Hollow Bond (A Magnolia Parish Mystery Book 2)

by BJ Bourg

  The parking lot was especially crowded that morning. Sheriff Burke’s blacked out Tahoe was parked in the spot reserved for him. Even Captain Theriot’s Crown Vic was there, and he was never early.

  I punched my code into the security pad and pulled the door open. Stifling a yawn, I walked to the cubicle that I rarely used and threw my keys on the desk. Dawn was already there and was bent over her keyboard. I glanced at my phone. It was seven forty-five.

  “It sucks driving all the way up here first thing in the morning,” I said.

  Dawn looked up and smiled her acknowledgment, her brown eyes sparkling against the colored eyeliner she wore. It was a rare day that she wore makeup and I said so.

  “Yeah, well, I see you buttoned the top button,” she returned.

  I slipped a finger between the constricting collar and my neck and tried to wriggle an extra centimeter of breathing room. I looked around at the empty bureau. “Where’s everyone?”

  “They’re in the kitchen kissing the sheriff’s ass. Get this; Captain Theriot brought in two boxes of donuts—big boxes! There must’ve been two dozen in each box. He also bought two gallons of milk.”

  I smirked. “Suck-ass.”

  “That’s what I thought. When has he ever brought donuts for us?” She shook her head, got up and walked to the community printer that was perched on a small table against the outermost wall of the cubicles. She returned with a three-page report and asked me to review it for the meeting.

  I sat at the edge of her desk and read over it. I was conscious of her probing eyes on mine, trying to detect even the faintest hint of approval or disapproval. I maintained my best poker face, even though I didn’t know how to play the game. When I’d flipped to the last page, I turned it over as though searching for more, and then glanced down at her. “Is this it?”

  A look of concern spread across her face. “Oh...um, did I forget something?”

  I held my expression for a full second, then laughed.

  She jumped to her feet and punched me lightly in the gut. She gasped, pulled her hand back to rub her fist, and then ran her fingers across my torso. “Damn, your stomach’s hard!”

  I shivered as her fingers slid gingerly across the front of my shirt, blushed. “It’s nothing.”

  “Bullshit! It feels like a rock.” She punched at it again and stared in awe. “How do you do that?”

  “A lot of medicine ball work.”

  “A medicine ball? Do you have to get a script for that?”

  “It’s a big leather ball that weighs about twenty pounds. I take it and slam it into my stomach to toughen it up. It helps prepare my body for absorbing punches.”

  Dawn scowled. “Why in the world do they call it a medicine ball? It sounds more like a wrecking ball.”

  “Good point. I don’t know why—”

  “Brandon, Dawn!” Captain Theriot’s voice boomed from the doorway that led to the large conference room, which was situated between the patrol division and the detective division. “Y’all back there?”

  “Yes,” we called in unison.

  “Well, let’s go, kids. We don’t want to keep the sheriff waiting. He’s a busy man.”

  I felt my blood boil. He was the most indecisive and laziest person I knew...until the sheriff showed up. That was when he wanted to sound like a leader. His condescending demeanor always rubbed me raw and I started to respond, but Dawn placed a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m really getting sick of his shit.”

  “I know, so am I.” She adjusted my tie, nodded. “Just wait until after the press conference to kick his ass. You don’t want to get blood on this nice tie.”

  I chuckled and took a deep breath. I didn’t know what it was about her, but she’d always had a way of calming me down. “No blood until after the press conference...got it!”

  CHAPTER 14

  We walked into the conference room where the other six detectives sat around the large conference table. True to the stereotype, they were stuffing their faces with donuts and milk, or coffee. They talked in muffled voices as they ate, unaware that we had entered. Sheriff Burke sat at the head of the table on our left and Captain Theriot sat as close to him as he could without being in his lap.

  Theriot wore a white button-up shirt with the top three buttons open, exposing a tuft of black and gray hair. He was chewing on a donut and, from the size of his puffy cheeks, I guessed he’d shoved the entire thing in his mouth. White powder clung to his lips, chin, and fingers. When he had swallowed, he took one large finger at a time and licked the white powder from it.

  “That’s just gross,” Dawn said quietly to me as we approached the table. “Can you hit him now to make it stop?”

  Sheriff Burke noticed our arrival and quickly stood. He extended his hand first to Dawn, and then to me. “I want to personally thank y’all for staying out all weekend to work on this case, especially since the original scene was out of your area.” He then turned to the other detectives. “Everyone ready to proceed with the meeting?”

  The detectives nodded and a hushed silence came over the room. We passed copies of Dawn’s synopsis around the table and then took seats beside each other.

  Captain Theriot cleared his throat and began speaking. “Sheriff, what we have are three people, an entire family, missing and their house burned nearly to the ground. We’re thinking this is the work of a ruthless drug gang. After we do some digging, we’ll probably discover that the husband or wife was in some way involved in selling drugs. They had a nice house in an expensive neighborhood and drug dealing might explain how they were able to pay for it.”

  I leaned forward. “Sheriff, if I could?”

  “Absolutely,” Sheriff Burke said. “It’s your case.”

  “We’re not positive, but there’s a good chance the couple found off of Route Twenty-Three is Bill and Janice Prince. The evidence will be submitted today and we’ll know for sure once the DNA results are in. If they’re the Princes, they have no family here. All we know at the moment is that Bill works for Bailey Oil. He’s an executive there, so,”—I glanced at Captain Theriot—“that would explain the nice house in the nice neighborhood.”

  “Do you think this could be retaliation against the oil companies because of the disaster?” asked Detective Lieutenant Corey Chiasson.

  “That’s certainly something we can’t rule out at this point,” I explained, “but I think it’s unlikely. We’re on the outer edges of the disaster and things are improving by leaps and bounds. I think any retaliation would’ve taken place back when it first happened and when people were first starting to lose everything.”

  “Yeah,” Sheriff Burke agreed. “You’re right.”

  We had all seen the news accounts of how the Magnolia Parish Government was in the process of lifting the fishing ban on a number of lakes in the area, including Lake Bentley, and ninety-eight percent of all claims had been paid. With everything on the upswing, it didn’t make sense that someone would retaliate against an oil company executive and his family that late in the game. Besides, most of the people who were negatively affected were hard-working people—not child murderers.

  “We can only speculate at this point,” I said, “and until we know more about the couple, it’s anyone’s guess why someone would attack them in their home, steal their baby, and set fire to their house. As for the suspects, we only know that they were white and there were two of them.”

  “How do you know that?” Theriot demanded. “I thought the woman couldn’t speak when y’all found her and then she passed out.”

  “I had a Q and B session with her before she became unresponsive.”

  “What is Q and B?” Theriot wanted to know.

  “Question and Blink,” I replied flatly. One of the detectives chuckled and Theriot glared in her direction.

  Dawn and I had decided to keep our boyfriend theory to ourselves, so I wrapped up my part, turned to her and nodded.

  She made some ch
eck marks on her copy of the synopsis and looked up. “According to the autopsy,” she began, “Mr. Doe was beaten severely and that’s what caused his death. As Brandon mentioned, it’s anybody’s guess why someone would want to do this.”

  “It’s more likely than not a robbery,” Captain Theriot said. “People burn houses and cars all the time to cover-up robberies.”

  “We recovered a safe from the master bedroom closet,” Dawn countered. “It was in plain sight and hadn’t been tampered with. If it was a robbery I think they would’ve taken the safe.”

  “Do we know anything else at this point?” Sheriff Burke asked.

  Dawn and I exchanged glances, shook our heads.

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” Dawn said. “I called the hospital this morning and our Mrs. Doe made it through the night. The sooner she wakes up, the sooner we can get some straight answers.”

  Burke drummed his ink pen on the table as he pondered this. “I have a press conference this morning. How do I present this to the media?”

  “I wouldn’t tell them anything,” Theriot said. “If you say the wrong thing it could come back to haunt you later.”

  “I disagree,” I said. “I think you should tell them the baby is missing and the man was brutally killed. Say that we’re investigating it as a first degree murder and we’ll push for the death penalty when we find the persons responsible. You should then make your usual statement about anyone with information contacting us.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” Theriot scoffed. “Without knowing the facts of the case, there’s no way we can know they’ll get the death penalty.”

  “Without knowing the facts of the case, there’s no way we can say they won’t get the death penalty.” I pointed my finger at Sheriff Burke. “If you start talking about your office not resting until we catch these bastards and if you forcefully say that everyone involved will be put to death, they’re going to start shitting on themselves. Usually the one with the least amount of culpability will come forward and beg for a deal. Even if they’re all equally involved, they won’t hesitate to point the finger at the others to save their own skin. All we need is a crack in their door and we’ll be able to force our way inside.”

  Captain Theriot waved a hand dismissively. “That’ll never work.”

  “I don’t know,” Sheriff Burke said. “I think I like it.”

  “We have nothing to lose,” Dawn pressed, “and everything to gain if it works.”

  “Also,” I added, “I would say that the female survived and is cooperating with the investigation.”

  “That’s an outright lie!” Theriot exclaimed.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not. She did survive and she did cooperate. We learned from her that two white males were involved. No one needs to know how much she told us and they don’t need to know that she’s in a coma.”

  Sheriff Burke pursed his lips, nodded. “I like it, all of it. That’s what I’ll do.”

  Captain Theriot glowered at me from across the table. I met his stare and held it until he looked away. I then turned to Dawn. “Ready to get back to work? We need to find someone—”

  “Not so fast,” Sheriff Burke said. “I want you two standing next to me during the press conference. I know y’all have a lot to do and I know y’all don’t like this sort of thing, but it’s important that the public see the faces of the brave men and women who are dedicating their time and energy on these serious cases. I’ll tell the reporters to keep it brief.”

  I glanced at Dawn and shrugged. “I tried.”

  She winked at me. “It won’t be so bad.”

  Sheriff Burke turned to Captain Theriot. “While Brandon and Dawn try to develop a suspect, I want three teams of one detective and one juvenile officer working around the clock to locate the baby. Begin by having them canvas every neighborhood in the southern part of the parish and work their way north. If they develop any leads at all, I want them getting with Brandon and Dawn immediately so they can move on it. They’re lead on the case, so I want everything funneled through them.”

  “When you say you want them to canvas every neighborhood, do you mean—?”

  “When I say every neighborhood, I mean every single neighborhood in the parish,” Burke said in a stern voice. “All of them!”

  “Yes, sir.” Captain Theriot forced a cooperative nod.

  Dawn and I left the conference room and walked to the evidence section. Christy Howard, the evidence custodian, sat at her desk staring down at the stack of evidence cards that we’d left in her box over the weekend. She looked up when we approached the half-door that separated her office from the processing area where the lockers were located. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes and feigned anger. “Y’all are the last people I want to see right now. Get out!”

  I smiled. “Sorry, but I tried to tell Dawn we didn’t need all of that evidence.”

  “Job security,” Dawn said. “You’re welcome.”

  Christy placed the evidence forms aside, stood, and walked to the half door. “At least I didn’t have to work my entire weekend like y’all did. What can I do for y’all?”

  “I have a big favor to ask.” Dawn handed Christy a list of all the evidence we’d recovered. Some of the items were highlighted in orange. “We need everything worked as usual, but we need all the highlighted items sent to the lab as soon as possible, and they need to be compared against these...” Dawn handed Christy a copy of the evidence cards for Mr. and Mrs. Doe’s blood samples. “We need the lab to extract DNA from the toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and that electric shaver we recovered from the burned house. Once they do that, we need them to compare it to the blood we recovered from our beating victims.”

  Christy promised to make an emergency appointment with the lab and get them to expedite the testing.

  Next, we returned to our cubicles and waited for the Sheriff to call us to the press conference.

  “We need to go out and canvas the Lakeview neighborhood,” Dawn said.

  I was perusing the complaints database in search of anything that might be connected to our case, and didn’t look up. “I thought Lieutenant Marshall and his guys did that already.”

  “They left this in my box.” Dawn dropped a single sheet of loose-leaf paper on my keyboard. “There’s only one address on it, and that’s from the woman who called it in. They didn’t even get her name.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Lakeview Court, Southern Magnolia Parish

  I parked my cruiser in Janice Prince’s driveway and we stepped out. Notebooks and pens in hand, we walked toward the back of the winding street, knocked on every door on the lake side of the street. All of the houses on that side were abandoned except for one. It was the second to last house and it was a large two-story brick home with a three-car garage. A short plump lady answered the door.

  “Can I help y’all?” she asked, eyeing us with suspicion.

  I showed her my badge and introduced us. “We’re investigating the incident over at the Prince home. Can I have your name?”

  The lady wrung her hands, stared from me to Dawn. “Um, I’m Gwen...Gwen Landry.”

  “Did you know Bill and Janice?” Dawn asked in a soothing voice.

  The lady nodded nervously. “I was friends with Janice. I babysat Shelby for her sometimes. You know, just every now and then, when she needed a little time to herself.”

  “Shelby?” Dawn asked. “Was that the baby’s name?”

  Tears welled up in Gwen Landry’s face and spilled down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Yes,” she said through sobs. “Shelby...Shelby is Janice’s baby. She’s such a sweet little girl. An angel. How could someone do this to them? I heard they burned her alive. I just can’t fathom how someone could do something so horrible to an innocent child of God.”

  Dawn put an arm around Gwen’s shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s okay, ma’am. First off, Shelby wasn’t burned.”

  Gwen’s eyes widened. “She wasn�
��t?”

  “No, ma’am, but she is missing and we’re going to find her and bring her home, and we’re going to catch the persons responsible, but we can’t do that without your help.”

  The lady broke into sobs of relief and Dawn had to hold her upright so she wouldn’t fall over. After several long minutes of consoling her—during which I thought we might have to call for an ambulance—Dawn finally had her calm enough to speak again.

  “Okay,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

  “Do you know anyone who might have a beef with them?” Dawn asked. “Any enemies?”

  Gwen Landry shook her head. “They were good people. They never hurt anyone.”

  “How long have you known them?”

  “Since they moved here about three and a half years ago. It was only Bill and Janice at that time. Shelby wasn’t born until December of last year. She was a Christmas baby.”

  Dawn glanced down at her notes. “So, she was about seven months old?”

  Gwen nodded.

  “Where’d they work?” I asked.

  “Bill worked for Bailey Oil. That’s why they moved here. He used to work offshore for them when they lived in Arkansas. He would work fourteen days and then go back home for seven, but then he got promoted to an office job and had to be here every day, so they moved here.”

  “What about Janice?” I asked. “Where did she work?”

  “She didn’t work. She was a homemaker—and a good one, at that.”

  “When was the last time you talked to Janice or babysat Shelby?” Dawn asked.

  “It’s been about a month since I last babysat Shelby, but I saw them Friday afternoon, about four o’clock.”

  “Where’d you see them?” I wanted to know.

  “I was heading up the street to go to the store for some eggs and milk and I met Janice coming down the street. I stopped and we talked for a little while. She said they were coming back from Seasville Groceries and More. Shelby was with her. She was strapped in her car seat in the back, like she always was when they went places.”