by BJ Bourg
I shook my head and reached for the trunk lid, steadying myself. I forced my eyes back to Chloe’s lifeless face and bit down hard, trying to keep what was left of my lunch in my stomach. I felt numb. The woman I’d come to know was lying in a heap in the trunk of her own car—and it might very well be my fault.
Chloe’s face was ashen and her eyes were wide open, as though she’d fought death to the very end, trying not to let the light fade to darkness. I reached out to touch her and jerked my hand back when I felt her cold skin. It was not how I remembered her. Her body had always been so warm and inviting.
“Chief, I’m so sorry,” Melvin said. He put an arm around my right shoulder and Susan put an arm around my left one, and we all stared in silence.
After what seemed like forever, I allowed my eyes to take in the rest of her body, searching for clues as to why she was there. She was wearing a green sun dress and matching sandals. There were three dark stains on the front of her dress, and I winced when I realized it was blood from gunshot wounds. I moved closer on unsteady legs and tilted her head to the side. In her left ear there was a snowflake earring I’d bought her for Christmas, but the right one was missing. Her fingernails were intact and clean, and her knuckles didn’t appear bruised. I lifted one arm and then the other, but none contained any defensive wounds.
“It’s like she didn’t know what hit her,” I mumbled. “Like she didn’t see it coming.”
“Chief, didn’t you say someone opened the bridge Wednesday night?” Melvin asked.
Not taking my eyes off of Chloe’s body, I nodded.
“It must’ve been the killer,” he said, “because someone broke into the bridge cabin, and it looked fresh. I’m going process the cabin. I’ll search for prints, DNA, shoe patterns—anything I can find.”
I nodded again, but I already knew what he’d find. The Parker brothers were responsible for this. They’d attacked Amy at the bridge and they dumped Chloe and her vehicle into the bayou.
When Melvin had driven away, I shook my head to clear it. I needed to tell Chloe’s parents and then I needed to hunt down the Parker brothers and take them in. I was hoping they resisted arrest, because I wanted them dead. But I couldn’t start tromping around in the swamps until that tracker from the sheriff’s office arrived at the scene. If I messed up any potential scents, we’d never find them.
“Where’s Gretchen Verdin?” I asked to no one in particular. “We need to start tracking these bastards right away!”
“She’s on her way,” Sean called out. “She should be here in fifteen minutes.”
Susan moved in front of me and put her hands on my face. Looking me right in the eyes, she said, “You need time to grieve and you need some rest. We can take care of tracking the Parker brothers. I’ll see to it personally.”
I grunted and shook my head. “No way are you taking this from me, Susan. The Parkers are my problem and I’m going to deal with them.”
Susan chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Finally, the hard lines on her face relaxed. “Okay, but I’m going with you.”
“That’s fine.” I reached up and pulled the trunk shut. “I don’t want people gawking at her like this.”
“I understand,” Susan said. “I’ll get Mallory and Doug down here to process the car. It’s best if they handle the investigation.”
“They can handle the case, but I’m making the notification.” We made our way back to the bank of the bayou and I pointed to where my AR-15 was leaning against one of the pillars under the bridge. “Do you need more ammo for that?”
She nodded.
“After we notify Chloe’s parents, we’ll drive to my house and load up on ammo. I want to make damn sure we have enough firepower to put an end to this shit.”
We were about to leave when I heard the roar of an engine approaching at a high rate of speed. I turned to see Reginald’s large F-250 skidding onto the shoulder. He jumped out and approached Susan and me at a brisk walk.
“Isabel said Chloe Rushing was found dead,” he said. “Is it true?”
I nodded. “She was murdered.”
“Damn.” Reginald shook his head and frowned. “I’m sorry, Clint, and so is Isabel. She told me to let you know we’re here if you need anything. She wanted to come here herself, but she’s stuck in court.”
I thanked him and told him we had to go. “We’ll be back in a few,” I explained. “Melvin can update you on what’s been going on here.”
CHAPTER 33
8:45 p.m.
Clint Wolf’s House
Ringleader scanned the restaurant. His front tooth on the left side was missing and he pushed the tip of his tongue through the gap, then scowled. “When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. When it’s not, there are consequences!”
“Sir, you’re right. I disobeyed your order—”
“I know I’m right!” Ringleader jerked Abigail around in front of him as he stepped forward. She screeched in terror, tears pouring down her pale face.
“Abbie, it’s okay,” I said calmly. “Just look at Daddy. I promise you, everything’s going to be—”
“Shut the hell up!” Ringleader pointed the pistol at me. “Are you a pig? You’re acting like a pig right now.” He sniffed the air. “You smell like a damn pig!”
There was too much distance between us for me to disarm him. I shifted my eyes from him to the other three men. I could see Paunchy dragging himself to his feet in my peripheral vision. The pistol was on the floor in front of him, but was too far from me.
Ringleader shoved the pistol roughly into the side of Abigail’s temple, making her cry even louder. He glared at me. “Are you a pig?”
“No, I’m not a cop. I’m just a guy who took his wife and daughter out to dinner. Please, I’m begging you not to hurt her.”
“Begging, eh? Get on your knees and beg me like you mean it.”
I dropped to my knees, folded my hands in front of my face. “Please, sir, I beg you not to hurt Abigail. She’s six years old. She just recently graduated from kindergarten and—”
“Cops,” one of the other robbers called. “The cops are coming!”
“You should’ve stayed in your seat.” Ringleader smiled and pulled the trigger.
——
I jerked awake and stared wildly about, not knowing where I was or what was happening.
“Are you okay?” It was Susan’s voice and she was in the driver’s seat of Seth’s truck. There were worry lines on her face. “You must’ve fallen asleep. You were mumbling and grunting.”
I took a deep breath and settled down, remembering. After notifying Chloe’s parents about her murder, Susan and I had served as Gretchen’s cover team as she worked her K-9 up and down the northern banks of Bayou Tail searching for a scent, but they’d found none. The sun had finally gone down on us and we were forced to abandon the search until morning.
I straightened and gathered up my shotgun and bag of ammunition. “Pick me up in the morning?”
Susan nodded. After a moment, she said, “I’m so sorry about Chloe. You’ve suffered so much in your life already and to have this happen to you…”
“Thanks.” I fidgeted in my seat. “Do you know when they’re doing her autopsy?”
“Mallory said they’re shooting for tomorrow afternoon, but it depends on how long it takes to do the others.” She sighed. “This has been the second worst day of my life, Clint.”
I nodded my agreement. I knew what her worst day had been and she knew mine. We both sat in silence, each understanding the other. I finally opened my door and slid out. I paused to look at her before shutting the door. Her eyes were moist.
“Do you need anything from me?” she asked. “Anything at all?”
“Just get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
When she was gone, I trudged inside and tossed my shotgun on my bed. After stripping off my gun belt, I hung it on the bedpost and walked into the bathroom. I didn’t recognize myself in t
he mirror. I smelled like marsh mud and stale sweat, and looked even worse. I didn’t feel like taking a shower, but I needed one, so I labored through it.
Smelling like soap and feeling a little better physically, I pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt and walked into the kitchen to look for a bottle of vodka. I squatted in front of the sink and smiled when I jerked open the cabinet doors. There were two bottles—one full and the other half empty. I reached for the full one and had just wrapped my fingers around it when a familiar voice from the living room startled me.
“Pig, are you ready to go to hell and meet your—”
Without hesitation, I whirled around and threw the bottle in the direction of Simon’s voice as I lunged toward my bedroom door. I heard glass break, and Simon roared in pain.
As I bolted into my room, gunfire exploded from the living room and bullets riddled the kitchen cabinets behind me. I snatched the shotgun from my bed and dove into the closet, huddling behind my gun safe. Simon was belting out orders and I could hear at least one other voice as they directed their gunfire toward my bedroom. Light was still shining from the bathroom and it lit up my room enough for me to see the curtains jerking from bullet strikes. Holes appeared in the wall paneling of my room and stuffing from my mattress floated into the air. The barrage was relentless and I knew better than to step away from the cover of my metal safe. I patiently gripped my shotgun, waiting for the right moment.
Almost as suddenly as it began, the shooting finally stopped. A shell casing tinkered across the wooden floor and came to rest somewhere in the living room. After that sound, everything grew deathly quiet. I took slow, quiet breaths, holding my mouth open to try and hear over the ringing in my ears.
Having played enough hide-and-seek as a kid, I knew the seeker was always at a disadvantage, so I stayed put. If the Parker brothers wanted me bad enough, all I had to do was sit there and wait. Sooner or later, they’d come seeking.
Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. After about fifteen minutes, I heard a coarse whisper, but couldn’t make out what was said. The floor creaked in the living room and I knew someone was on the move. The sound grew steadily closer until it reached my bedroom door and stopped.
I stood and waited beside my safe.
“Can you see anything?” Although he was whispering, I recognized Simon’s voice.
“I can’t see behind the bed,” someone said from the doorway. I didn’t recognize the voice, but knew it had to be one of Simon’s brothers. A beam of light shined from the doorway and stabbed at the dark corners of the room.
“Go check it out,” Simon said, sounding impatient. His voice was closer to the door. “I’ll cover you.”
A boot scuffed against the floor just inside my bedroom, and I moved my finger to the trigger of the shotgun. The beam of light wobbled as the man took another step into the room. I took a deep breath and held it, waiting for the next step, which would put him right outside the closet.
The beam of light turned in my direction and I leaned deeper into the shadows of the closet, trying to hide from the probing light.
“Hey,” the man called, “I think something moved in the closet!”
CHAPTER 34
I exhaled my lungful of air and stepped out of the closet. In one quick motion, I brought the shotgun to my shoulder and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening. The flashlight fell from the man’s grasp and he collapsed in a lifeless heap. In the dim glow from the bathroom light, I saw a gaping red hole in his throat. If my memory was right, the man was Thomas Parker. I gritted my teeth. One down, two to go.
“You bastard!” Simon screamed. “I’m going to kill you, pig!”
I quickly faded back into the closet as gunfire again erupted from the living room. Bullets ripped through the walls around me, but I stayed behind the fireproof gun safe. After a few long seconds, there was a brief lull in the action and I heard a magazine hit the floor. I quickly stepped out and fired another shot in the direction of the door. In that brief moment, I realized no one was there. I thought about running to the opposite side of the room, but there was no cover, so I dipped back into the closet.
“Taylor, get some gasoline,” Simon yelled. “We’ll burn him out!”
My heartbeat quickened. If they set fire to my house, I was toast. Unless…
As gunshots continued to rain in from the doorway, I reached around the safe and punched in the code on the electronic lock. When the door popped loose, I shoved it open. I then began grabbing boxes of ammunition and pulling them off the shelves. I tossed them to the floor beside me, trying to make a space large enough for me to fit inside. When I’d stripped everything from the safe, I grabbed the shelf and tried to pull it free. It didn’t move. Shit! There was no way I was fitting inside the safe with the shelf still in place.
There was a brief lull in the gunshots being fired into my closet wall and my bedroom, and I heard the screen door slam at the back of my house. Taylor was heading for the shed to look for gas! That left Simon all alone in my house. I stood ready, trying to time the rhythm of his shots. I was about to step out and engage Simon when a voice called from the back yard.
“Taylor Parker, drop the gun—now!” It was Susan!
“Do it or you’re dead!” Melvin hollered.
Simon stopped shooting in my direction and I knew he heard the voices, too. I peeked out of the closet and saw him in the doorway to my bedroom, looking toward the back of the house.
“Taylor, don’t—” Susan’s voice was cut off by a three-round burst of semi-automatic gunfire and a boom from a shotgun. Simon screamed Taylor’s name and jumped to his feet, starting for the back door. He was raising an AK-47 semi-automatic rifle to his shoulder, but I had sprung from the closet and was on him before he took two steps.
With a grunt, I struck Simon in the back of the head with the butt of my shotgun. His knees buckled and he fell on his face, the floor shaking under his weight. I glanced out the door and saw Taylor lying on his back on my porch, his torso riddled with bullets. I kicked the door shut and pushed the table in front of it.
“Clint, are you okay?” Susan hollered from outside. “What’s going on in there?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I leaned my shotgun against the kitchen counter and bent over to grab Simon by the back of his leather vest. He was heavy—probably just south of two-eighty—and I had to strain to get him to his knees. He was groggy and rubbing his head, but he seemed to know where he was. He sat on his heels and stared up at me, hate in his eyes. “I’m going to kill you, pig!”
I jerked my pistol from its holster and pushed it against his forehead. My hand shook as I applied pressure to the trigger. “Simon Parker, I’m going to—”
“Going to what, pig? Murder me in cold blood?” Simon grinned and shoved his tongue through the gap where his two front teeth used to be. “You don’t have the balls!”
I cocked my head sideways and frowned. “I thought you had one missing tooth.”
Simon spat on the floor at my feet. “That blonde bitch of a pig you got working for you knocked the other one out.” His scowl turned to a smile and he licked his lips. “But I’ll be seeing her real soon.”
I tapped his forehead with the muzzle of my pistol. It was my turn to smile. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation you’re in.”
Simon shrugged. “So I’m going to prison again. Big deal. I’ve been to prison a bunch of times, but I always get out. And when I do, I’m coming—”
In one deft motion, Simon knocked my pistol away from his forehead with his left hand and wrapped his right arm around the back of my legs. He threw his shoulder into my knees and knocked me onto my back. I was caught off guard and my pistol went off when I crashed into the floor, but the bullet impacted the ceiling harmlessly.
Simon reared up and brought his right fist crashing down onto my face, splitting my brow open. Blood gushed down my face. I tried to blink it away, but there was too much of it. Through a blur, I sa
w him raise his fist into the air again. I quickly reached up with my left hand and shoved my thumb as far into his left eye socket as I could. Grunting like an animal, I tried to push his eyeball out the back of his head.
Simon squealed in pain and clutched at my hand with both of his. I hooked my left leg around his right leg and kneed him in the ribs with my right leg. At the same time, and using his right eye socket as a handle, I pulled his head toward the left while smashing my pistol into his temple, sweeping him off of me. Now on top of him, I slowly returned the muzzle of my pistol to his forehead.
Susan and Melvin continued calling from outside, demanding to know what was going on. I knew it was only a matter of time before they kicked the door down and came in to arrest Simon.
“Simon Parker, you murdered my wife and my little girl,” I said slowly. Although I was the one speaking, it sounded like someone else’s voice.
Simon’s hand was covering his right eye, but his left eye grew wide and he lay still. I thought I detected a shiver in his bottom lip.
“You also killed my girlfriend, the mayor and his wife, Seth, and Nate.” I gritted my teeth and nodded. “For all of that, you have to pay with your life.”
“What in hell’s name are you talking about? You can’t kill me.” Simon’s voice was trembling. “You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake! That would be murder.”
“You broke into my house to kill me, Simon,” I said coldly. “I can do whatever the hell I want with you. I own your ass.”
Simon stammered, desperately searching for words to get him out of his predicament. Finally, he resorted to begging. “Please, officer…I beg you. I’m sorry for what I did. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time. I swear it! I’ll even plead guilty if you take me in—to all of it. I don’t want to die. I want to live. My dad was killed by a cop and it ruined our lives. I don’t want to be like my father. I want to be different—”
I shoved the muzzle of my pistol deep into his mouth to shut him up. The blood rushed to my head as I remembered the desperation I’d felt that evening three years ago as I begged for Abigail’s life. Now here he was begging for his own life. He had shown no mercy to my innocent baby girl, and now he expected me to show him mercy. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the muzzle deeper into his throat, wanting to push it through to his brain stem.