by BJ Bourg
Mayor Landry folded his arms across his chest—they seemed to rest naturally on his protruding gut—and leaned back, his chair squeaking in protest. “There’s a reason he’s no longer chief of police in my town.”
“I didn’t realize he was the former chief of police until he said so.”
Landry sighed. “I guess I should’ve warned you about him. I just didn’t think you’d run into him as soon as you did.”
“Why’d you let him go?”
“He was a corrupt cop, and I fired him. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing’s ever that simple. What’d he do?”
Mayor Landry allowed his arms to drift down toward his desk, as he shrugged. “I had gotten some complaints from a few out-of-towners that he was shaking them down during traffic stops. He’d stop them for a simple violation and then tell them he’d let them go if they paid a hefty fine on the spot and in cash.”
“Did you investigate the allegations?”
“Well, I didn’t have anyone with your background to turn to, so I called him in and asked him if he did it. Of course, he—”
“Came right out and admitted it and you fired him.” I shook my head. “You never call suspects in and ask them if they did it. They’ll deny it every time.”
Mayor Landry threw up his hands. “I’m a politician, not a cop. Give me a break.” We both laughed, and he continued, “About a week later, this article comes out in the local paper accusing Beaver of shaking down drivers and accusing me of covering it up. I had no choice at that point. It was an election year and my opponent was about to grab it and ride that pony into the ground. I fired Beaver.”
I scowled. “Fired? Why wasn’t he arrested?”
“Like I said, I didn’t have anyone who could investigate it properly. There was no evidence—just a few unsubstantiated complaints.”
“How many complaints?”
“I don’t know—two, three.”
“You know what they say—where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Mayor Landry nodded. “I took it to the district attorney, but he said there wasn’t enough evidence to pursue criminal charges, so the matter was dropped.”
I was thoughtful for a few moments. If those allegations were true, then Beaver was the worst kind of criminal—the kind who wore a badge. “Look, once we find Dexter and the other end of that arm, I can take a look at that file on Beaver if you like. The statute of limitation on malfeasance in office won’t expire for several more years.”
“Nah, that’s all water under the bridge now. Things are back to normal around here and we finally have a real chief of police, so I’d rather just move forward and keep things positive for our little town.” Mayor Landry stood and nodded. “What I do want is for you to go home for the night and get some rest—it looks like you need it.”
“I need to find Dexter.” I started to walk out the mayor’s office.
“Oh, Clint…”
I turned back to face him.
“Look, you need to be safe out there. If something ever happened to you, it would kill Nick, then he’d kill me for giving you this job…and I’m too young to die.”
“I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t need another man worrying about me. I don’t like it either.”
“Son, you know he can’t help himself. You’re all he’s got left.”
CHAPTER 9
I pulled into the sally port of what would be my new place of business. Susan’s Charger was already there, and I parked beside it. She must have heard me drive up because she came through the back door and waved at me.
When I stepped out, she hollered, “Get in here. I bought you a burger and some fries. Afterward, I’ll show you the prints I lifted. They came out good!”
My stomach growled at the mention of food, and I gratefully followed her through the back door. I had been in the building only twice—Sunday when I rolled into town to meet with Mayor Landry to accept the job and the previous day when I’d received my first call about a dog being eaten by an alligator—and I was a little disoriented when we walked inside. We passed a holding cell to our immediate right and made our way through the processing room. Susan opened the opposite door to the processing center and it led to the patrol room and Lindsey’s desk.
“Ah,” I said. “Now I know where I am.”
Susan pointed to a door located at the far right corner of the room. “Then you should remember that’s your office. I ordered a sign to put on the door in case you ever forget where you belong.”
I smiled my thanks.
Susan waved me by Lindsey, who gawked at my appearance, and then around the corner to the left and down a corridor. “This first door on your right is the interview room,” she explained. “And this next door is the break room.”
I followed her inside, and the sweet scent of grilled onions greeted my nostrils and propelled me forward. “Which one’s mine?”
Susan shrugged. “They’re both the same. Take whichever you like.”
I sat down in front of the burger closest to me, ripped the wrapper open, took a giant bite out of it. I groaned when the mixture of beef, onions, tomatoes, and condiments stroked my taste buds. I chewed for a long moment, savoring the flavor. After I swallowed, I turned to Susan, who hadn’t even freed her burger from the wrapper yet, and said, “This has to be the best burger I’ve ever eaten!”
“The little restaurant at the corner of Main and Kate made them.” Susan finally made it to her burger and took a bite, her eyes half closing as she nodded her agreement. Neither of us spoke another word as we wolfed down our food.
When we were done, I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “Thanks, Susan. You saved my life.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin, smiling a crooked smile. “You’re welcome.”
It was at that moment I realized how attractive she was, even with a mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup plastered on her lower lip. The dime-sized purplish scar near the corner of her left eye added character to a face that was perfectly chiseled. Her eyes were the darkest and most mysterious I’d seen. She squinted as she stared back at me. I looked away, embarrassed. “Um…you have a little ketchup on your face.”
“Oh!” Susan dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “Thanks. I would’ve walked around with that on my face all day.”
After cleaning up my mess, I walked back to Lindsey’s desk. “Where’re William, Melvin, and Jack?”
Lindsey grabbed her dispatcher’s log and pointed to some chicken scratch I couldn’t read. “Melvin went back out on the water. He said you were going to meet him out there later.”
“Who’d he take with him?” I asked.
Lindsey shook her head. “No one.”
I scowled. Although he had been alone when he found me, I didn’t like him being out there without backup. “What about the others?”
“William and Lieutenant Jackson don’t come on duty until six o’clock.”
I looked up when Susan entered the room. “Do we have a boat? I mean, other than the airboat?”
“We do. It’s parked behind the sally port.”
“Can you drive it?”
Susan grinned and a dimple appeared on her upper left cheek. “Can you breathe air?”
I smiled. “We need to get out there and meet up with Melvin.”
“Oh, come see the prints first.” Susan led me to her desk, which was situated against the same wall that Lindsey’s desk was on. She grabbed two index cards that lay face up on her desk and handed them to me. “I’m not sure if they’re dry yet.”
The ridge detail was decent for the partially decomposed hand. “Wow, they came out great.”
“I took my time with it.”
“Does the Chateau Parish Detention Center have an AFIS system?” I asked.
Susan nodded. “They’ll run them for us on the spot. I can take them over if you like.”
“No, you’re coming with me.” I placed the prints on Lindsey’s desk. “When Jack gets in, can you tell him I
said to get these down to the jail as soon as possible and have them run it?”
“Yes, Chief.”
Susan shook an index finger in Lindsey’s direction. “Don’t call him that. He doesn’t like it when people call him Chief. He practically threatened to fire me when I called him that earlier.”
Lindsey sucked her breath. “Oh…I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t threaten to fire anyone!” I laughed. “I just don’t like titles. My first name is still Clint. If it’s good enough for my mom, it’s good enough for me. I don’t need to go changing it now. Oh, and one more thing, Lindsey.”
“Yes…um, Clint?”
“You’ve got it.” I smiled, gave her a nod. “Okay, I’m assuming you haven’t received a missing person’s report in the last few days?”
Lindsey shook her head.
“What about within the last couple of months?”
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a missing person in this town,” Susan said.
“Check with the sheriff’s office and see if they’ve had a white male go missing in recent days.”
Lindsey nodded and jotted more chicken scratch on a yellow notebook.
“If they don’t have any,” I continued, “check with surrounding towns and our neighboring parishes.”
“Okay. I’ll get on this right away.”
Susan pointed to the waistband of my jeans. “Do you need a gun?”
“I have plenty, but I forgot to grab one when I changed. I guess I need to get back into the habit of keeping one with me.”
“You think?” Susan jerked open the top drawer of her desk and pulled out an old.357 revolver. “This used to be my dad’s. You can use it until you get one of your own.”
I took the revolver and opened the cylinder. It was fully loaded. I pushed the cylinder closed, twisted it until it locked in place, and shoved it in the front of my waistband. I nodded my thanks to Susan before I headed for the back door. “Let’s get out there and see if we can find—”
The front door burst open and Officer William Tucker came running in. I glanced at the clock. He was early for his shift. He was out of breath and his eyes were wide. “Chief! You have to come now! They found him!”
“Found who?” Susan and I asked in unison, but William was already heading back out the door.
CHAPTER 10
I jumped in with Susan, and she sped down Main Street following William. It became almost immediately apparent he was leading us toward the boat launch. Sirens pierced our eardrums. Blue lights flashed. I snatched Susan’s radio from its docking station and radioed William to ask who was found. The radio scratched to life, but it wasn’t William—it was Melvin. His voice came through in labored gasps, as though he’d been running. “Chief, I’m heading back to the landing…be there in twenty…need an ambulance.”
“Come back?” I called. “You need an ambulance?”
“Ten-four! I found Dexter Boudreaux. He’s alive, but he’s in bad trouble!”
Duck bumps immediately broke out over my skin. “Come back?” Relief flooded over me. My thoughts went to Mrs. Boudreaux sitting there on her porch, waiting for Dexter to come home like he’d done so many other times throughout their long lives. “Did you say Dexter’s alive?”
“Ten-four, Chief, but not by much.”
I radioed Lindsey and asked her to get an ambulance rolling.
“They’re already en route!” Her voice was laced with excitement.
Just then, Susan jerked the steering wheel hard, and I lurched to the left, almost colliding with her. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping me in place as we swerved right onto Grace Street and then made our way onto Bayou Tail Lane. Shells exploded into the air and peppered the undercarriage when she raced into the boat launch parking lot. She zipped between vehicles until she came to a skidding stop inches from the pier. A cloud of dust quickly caught up to us and enveloped the car and members of the news media who were still camped out at the launch.
I could hear people coughing outside and someone cursed. When the air was clear enough to see again, I stepped out and approached the group of reporters standing on the pier. A few of them were waving the air in front of their faces in order to clear it faster.
“Howdy,” I said. “I’d like to ask all of you to move back away from the pier. We have an injured man coming in and we need to get an ambulance through here.”
“Is it Dexter Boudreaux?” a man at the front of the group asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case.”
The compassionate reporter from earlier pushed her way to the front of the group. “Will the man be okay?”
I looked down at her, and our eyes locked for the second time that day. There was something about her that aroused my curiosity, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. Her press badge said her name was Chloe Rushing.
“Chief?” The freckles on her nose seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. “Will the man be okay?”
“I sure hope so,” was all I muttered. Shells crunched behind me, and I turned to see William pull up in his marked Charger. When he had dismounted, I moved out of earshot of the reporters and waved him over. “Grab some crime scene tape and mark off an area clear of the pier for the reporters to hang out. I don’t want Dexter’s wife seeing him torn to shit on the six o’clock news.”
“Right away, boss.” William ushered the reporters away and set about doing what I’d asked.
I looked over at the reporters one last time and caught another glimpse of Chloe Rushing. She was staring back. I ducked my head, turned away. Sirens moaned in the distance—that long, wailing cry that signaled the approach of the ambulance—and I hurried to the slip where Melvin would be docking the boat soon. Susan was already there, scanning Bayou Tail.
“Do you see anything?” I asked.
“Not yet, but he can’t be far. I can hear the hum of the airboat.”
As though on cue, Melvin rounded the distant bend in the bayou and shot straight toward us. When he got closer, I could see part of a blanket covering a figure that lay on the floor toward the back of the boat. The sirens grew louder, merging with the increasingly loud roar of the airboat engine.
Susan squeezed the back of my arm and hollered, “I’m going guide the ambulance in!”
I only nodded. My heart was pounding. My eyes were fixed on what I could see of the blanket. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans legs. The last time I’d seen Dexter, his arm was in the jowls of that giant alligator. I couldn’t imagine it was still attached. Even if it was, he would have lost so much blood that it might already be too late.
Melvin waved at me to back away as he made his final approach. He gunned the engine and drove the airboat up through the ramp and right onto the parking lot. Shells grated against the hull of the boat. Melvin killed the engine and ripped his earmuffs off, then scrambled to the back of the boat. I jumped over the side of the boat and met him at the back, where we knelt beside the blanketed figure. I paused, straining to see movement from under the blanket—any movement at all.
Melvin knelt on the opposite side of Dexter, looking at me as though waiting for me to make the first move. When he spoke, it was a shaky whisper. “Chief, it ain’t good.”
I took a deep breath, grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled back slowly. When the face beneath the blanket finally came into view, I gasped, inadvertently throwing myself back—it looked like Abigail’s face.
CHAPTER 11
I shook my head and looked again. It was Dexter Boudreaux, but his face was ghostly. His lips were parched from exposure, but were pale. His clothes were tattered, stained from mud and dried blood. His exposed skin had lost all of its color—he’d been nearly drained of blood. I glanced down at his arm and winced. The lower portion of his arm was precariously attached to the upper arm by several strips of ripped skin. Both jagged ends of the broken bone protruded from the mess of torn flesh. I shook my head. His arm hadn’t stood a chance against that monster alligator’s death roll
.
Inspecting farther up Dexter’s arm I saw that his belt was wrapped around the left bicep. It was the only reason he was still alive—although barely. I looked over when I heard Susan yelling commands behind us. She and two paramedics reached the boat and jumped over the side. The paramedics carried a spine board and they all rushed across the hull to where we knelt. I backed away when they arrived to give them room to work.
“Holy shit,” one of them exclaimed when they saw Dexter. “What happened?”
“Alligator attack,” Melvin said.
Susan helped the paramedics position the spine board beside Dexter, and they began digging tools out of their bags. I walked to the edge of the boat, jumped out. I made my way toward a tree at the end of the parking lot. I needed to sit down. I needed shade. As I walked, news reporters rushed past me, but I didn’t even try to stop them. When I reached the tree, I placed it between me and the boat launch. I leaned my back against it, then slid to a seated position. I rested the back of my head against the hard bark and closed my eyes. Abigail’s disfigured face came into view, and I quickly opened my eyes. “Why can’t I see you the way you used to be?”
Something touched my shoulder, and I jerked around. It was Chloe, the reporter. I pushed off the tree and stood on uncertain legs. “Hey, um, what’s up?”
“Are you okay?” she asked. There was an obvious look of concern on her face.
I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Why aren’t you with the others? You’re missing the story.”
“I was worried about you.” Chloe studied my face. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
I hesitated, as I looked toward the boat launch. Susan had things well under control. She guided the medics off the boat with Dexter on the spine board and then helped them place him on a gurney. As the medics strapped Dexter down, Susan addressed the media. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she looked as confident as anyone I’d ever seen. I wondered at that moment why Mayor Landry hadn’t named her the chief of police. She was more than capable of handling anything that would—