Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

  “Amy’s right. Don’t fight the nervousness or the fear. Accept it and feel it coursing through your body. Let it flow. If you try to stifle it, you’ll only feel more anxious and distracted and you could make a mistake.” I walked to my office and they followed. I removed the town map from where it was pinned on my wall and laid it on my desk. “Melvin, show me where this camp is located.”

  Melvin traced his finger along Bayou Tail showing how the waterway flowed along the northern end of town, and then cut back across the northeast corner of town and continued south. Seeing it on a map gave me a better perspective and I realized Bayou Tail rested on top of the town like a giant upside-down horseshoe.

  “You see this northeast corner of town?” Melvin asked.

  I nodded.

  “Bayou Tail cuts it off from the rest of us except for this tiny pontoon bridge.” He pointed to the bridge. “These people act like they’re in their own world. When we have curfews for hurricanes or other natural disasters, they ignore the order and roam the streets. They think the law doesn’t apply to them.”

  “Will we have to worry about them while we’re trying to apprehend Daniels?” I asked.

  “We shouldn’t,” Melvin said. “They usually just gather around and watch when we have to handle stuff back there.”

  Melvin pointed to the road that paralleled Bayou Tail to the East. “This road is called East Bayou Lane and it ends to the north right here.” He stabbed at the map where the road ended, and then slid his finger to the right. “And that’s where North Camp is located. It’s an old hunting camp that’s been abandoned for years. It doesn’t have a legal address, so that’s probably why nothing showed up on our computers.”

  William, who had walked around my desk and was seated in front of my computer, called us over. “Look, I pulled up the old camp on the satellite map. You can see it clear as day.”

  I stepped behind him and looked over his shoulder. The camp was centered on a small patch of land that was surrounded on all sides by trees. A small dirt path cut through the trees at the very end of East Bayou Lane and served as the driveway. There was a narrow canal that flowed off of Bayou Tail to the south of the camp. I pointed to the part of East Bayou Lane that flowed over the canal. “Is this a bridge?”

  Melvin nodded. “It’s a stationary bridge. It doesn’t open or anything.”

  “There’s no way we get a car across that bridge without the Daniels brothers hearing us.” I examined the area south of the canal. It was also covered in trees. “Do y’all think the canal is small enough to jump over or shallow enough to wade across?”

  Melvin shook his head. “We’d need a boat of some type—a pirogue or canoe would do. I can get my truck and throw my pirogue in the back of it.”

  “William, follow Melvin. When y’all get his pirogue, meet Amy and me by this old barn.” I tapped a barn-looking building one street over from the canal. There was a large shell parking lot in front of it and a row of houses north of it that would conceal our vehicles.

  CHAPTER 43

  I parked the Tahoe in front of the old barn and Amy and I dismounted quietly. Amy walked around and met me on the driver’s side of the SUV, waiting while I grabbed my gear. I handed her my sniper rifle. “You ever shot a scoped rifle before?”

  She nodded. “I killed my first deer when I was twelve.”

  “You murdered Bambi?”

  “And ate him.”

  “Very well. It’s got a hair trigger, so be soft with it.” I slung my AR-15 over my shoulder and pushed my door until it clicked shut. I turned the volume on my police radio down and Amy did the same. I looked at her, nodded. We crossed the street and ducked between two trailers, eased to the far end, and crouched, scanning the tree line ahead of us.

  “The canal is directly on the other side of those trees,” Amy whispered. “Once we make it across that clearing we’ll be home—”

  “Hey, what the hell are y’all doing next to my house?” called a raspy voice.

  I spun and saw a grotesque hairy belly coming toward us. Above the belly, there was a saturated shirt that was too short and probably three sizes too small for the figure it clothed. When the man who owned the belly saw my rifle, he stumbled back, stammered. “I…I…didn’t…I didn’t mean anything by it. Carry on. I didn’t see anything.”

  “Sorry we startled you.” I pointed to the badge on my chest. “We received word that a murder suspect is possibly holed up in that camp.”

  The man grunted, his belly jiggling with the movement. “That explains it, then.”

  “Explains what?” I asked.

  “The wife swore she heard some gunshots the other night. Woke me up and tried to make me go see what was going on. I told her it was hunters, but she says it didn’t sound like no normal hunting guns.” He scratched a patch of stubble on his chin. “Glad I didn’t get myself up and go look.”

  “What day was it?” I asked.

  “Um…” The man’s face contorted in thought. “I don’t remember the day, but I’d say it was between two o’clock and two-thirty in the morning.”

  Just then, Melvin and William appeared behind the man and they were carrying a pirogue. The man moved aside to let them pass, asked, “Is it dangerous to be out here right now?”

  “Deadly dangerous,” Amy said, hoisting the sniper rifle in her hands.

  The man gulped and stumbled backward, then turned and hurried up the shaky and cracked concrete steps that led to his back door.

  “Amy, drop prone and cover us with the rifle,” I said. “When we make it to the canal, we’ll cover your approach.”

  Amy responded by dropping to her belly. She flipped the scope caps up and the bipod down as though she’d done it before, and pulled the rifle into the pocket of her shoulder. After staring through the scope for about a minute, she gave the thumbs up. “I’ve got an eye on the back of the house.” Her voice was muffled from her cheek being smashed up against the stock weld. “No signs of life.”

  I turned to Melvin and William. “Stay directly behind me. If something happens, drop the pirogue and get back to Amy as quickly as y’all can.”

  “What about you?” Melvin wanted to know.

  “I’ll cover your backside.” Without waiting for him to protest, I crouched low and shuffled across the ankle high grass of the open field. The sun was relentless. Sweat poured into my eyes, making it difficult to penetrate the dark depths of the trees that lay about fifty yards ahead of me. I blinked the moisture away, held my rifle at the ready as I cleared the distance in rapid fashion. When I reached the first tree, I squatted beside it and listened. The only sound I heard was Melvin and William’s boots brushing the ground as they carried the wooden pirogue to where I waited. I studied every bush in the area, but they all looked real.

  Melvin touched my shoulder, his breath labored. “We’re here. What next?”

  I turned and waved for Amy to join us. She scrambled to her feet and cleared the distance in seconds. When we were all together, we moved to the edge of the canal and spread out, leaving the pirogue on land.

  “Let’s watch for a while,” I whispered to Amy, who was several feet to my right. She passed the message on to Melvin who passed it to William. The camp was situated with the front facing the driveway and the back facing us. There was no sign of movement from inside or the surrounding property; no noise whatsoever. Not a peep. I began to wonder if something was amiss. What if this is a trap? Or a ploy to get us away from the station? I suddenly felt a chill reverberate up and down my spine. We were here on the word of J-Rock and Neal Barlow—two criminals.

  I silently cursed myself for not thinking this over better. If someone did want to attack the station, this would be the perfect time. Trap or not, I needed to get in that house and find out if they were really there. I studied the canal. It was wider than it had looked on the map and I wondered how much noise we would make getting the pirogue into the water.

  I sidled over to where Melvin squatted. “Ca
n we get the pirogue in the water without making much noise?”

  He nodded, waved for William to help. They lifted the wooden boat from the ground and eased it into the water. Save for a tiny ripple and a rub here and there, they didn’t make a sound. I handed Melvin my rifle. “Y’all cover me.”

  Melvin shook his head, handed the rifle to William. “I’m coming with you.”

  I didn’t have time to argue, so I only nodded. Holding on to a low-lying tree branch, I put one foot in the pirogue and eased my weight onto it. The boat sank precariously low when I placed my other foot inside and let go of the branch, but it held me. Holding my arms out for balance, I took a series of tiny steps forward until I was at the front, and then slid to my knees.

  The pirogue rocked violently when Melvin added his weight and water splashed over the sides. I sucked air, gripped the sides, but the rocking didn’t last long. Once it had leveled out, William gave us a shove and the pirogue glided across the canal. When we neared the opposite bank, Melvin dipped a paddle into the water and slowed our approach. The front of the pirogue stabbed the soft mud and we lurched forward when it stopped abruptly.

  Melvin shoved the paddle deep into the muddy bottom of the canal, whispered, “Chief, I’ll hold it in place so you can get out.”

  I nodded and tight-roped it to the front tip of the pirogue and took a careful step onto the ground, and then another. I turned and held onto the pirogue so Melvin could make his exit. I glanced over my shoulder toward the house as we pulled the pirogue onto land, but all was deathly quiet.

  Careful not to step on small twigs or dry leaves, we crept through the patch of trees until we reached the edge of the clearing. I took up a position behind a young oak tree and drew my pistol. I heard Melvin do the same.

  I leaned to my right and studied the house. There were no windows at the back of the camp, just two entrances—both of them outfitted with screen doors. Five square posts supported an overhang that jutted from the structure. Beneath the overhang was a dried patch of dirt littered with tall weeds. The faded green paint was chipped something awful.

  Melvin’s arm appeared next to my face, pointing. “Look!” he hissed. “It’s the green Thunderbird!”

  My heart raced. This was really it. “Okay, we know he’s here.” I pointed. “We’re going to sneak to the back of the house and have a look around. You keep your gun trained on the door to the left and I’ll keep mine on the door to the right. If anything moves, shoot it.”

  “But, what if—”

  “Don’t hesitate and don’t think about it. If something—anything—moves in that doorway, you light its ass up…you hear?”

  Melvin nodded—eyes wide and beads of sweat pouring freely down his face. “Got it.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Before we left the safety of the tree, I waved my hand back toward Amy and William. Although it was difficult to see them hidden behind the trees, I made out Amy’s hand waving back to let me know she was covering us. Adrenalin coursed like acid through my veins. My thoughts went to Michele, Abigail, and Chloe. When this was over, I’d be seeing either Michele and Abigail or Chloe—of this much I was certain. I took a deep breath before entering the emptiness between the tree line and the house. We would be vulnerable out in the open, but it was the only way to get to the house. “Melvin, stay directly behind me.”

  I inched out of the shade and into the direct sunlight, paused. Both eyes were open wide to take in the entire area, but they were focused primarily on the door to the right and secondarily on the front sight of my pistol. If shooting broke out, that would change and my primary focus would be on the front sight.

  There was no noise or movement in response to revealing myself, so I took another cautious step forward…and then another…and another. The sun’s fiery rays beat down on my exposed skin. An occasional fly buzzed by my ear and I flinched each time, expecting to be impaled by a red arrow. Sweat ran down the center of my back, beneath the restricting body armor. But I pushed forward, moving steadily until I reached the shade of the overhang. I stopped, crouched near one of the square posts, listening. Nothing…not a sound.

  Melvin had taken a position to my left near one of the other posts. He waved his hand to let me know he was ready. I dropped prone and low-crawled toward the door near Melvin. Patches of tall weeds rubbed against my face and arms, causing them to itch. I resisted the urge to scratch.

  When I got close to the door, I rolled onto my back and sidled up against the house. I glanced at Melvin and made a motion to let him know I was about to open the door. He nodded, took up an aggressive kneeling position, and aimed his pistol at the doorway.

  Holding my breath, I reached up with my left hand and slowly pulled on the screen door. My pistol was poised in my right hand, ready to destroy anything that moved. The hinges squeaked. I froze, listened. I could hear nothing over the sound of my heartbeat. I shifted my eyes to Melvin. He gave the thumbs up. I continued to pull the door open an inch at a time—pausing after each inch to listen—until it was wide enough for me to fit through.

  I motioned with my head for Melvin to move forward. He scooted across the ground on his knees and left hand, keeping his pistol pointed at the door with his right hand. When he reached me, he shoved his left boot against the screen door to hold it in place.

  I slowly released my grip on the screen door and rolled to my hands and knees. I pointed, whispered, “I’m going inside. Stay out here and don’t come inside until I call you.”

  Melvin’s gun hand trembled. He nodded, swallowing hard.

  I rose to a crouch and crept up the shallow steps. The doorway was a dangerous place to be, so I didn’t stay there long. I slammed my shoulder into the flimsy wooden door and it flung open. I darted into the room as quietly as I could, hugging the wall. I found myself in a kitchen that opened to a living room. I paused, listening to see if the noise had attracted any attention. Nothing.

  I moved forward until I reached the wall to the left and then continued along a bank of cabinets, scanning the area as I walked. There was no sign of life, but at least two window units were buzzing steadily, pushing ice-cold air into the small structure.

  When I reached the wall at the end of the cabinets, I moved to the right along it until I came to the living room opening. I squatted there, peeked around the wall. I could see a lounge chair and the back of a sofa. There was a door to the right in the living room, but it was closed. I planted my right foot out to maintain my balance, quickly peeked around the wall, and to the left, jerked my head back. There was nothing but a dark hallway. I stuck my head out slower the second time and peered down the hall. A closed door at the end looked to be a closet, two closed doors on the opposite side of the wall were probably bedrooms, and the only door on my side of the wall was open. I craned my neck to see better and realized it was a bathroom.

  I heard a noise behind me and looked to see Melvin following the same path I had taken. When he reached me, he plopped down on his knees, panting. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you do this alone.” He shuddered. “It’s freezing in here.”

  I nodded, pointed down the hall on the left. “Cover that area while I check the room to the right.”

  Melvin gripped his revolver with both hands and aimed it down the hallway. I turned toward the closed door on the right side of the living room and took my time getting to it, rolling my feet from heel-to-toe, slowly transferring my weight so as not to cause the floor to creak. Once I reached the door, I glanced over my shoulder at Melvin. He was focused like a laser beam on the hallway.

  Redirecting my attention to the room and making sure I wasn’t standing directly in front of the door, I took the knob in my left hand and turned it softly. It moved without making a sound. I continued turning until I met with resistance and paused, my trigger finger tense. I counted to myself. When I reached three, I pushed the door open and dropped to my knee. I started to sweep the room with my pistol when a pungent odor stopped me in my tracks. I resisted the u
rge to gag, immediately recognized the smell.

  I inched upward and the figure on top of the bed came into view a little at a time. It was hard to distinguish his facial features in the dim light. I surveyed the floor before I stepped closer, but didn’t locate any evidence. I lowered my gun.

  When I reached the side of the bed, I leaned over and examined him closer, checked for rigor. It was present. Dried blood was painted in streaks over his plump face and an arrow was buried deep in his head. I fished out my phone and activated the light on it. It was Farrell Daniels and he’d been shot at close range. Poor bastard didn’t know what hit him, I said to myself. He still thinks he’s sleeping.

  I quickly examined the rest of the room, wondering why Gregg Daniels would kill his own brother. Maybe he was afraid Farrell would turn him in?

  My pistol poised in my hand, I made my way back to Melvin, who looked up with a curious expression on his face. I eased past him and indicated with my head that I was about to enter the next room. He re-gripped his pistol and nodded his understanding. Moving to the first door down the hall, I turned the knob and gently pushed it open, ready for anything. A putrid odor floated on the cold air and greeted us like a bad mother-in-law.

  Melvin scrunched his face, whispered, “Is that smell what I think it is?”

  I nodded and entered the room, finding another man dead inside. Based on the picture I’d seen earlier, this man was Howard Daniels and he’d met with the same fate as Farrell—a red arrow through the head. But why would Gregg Daniels murder his own flesh and blood while they slept? Had they found out what he was doing and objected to it?

  I waved for Melvin to enter and his eyes widened when he saw the dead man. “Oh, shit! Did Gregg Daniels do this?”

  I pushed a finger to my lips. “Keep your eyes peeled. He has to be around here somewhere, and we’re running out of places to look.”