by S. L. Hebert
It only takes a couple of minutes after pulling into Logan’s parking lot for her to hurriedly grab her two bags and weasel her way out of my car and damn near sprint to her door. It’s like she can’t get away from me fast enough. Little does she know, I received the hint from her before we left Franklin. I have no intention of pushing myself on her anymore. If she wants me, she’ll have to make the effort. My only goal is to keep her safe and finish closing this case. Everything else, I’ve deemed off limits, no matter how much it’s going to kill me on the inside.
Pulling into the parking garage, I quickly notice there’s a fair number of cars here today. I guess my first entrance back at the office will be somewhat grand. With any luck, I may be able to corner most of the people I need to talk to, then I’ll check to see if the boys will feel like going for drinks tonight after work. Lord knows I could use one...shit, that’s a lie. The way I’m feeling today, I could use a whole six pack or a fifth of something hard and smooth.
I’ve managed to make it from my car to the elevator and up to my floor without running into one person. This is unusual; there are usually at least one or two people coming from one of the offices. Stepping out of the elevator, I head down the quiet hallway, taking a deep breath as I try to mentally prepare myself for dealing with the lieutenant.
As I cross the threshold into the office, the only person I see is Mrs. Laura Landry. I slow my pace of walking almost to a halt until she finally lifts her nose out of the computer and acknowledges me. With a half-fake smile plastered on her face, she says, “Oh, Detective Grasso, so glad to see you made it back. We were all so worried about you and Logan. By the way, where is she?”
Even a deaf man couldn’t have missed the sarcasm in her voice, the tone that lets you know the person is asking a question they already know the answer to but just want to get a rise out of you by asking.
Deciding to take a moment and enlighten Mrs. Landry, in my best passive aggressive manner I answer her, “Don’t you worry your bleached blonde head over it, Laura. Logan will be back here before you know it. It’s no secret she and I have been through a lot with the case, but she’s getting stronger by the day and is managing to do it without a boob job.”
With a look of shock on her face, I suddenly see her for a split-second glance down at her breast implants. Then with a single huff, she puts her nose back in her computer and doesn’t say a word. I, on the other hand, can’t help letting out a chuckle loud enough for her to hear as I turn and head towards my desk. I must say, it felt good to finally give her a taste of her own medicine, if for no other reason but Logan, who Mrs. Laura has been intimidated by since she arrived in the unit.
Sitting at my desk, I see it looks the same as I left it. I silently smile in appreciation for the level of respect my co-workers have for me. Taking a moment to check my computer, I begin surfing through emails and messages, most of which are condolences and well wishes from other co-workers. Everything case related seems to have gone to someone else’s email. I’m assuming the lieutenant since, I’m still considered to be the Lead Detective on the case. Now that I’m back, my first mission is to find where everyone is and get with Lieutenant Clark.
Not even bothering to get up from my desk, I simply call Mrs. Laura on the phone at her desk. It takes only one ring, and I can see her reaching for the phone. As soon as she answers, I say the word, “Hey.” She turns around in her chair and shoots me a scolding glare.
“May I ask why you are calling my phone, Mr. Grasso?”
“Umm, yeah, I was wondering, where is everyone? The parking garage is almost full, which begs the question.”
“Well, if you weren’t so busy being a smart ass earlier; I would have told you, they’re all in a meeting in the conference room on the third floor. It should be just about to end; so sorry you missed it.”
With a devilish little smile that reminds me of an evil troll, she hangs up on me. Placing my hands behind my head, I can’t help leaning back in my chair, trying to contain my rising anger, mainly because part of me knows she’s right, I was acting like a shithead earlier towards her. Thinking on it now, I reluctantly admit to myself that my aggravation was aimed at the wrong female.
Logan
Ah, home sweet home. This place has never looked and felt so good. It’s a slight mess from when I left, but it still feels great to be home all the same. As I sit under the warm shower and allow the water to cascade down my back side, I can’t help recalling the initial feeling I had when I opened my apartment door and dropped my bags in the foyer. Even with being excited about finally being home, I find myself still proceeding with caution, having to keep reminding myself that John is locked up in solitary confinement.
I consider opening my windows to let some fresh air in, then decide against it. I’m not sure how long it will take for me to fully be comfortable in my own apartment again. Now, placing my face in the water as I turn around, I attempt to wash away the weary feeling that keeps trying to creep up from within. It’s the same strange emotions I learned to live with long ago. That was the one good thing about Michael staying with me. Just him being here seemed to put my mind at ease. I allowed myself for the last few months to lean on him, and it appears that time is over. When he dropped me off, I made it a point to say as few words as possible, mainly because I didn’t want to end up in another conversation about us as a couple.
Hauntingly, my memories of my childhood begin to try and surface, causing me to shut off the water and get out of the shower. I swiftly grab the towel hanging on the circled wrought iron towel holder and promptly dry off. It only takes a few seconds to realize I can go back to prancing around in the nude if I like. The thought alone brings a smile to my face.
Wrapping myself in the towel, I head out of the bathroom and straight to the fridge. Taking a long look inside, I notice there are only three beers in the door. Grabbing one with a tinge of disappointment, I contemplate whether I should head to the store or go sit at a bar. After popping the top off and hearing the seal break, I’m suddenly unable to stop the ambush of emotions that roll in. Memories of my best friend Bria trample into my head, and before I can stop my knees from buckling underneath me, I’m on my kitchen tile floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I manage to sit upright with my knees balled up to my chin as I replay over and over in my mind the last night she and I were out and having drinks. Echoes of the sound of her laughter tunnel through my ears, while my eyes envision the way she would give me the side eye from knowing what I was thinking before I would ever say it. All my memories consume me and leave me breathless.
Remaining on the floor, I bow my head in defeat. The burden of guilt now placed upon my soul for her death is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. There is no amount of repenting that will ever undo the damage my choices have created, and no amount of time will ever bring my best friend back. She was taken from me by a man whose only mission is to destroy me. To him, she was simply a pawn in his game.
I can feel my tears starting to dry as they’re replaced with anger and rage. The raw, ugly truth now laid before me. He wants to play, and in an instant my inner being screams out in my head, “Let’s play, motherfucker!”
As I will myself off my floor, I have a newfound purpose to go on. I’m going to play the game, and it doesn’t matter what’s the cost. I owe it to Bria, and if in the end it destroys me, then if nothing else, we’ll be together – since it was me who was supposed to die in the first place.
I quickly down the now hot beer in my hand and head into my room to put on some clothes, opting for jeans, tee shirt, and my combat boots. Looking at the time, I see it’s late in the afternoon. Figuring now is a good a time as any, I promptly dial the lieutenant’s number and wait for him to answer. It only takes two rings, and he’s on the other end of the phone saying, “Why, hello, Logan. I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”
“Sir, I’d like to set up a time for us to meet tomorrow, and I’d like the sheriff to be
a part of the meeting as well.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Logan?”
“I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I’d like to see where I stand with the department. The sooner we get this over with, the better it is for everyone.”
“I figured you were going to be calling eventually. Grasso has been in the office all afternoon, catching up on the case. He mentioned you were home unpacking. I took the liberty of phoning the sheriff earlier after speaking with Grasso, and he’s agreed to meet with you in my office tomorrow at about ten in the morning. I hope this time isn’t going to be a problem for you?”
“No, sir, ten is fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Hey, Logan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make sure you aren’t late. You have no room for error tomorrow with the sheriff.”
“I’ll be on time, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me just yet, Logan. See you in the morning.”
On his final note, I instantly hang up the phone. Without another thought, I grab my purse and head out the door, off to the nearest hole in the wall bar I can find.
It only takes me a few blocks to end up at Hoot Mary Lou’s, located along the bayou side of Main Street. Pulling into the parking lot out front, I find myself shaking my head at the place. There’s absolutely nothing fancy about it; quite the opposite. I swear, if I had to guess, this place is possibly older than me. The irony is that it’s perfect for what I’m looking to do.
Making my way to the front door, I observe the parking lot. It’s an old habit I’m sure I’ll carry with me to my death bed. Even in my casket, I’ll probably sit up and check out the room, taking a mental head count and paying attention to all the details.
Opening the door, I can hear the jukebox playing country music. The place is damn near empty. Suddenly feeling pleased with my choice, I know when I leave here, it’ll be in a taxi. Although I want to get shit-faced drunk, I don’t want to be reason for taking someone else’s life by drinking and driving.
Purposely, I take a seat at the far end of the bar, where I can monitor the doorway, placing my back towards the wall. I motion with my hand to the bartender, who’s filling the ice bin. She appears to be in her late fifties and a little on the frail side.
“What can I get for you, honey?”
“I’d like a rum and diet soda, with a shot of tequila on the side.”
The little lady tilts her head sideways and states, “You’re starting off hard tonight? You may want to pace yourself.”
Making sure to keep the salty tone out of my voice, I try to give her a simple answer. “I’ve been having a rough go at it lately, and I’ve come here to be alone and drink my cares away. Don’t worry, I’ll be taking a taxi home when I’m ready to leave.”
“I won’t pry, but in case you aren’t aware, José isn’t someone you want to play around with.”
With an arch of my eyebrow, I can’t help asking, “José?”
“Yeah, honey, José. You know, the tequila you just ordered. I’ve seen many men and woman come in here and start drinking him, and by the end of the night they think they’re ten feet tall and bulletproof. All I’m saying is, pace yourself and be careful.”
Not giving what she said a second thought, I plainly say, “Thanks for the heads up,” and then downed my shot, followed by a swig of my rum and soda.
To help pass the time, I scroll through my phone. To my surprise, I have no missed calls from Michael. I’m not expecting any from my mom; as of now, she doesn’t even know I’m back in town. The way I see it, I’ll deal with all the hard and complicated stuff tomorrow. This evening, I’m on a personal mission to make sure I don’t think at all. After all the hell I’ve been through, I would dare say I deserve this one free night to be alone.
Looking around, I realize a few more patrons have entered the bar and are seated at the other end closest to the door. They look to be around my age and out to let off steam, having a grand old time amongst each other. This causes me to suddenly feel a little out of place, as it appears I’m the only person in here without someone. Also, I’m the only person at the bar who has a collection of mixed drink and shot glasses lined up in front of them, leaving me wondering if the bartender isn’t picking them up on purpose. Maybe she’s ignoring them, so I can keep track of how many drinks I’ve had. The thought makes me chuckle because little does she know, after one or two more drinks I’ll begin to build pyramids with them and make a game out of it. And if one or two happen to fall and break, oh well. It’ll be on her for not doing her damn job.
I begin to count all the glasses and realize I’m on drink number seven, lucky seven. Yep, I think this is a suitable number to stop on. Looking up, I eye the little lady behind the bar until she notices me.
I quickly ask, “Ma’am, you think you can close out my tab while I call for a cab? Here’s my card.”
“Sure thing, honey. You lasted longer than I thought you would.”
I can’t help smiling as I say, “Really?”
“Yes, you’ve been here for over two hours, and I figured with the amount you drank, I’d be picking you up off the floor by now. I’ve been around this place long enough that many things don’t surprise me anymore, but tonight you did exactly that; surprised the shit out of me.”
Unable to contain my laughter, I spiritedly say, “I’m glad I could be of some type of entertainment for you. I think I’ll wait outside and breathe in some of our southern fresh air. You have a good night.”
“You, too, honey, and don’t go trying to take off walking on the highway. You never know what crazies you’ll run into out there. It’s best if you wait in the parking lot.”
“Sure thing.”
Exiting the bar, I notice the gravel parking lot is dimly lit. Deciding to hang out closer to the highway to make it easier for the taxi to see me, I begin walking and swaying towards the road. I begin to gravitate towards the corner of the parking area, which places me towards the front, but also on the side that has a bridge that runs along the building. As I’m observing the bridge, my attention is grabbed by the squealing of car tires. I look up just in time to see a black four door car passing with a man in the back seat, banging on the glass, trying to get out.
I instantly reach in my back pocket and pull out my phone, dialing 911 as I take off running after the car as it crosses the bridge. A female dispatcher answers the phone, and I abruptly cut her off in mid-sentence, saying, “This is Detective Logan St. Martin. I have a vehicle abduction. The vehicle is a black four door car with a white male victim struggling in the back seat, and the car is crossing the Lisa Park Bridge, heading southeast onto main. The license plate number is six, kilo, nine…shit!! I lost him. He’s heading towards downtown on Main Street.”
“Ma’am, you mentioned you’re a detective. May I ask with what department?”
“I’m a homicide detective with the Terrebonne Parish Sheriff’s office.”
“Thank you, Detective. Can you please give me your exact location? I’ll have a unit en route to you.”
“Yeah, I’m at Hoot Mary Lou’s bar on Main Street.”
“An officer will be pulling up in just a moment. Please stay in the parking lot and wait for him to arrive.”
“I will, thank you.”
“If you’d like, Detective, I can stay on the phone with you while you wait.”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
Hanging up the phone with the 911 dispatcher, I can hear the sirens in the distance. A minute or two later, they appear to be closer. My mind begins trying to rationalize what I just saw and how I’m going to handle this. It’ll only take them a second to see I’m drunk. God, I hope the officer coming is someone I know. Otherwise, this has the potential to get messy very quickly.
To my surprise, the first unit to pull into the parking lot is a state trooper. Instantly, my heart feels like it’s in my throat. I wasn’t expecting one of the highway boys to show up for an abduction call. Normally, t
hey’re out looking for drunk drivers. As I watch him on his radio inside the unit, I notice a second car pulling in, and thankfully it’s one of ours. For a moment, I allow myself to feel a little at ease, knowing I’m not alone.
My first instinct is to start walking toward the Terrebonne Parish Unit. It doesn’t take me long to recognize the officer exiting the vehicle is my rookie, Neil Abbott. I silently send a prayer up above, thanking God for little favors.
“Good evening, Deputy Abbott.”
“Detective, I was on patrol and heard the call on the radio. I didn’t realize it was you until I pulled into the parking lot. I have to ask, are you impaired?”
Unable to control my movements, I guiltily look towards the ground and answer, “Yes.”
“I figured as much. I’ve already put a call in to your lieutenant, and he should be calling you any minute. In the meantime, I need you to give me a rundown on what you think you saw tonight.”
Through my drunkenness, I somehow pick up on the key phrase he used, “Think you saw.” I’m about to explain the situation when a big, burly trooper steps up on the side of me. Instinctively, I turn myself to where both men are now in front of me.
“Like I was about to say, I was out here waiting on my taxi to give me a ride home when I suddenly heard tires screeching. I turned just in time to see a male subject banging on the back glass of the vehicle. It was as if he was trying to get out. Now that I think of it, the way his hands were together when he was banging, I think he was tied up at his wrist.
“Anyways, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911 as I began to try to run after them. I was hoping to get the license plate number before the vehicle exited the bridge onto Main Street. Unfortunately, I was only able to get a partial.”
The trooper instantly speaks up, asking, “Can you describe the vehicle, Detective?”
Looking at his name tag, I see the name Corey Sims. I make sure to address him correctly, in the hopes he realizes that even though I’m impaired, I still have my senses. “Yes, Mr. Sims, I can. It was a black Crown Victorian with lightly tinted windows, so I was still able to see into the back.”