistol smashed into the windshield. “Shit!” Frazzled, she snatched up her mic. “A suspicious vehicle has me boxed in near the bridge. I need backup ASAP.�
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“Do you have a description?”
Amy opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when the headlights on the Crown Vic went dark. She blinked to get back some of her night vision and squinted to see inside the vehicle. She was able to make out two shadowy figures in the front seat, but couldn’t tell anything more.
“Amy, what do they look like?” Melvin asked, his voice laced with concern. She could hear his siren blaring in the background and she knew he would be there soon.
“Stand-by,” she said, leaning forward to try and get a better view of the two passengers. It was no use—her headlights were at the wrong angle and it was too dark. Taking a deep breath, she eased her car door open and placed one foot on the ground. There was no movement from the car, so she stepped out, keeping her pistol pointed forward. As she stood there wondering if she should step out from behind the protection of the car door, the interior lights on the Crown Victoria came on and she gasped when she realized both figures were wearing dark ski masks. The driver smiled when he recognized the look of fear on her face and, even from that distance, she could see he was missing his front left tooth.
CHAPTER 9
Mountain Bear Inn, Ridgeview, TN
It was almost one in the morning when I turned into the parking lot of one of the few hotels in Ridgeview. I stepped out of my Tahoe and stretched, happy to stand up after driving for ten hours. After bringing Susan home earlier and getting Damian’s address from Amy, I’d stopped at my house to feed Achilles and pack some things for the trip. Chloe hadn’t been home, but I’d called to let her know where I was going and asked her to look after my dog. She sounded upset on the other end.
“You mean I won’t even get to see you before you leave?” she had asked.
“Time is my enemy,” I’d explained. “I need to know why Bill hates Isaiah and I have to find out like yesterday.”
After complaining a little about the short notice, she had finally offered to get more involved—to do some digging around town—but I told her I was sure Conner held the key to everything and I needed to speak with him in a hurry. She said her intern hadn’t turned up anything of substance, but she was still searching old film. We said our goodbyes and I’d headed out of town. Mayor Dexter Boudreaux had sanctioned the trip without hesitation. He agreed it was our only lead and our best chance of freeing Susan. Right at that moment—700 miles from home and breathing in the cool mountain air—I wasn’t so sure and I was hoping I hadn’t steered my boss wrong.
The blinking sign in front of the hotel said there were vacancies, but when I looked through the window I couldn’t see anyone behind the counter. I shrugged and tested the door, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t, so I pushed through and found myself in a clean lobby that smelled of disinfectant and air freshener.
Before I could close the door, I heard shuffling feet and a middle-aged man appeared from the darkness behind the counter. He was shoving eye glasses in place over a crooked nose and it appeared I had disturbed his sleep. “How can I help you?” he asked.
I told him I needed a room for the night and I didn’t care what kind. Without saying much, he pulled out a ledger and started setting me up. He charged me eighty bucks and handed me a key. “It’s around the side, near the ice machine.”
I thanked him and found the room with no problem. After unloading my stuff, I kicked off my boots and pulled a bottle of vodka from my bag before settling on the bed. I stared at the bottle for a long moment before twisting off the top. Losing Abigail and Michele had changed my life forever. It seemed as though I was stuck in a perpetual nightmare. No amount of time or distance could ease the pain I felt and I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Abigail’s lifeless face. I would often wish for a day when I didn’t need the booze to sleep, but it had become such a part of my life now that I didn’t think I could go on without it—even if I could sleep without having the nightmares.
I removed the cap and took a long drink, sighing as the warm liquid moved down my throat and burned my chest. My phone rang and I fished it from my pocket. I put it to my ear and said hi to Chloe without looking at the display screen.
“Did you make it?” she asked.
I told her I was there and gave her the name of the hotel I checked into. “It’s not bad for a small town,” I said. “They actually have electricity and running water.”
Chloe laughed and we made small talk while I pulled from my bottle. My eyes were starting to get heavy and I told her I needed to get some sleep. She didn’t answer immediately and I asked if everything was okay.
“I’m…it’s just that I’m a little worried,” she said.
I frowned. “About what?”
“You.”
When I asked why, she told me she was afraid the Parker brothers would be coming after me. “You did kill their brother and I heard they sent a message through a stranger saying they were coming for you—and now they’re out.”
“Who told you about that?”
“I have my sources.”
While she did have sources for work, I was surprised she’d found out about the threat. I had intentionally withheld that bit of information from her because I knew it would only make her worry, and I didn’t need her worrying about me more than she already did. “Well, you don’t need to worry about me—you should be worried about them. God help them if they make the mistake of coming into Mechant Loup.”
Chloe didn’t say anything and things got quiet for several moments. I’d finished the bottle and it was dangling from my hand. My eyes were growing heavy and they started to slide shut when her voice cut through the dullness. “Well, I guess I’d better let you get some sleep. I love you, Clint.”
“I love you, too, Chloe,” I mumbled. She hung up and I turned my phone on silent before letting it fall to the floor.
CHAPTER 10
Mechant Loup, LA
Amy immediately retreated toward the back of her cruiser, but the subjects in the Crown Vic didn’t move. She dropped low and made her way to the passenger’s side of her squad car, stopping near the back bumper to peek over her car, ready to shoot it out with the two strangers if necessary. Off in the distance, she could hear sirens and she knew Melvin was closing in on her location.
As Amy watched, she saw the driver turn toward the man beside him. She couldn’t tell if he said anything because the mask was covering his mouth, but the man nodded and pointed over his shoulder. Suddenly, the headlights on the Crown Victoria came on again—blinding Amy—and the engine roared to life as the car shot in reverse. She hurried to the driver’s side of her car just in time to see the vehicle whip around and speed off on Main Street, disappearing around a curve in the road.
Amy punched the shift in gear and smashed the accelerator. Her tires spun on the loose terrain and gravel popped against the undercarriage as the Charger strained to give chase. When her rear tires hit the pavement, they screeched loudly and she shot forward with such force that her head hit the seat rest behind her. Within seconds she was closing in on the suspect’s vehicle. Her lights flashed brightly and her siren blared, but they had no effect on the suspects. Snatching up her police radio, she keyed it up to tell Melvin she was in hot pursuit, giving him her direction of travel. Melvin asked her to repeat her traffic several times and she tried, but he didn’t seem to understand what she was saying over the siren and wind gushing in through her open window.
Amy could no longer hear Melvin’s siren above her own. She glanced down several streets as she drove—hoping to see his flashing lights—but it was no use. He was nowhere to be seen. She dropped her radio to reach for the window button, but the suspect vehicle suddenly swerved around a slow-moving car and she yelped, clutching the steering wheel with both hands. The suspects had sped up and were now traveling over a hundred miles per hour—too fast to be distracted. She was thankful the chase was not occurring during school traffic, but Main Street was no place for a police chase at any hour, and she was one wrong move away from certain death
.
Within a minute, Mechant Hotel and Mechant Groceries blurred by and they left the lights of town in their rearview mirror. Amy’s heart pounded in her chest. Where were they leading her? What were their intentions? Should she back off and wait for Melvin? At that very moment, all he knew was that she was in pursuit in the area of the bridge and he didn’t know her direction of travel. For all he knew, they could be heading north.
Just as she decided to slow down and call in her location over the police radio, she saw headlights in her rearview mirror. Relief flooded over her as she realized Melvin had caught up to her. The odds were even now! She was about to accelerate again, but the brake lights on the Crown Victoria lit up the road in front of her and the car slowed abruptly. She applied her brakes and matched the car’s speed, which was now moving about twenty miles per hour. Melvin was still approaching at a high rate of speed and she thought about radioing for him to slow down, but she caught her breath when she realized something was missing—blue police lights!
Amy’s reaction time was superb, but it was not fast enough to move completely out of danger. She had jerked her steering wheel to the right, shooting to the shoulder of the highway, but the speeding car crashed violently into her rear bumper and spun her Charger around in the roadway. Her head jerked from side to side as the car spun out of control and airbags exploded. The seatbelt locked her into the driver’s seat, but she lost her grip on the steering wheel when the Charger came to an abrupt halt after hitting a tree on the southbound shoulder of the road. Dazed and confused, she choked on the powder from the airbags and strained to see through the smoke.
The lights on her cruiser were no longer flashing, but her siren still wailed. The noise pierced her eardrums, but she didn’t have time to turn it off—she had to get out of there and find out who hit her and why. With hands that shook, she released the lock on her seatbelt and grabbed for the door handle. She tugged on it, but nothing happened. Grabbing the top of the door frame, she pulled herself up from her seat and started to squeeze out of the window. Before she could get outside, rough hands grabbed her by the arms and hair and ripped her from the opening. She heard several gunshots and her siren faded to a low murmur.