by S. L. Hebert
Trooper Sims takes a pause, then as if almost proceeding with caution, he goes on to say, “Miss St. Martin, I can clearly see you’re intoxicated. Even though you’re trying hard to hold it all together, your words are slurred. Is it possible that what you think you saw, you really didn’t see?”
Shit! Here it comes. I knew when I saw him pulling into the parking lot, I was going to have trouble getting him to believe me. I quickly turn my attention Deputy Abbott and say, “I know full well I’m in no condition to be driving, but I saw what I saw. Will y’all at least put out an APB on the vehicle and see if anything turns up? What if I’m right?”
Trooper Sims continues. “Look, we already have an alert out on the vehicle. Whether it turns up or not, we don’t know. What I will say is…”
As he’s about to give me a lecture, my cell phone rings. Pulling it out of my pocket, I see it’s the lieutenant and answer it, purposely cutting off the trooper in mid-sentence.
“Hello?”
“Detective St. Martin, I’m not even going to ask you what you’ve been up to because I already know. What I will say is, you are to get your ass into Deputy Abbott’s unit, and he’s going to bring you downtown to my office. Do you understand me, Detective?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hanging up the phone, I lift my head to see both officers looking at me, prompting me to address Deputy Abbott. “My lieutenant wants you to bring me in to his office, now.”
Trooper Sims instantly starts grinning, saying, “I have no reason to hold you here. We aren’t even sure there’s been an abduction. If your lieutenant is wanting to speak with you, then you’re free to go. If something comes of your story, you’ll be the first person I contact, understood?”
With the realization that he’s attempting to talk down to me, I find myself struggling not to let him know whose jurisdiction he’s in. Luckily, Deputy Abbott cuts in and says, “I’m sure Detective St. Martin will be willing to help us out anyway she can if needed.” It’s his way of letting the trooper know this would technically not be his case. I manage to suppress the smile wanting to cross my face as my inner goddess cheers for Deputy Abbott’s quick wit and subtle tone.
The trooper wishes us a goodnight and turns, heading back to his unit. No sooner than he’s out of earshot, Deputy Abbott quickly says, “Get in my unit. I need to get you downtown before you manage to cause any more damage to your reputation.”
Once we’re in his unit, I instantly ask, “What do you mean more damage to my reputation? I’ll have you know, Rookie, I’ve busted my ass for this department and managed to close more cases than all the detectives combined.”
“It’s not your work ethic that precedes you, St. Martin; it’s your drinking habits. Even with all the work you do, there’s a dark cloud that looms over you everyone whispers about when you aren’t around. As a person who’s assisted in your case since the trailer fire months ago, and as a colleague, I feel I’m doing an injustice by not informing you of what everyone’s talking about.”
“You’re acting as if I’m the talk of the town.”
“Like it or not, you are. I’m not saying it’s fair. I know you never asked to be stalked by a serial killer, nor did you expect him to go after Bria, but this town is still considered small, and everyone talks. Hell, it was no secret you and Detective Grasso were coming back today. Everyone is waiting to see how the sheriff is going to handle you.”
“What do you mean, handle me?”
“Like I said, small town. The gist of it is, everyone knows you told the sheriff exactly what you thought of him before throwing him out of your apartment. Now the killer is only requesting to speak with you, and if I had to take a guess, this is the only reason he hasn’t fired your ass yet.”
Feeling my anger starting to rise from within, I don’t even bother furthering our discussion. I simply sit in silence until we arrive at the station.
Once we enter the parking garage, I immediately thank Deputy Abbott and exit the unit. Making my way upstairs, I try to regain my composure, feeling a little on edge, mainly because I have no idea what I’m about to walk into.
Somberly entering the office, I see the lieutenant’s door is open and he’s sitting at his desk. It appears he’s speaking to someone. He gives me a stern look as I enter his office. On my right, I see Detective Ethan Babin, Detective Wyatt Richard, and Michael. Abruptly, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach.
Not wasting any time, the lieutenant says, “Glad you could finally make it to the party, Detective St. Martin.”
Disgruntled, I reply, “I didn’t know we were having one.”
“Well, neither did we, not until I received a call from Deputy Abbott that you were at one of your watering holes and think you may have seen an abduction. See, we were all at our usual hangout, trying to welcome your partner home, when I received the call.”
Without a skip in his lecture, he continues, “I figured since we’re all working the case with John, it’s best if we have an impromptu meeting, letting everyone know how I plan to handle the situation – and when I say everyone, I mean mainly you.”
His last four words leave me unable to swallow my spit as I feel my throat tightening from fear of being pulled off the case.
Without hesitation, I spontaneously ask, “Am I off the John Broussard case?”
“See, here’s the thing. I can’t fully pull you off the case. He’s seen to tying my hands by only requesting to speak with you. As much as I’d love to pull you from it, I simply can’t. So, I have all of you here to enlighten you to what I plan on doing. The very first thing that’s going to happen is you, Detective St. Martin, are going to see the phycologist who works for the department. I need to know you’re stable enough to be put in a room with John. Second, I’m requiring you to attend AA meetings. I’m tired of pussy footing around the topic of your drinking problem. This means you won’t be coming into the office for the next two weeks to work; you’ll remain in the loop from home. I’m doing this, so you’ll have enough time to seek out the help we all know you need. If the psychologist feels you can go toe to toe with John, I’ll concede and allow you to interview him. Also, when and if you return to work, I’ll expect you to continue with the AA program. You’ve been drinking to excess way before John ever came along, and I think you need to figure out why.”
It takes everything I have in my drunken state to hold back the tears stinging my eyes. The whole time he’s ranting, I just keep telling myself, “Don’t let them see you cry.”
Once he’s finished, the whole office remains silent for a minute until I hear Grasso speak up from the chair in the corner. “We’re all here for you, Logan. You aren’t alone in this.”
At the same time, Detective Babin and Richard both say, “Yeah, Lo, we got your back.”
As if on cue, the lieutenant chimes back in, stating, “I know you think I’m being a dick right now, but the truth is, you, my dear, are on the sheriff’s shit list. He still hasn’t forgotten what you said to him in your apartment, and I doubt he ever will. This may be the only way to keep you on the force. By you going and getting help, it’ll show him you weren’t totally in your right mind and are trying to get better.”
“Let me get this straight: you want the sheriff to think I’m acknowledging to be unstable?”
Grasso immediately says, “No, not exactly. But the sheriff won’t rest with you until he feels he has the upper hand, and by you going to therapy and AA, it’ll go a long way on your part.”
All the while Grasso is trying to explain the situation to me, everything becomes a haze. My knees become weak as I battle the disoriented feeling of instability, along with the worst taste and feeling ever rising in my throat. Before he can even finish talking, I immediately make a bee line for the nearest trash can and begin tossing up the foul auburn liquid I consumed on an empty stomach.
Michael
It’s been a little over a week since Logan’s drunken display in Lt. Clark’s office. Thinking bac
k on that night, I’ll always remember the disgusted look she gave me as I helped her into my car and drove her home. For the first time, I could finally see the lost look in her eyes. In her intoxicated state, she could no longer hide behind the facade.
I made every attempt known to man to try and reach out to her, and every time she kept shutting me down. At one point, I thought I was getting through to her. I heard her say as she looked out the window, “My father never cared, Grasso. He took the heart of a little girl and made her grow up way too fast. The pictures embedded in my head tend to keep me locked up inside my past. The problem is, I don’t remember all of it. I always feel like there are pieces of the puzzle missing.”
I remember being shocked at first that she even mentioned something about her father. Not meaning to, I reacted by questioning what she meant; to my disbelief, she answered, “I see damaged goods when I look in the mirror, Michael. I was once shattered but somehow managed to put myself back together again – until John showed up in town and all hell broke loose. Now I’m broken again, and this time I’m not sure if I can be fixed.”
Listening as she continued the rest of the ride slurring her words, I couldn’t manage to sifter through the rest of what she was saying, causing me to make the decision not to press the issue any further.
After I basically carried her into her apartment and put her to bed, I felt obligated to stay the night on her sofa. When she woke the next morning, she wasn’t pleased to find me in her apartment. I spent about an hour explaining to her all the events of the night before, due to her memory being absent. By the time I was finished, she was fully aware of the gravity of the situation. It was no surprise when she asked me to leave, stating she needed be alone.
So, for a little over a week now, I’ve called her twice a day to check on her and fill her in on all that’s going on at the office. She informed me she’s seen the department shrink three or four times and has managed to make it to a few AA meetings. Never does she tell me what’s discussed; only that it sucks, and she feels uncomfortable. My fear is that she’s built a wall so high, she may never be able to see her way to the other side.
With the ringing of the phone on my desk, my train of thought is abruptly broken. Quickly picking up the receiver, I routinely say, “This is Detective Grasso speaking, how may I help you?”
There’s a long pause on the other end. The only sound I hear is cars passing by in the distance, causing me for some reason not to hang up. A muffled female voice then comes through from the other end. Her only words are, “If Detective St. Martin doesn’t meet with John soon, more people will die.”
“Hello?! Hello, who is this?” I find myself shouting into the phone until I realize she’s already hung up. Looking up, I see Detective Richard’s staring at me. I yell to him as I’m getting out of my chair, “Get a trace on the last call passed through to my desk, now!” Turning from him, I practically run to Lt. Clark’s office.
Without knocking, I enter unannounced and see he’s on a phone call. Without thinking, I demand instantly he hang up on his call. He starts to give me a questioning look when I hear him say, “Umm, Warden, I’m going to have to call you back in a minute., Son, this damn well better be important, because if I just hung up on the warden down at the prison for some bullshit, you may find your ass on permanent desk duty.”
“I’m sorry, Clark, but I think we may have a problem brewing.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, boy, spit it out.”
“I just received a call that was passed through by the dispatcher. It was a female voice on the other end, and she clearly stated if Detective St. Martin doesn’t speak with John, we’ll start finding more dead bodies.”
As I watch Lt. Clark’s face pale, he places his face down in his hands. It almost appears as if he’s taking deep breaths, then it dawns on me that he said he was on the phone with the warden.
“Clark, what were you on the phone with the warden for?”
“It appears there was an incident at the jail last night. Your brother made a weak attempt on his life.”
“How in the hell did he manage to do that? He’s in solitary confinement.”
“Somehow, he managed to take the hard-plastic food tray and break it. Using one of the broken pieces, he began stabbing himself in the leg, attempting to puncture his main artery.”
While shaking my head, the only reply I can seem to muster is, “Stupid piece of shit. He had no intentions of killing himself.”
“We know this, son. It was his way to cause disruption in the jail last night and earn himself a trip to the infirmary. No matter how much we may hate the bastard, he is to be afforded medical care; it’s one of his constitutional rights.”
“Okay, well since we know he was able to get to the infirmary, who could he have talked to while being in there? The phone call I just received was no coincidence. He had to have talked to someone.”
“That is what Warden Thibodaux and I were discussing when you barged into my office. He claims to have reviewed the tapes and watched John’s every move. Not once did John speak from the time he left solitary until he was returned. Even when the nurse attempted to ask him questions, he stayed mute, causing her to shoot him up with a sedative.”
“Is he on suicide watch now?”
“Yes, there’s a guard sitting in a chair right outside his door 24/7. And while this is happening, we also have an officer sitting in front of a monitor day and night now, watching the camera, waiting to see if any of the officers on duty try to communicate with John.”
“Lieutenant, what do we do about Logan?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, son. Between me and you, I’m not sure if she’s ready to face John yet. The department therapist hasn’t signed off on her being able to come back to work. If anything, he’s leaning towards the opposite. He claims she isn’t being honest with him, and he doesn’t think he can reach her. This leaves us in a little bit of a pickle, don’t you think?”
“The way I see it, Clark, we have until the body count starts piling up, and then we’ll be forced to hand her to him on a silver platter. I don’t like it. Is there any way to set it up so I can monitor the situation and if needed pull her out of the room if I see it’s beginning to become more than she can handle?”
“I don’t know if that’s going to fly with the sheriff, son. Let me make a few calls and see if I can manage to get a meeting this afternoon with the sheriff and the phycologist. It’ll all depend on what they have to say.”
As he finishes his sentence, I check the time on my watch; it’s a little after lunch. Unable to get the hollow feeling from the pit of my stomach, I ask to be excused. The lieutenant gladly releases me from his office, and I head straight to Detective Richard’s desk.
He appears to be waiting on me and quickly says, “The call was made from a pay phone off old HWY 90, near Bayou Blue.”
“Great. That highway stays busy, and all the old businesses should still be open. I’m going to take a ride out there and see what I can turn up.”
“Grasso, if you don’t mind, I’d like to tag along with you.”
“Sure, but I’m leaving now.”
“Then let’s go. I’m not working on anything pressing. Besides, Logan is one of ours, and to me that takes precedent.”
While exiting the station, I decide to make small talk until we’re in my unit. It appears Richard is on the same page as I am because he doesn’t make any attempts to ask any questions.
It’s not until we’re more than halfway to the spot where the call was placed when Det. Richard turns and says, “Are you planning on leaving me in the dark on what this call is about?”
“No. Simply put, a female voice was on the other end of the phone and is claiming if Logan doesn’t see John soon, more people will die. The problem is, Logan hasn’t been released by the department shrink to come back.”
“Shit, this could be one big hoax.”
“I don’t think so. John made a poor at
tempt last night to take his own life. It appears he has help on the outside, and we need to figure out who this person is.”
“My question is, why? Why would anyone help him?”
“I don’t think any of this is a coincidence. My brother has been determined from the beginning to find out about Logan’s past, and I think the key to all of this is locked somewhere inside of Logan. Think about it, when my brother started killing, it was because of our sister’s death. Now out of nowhere, we receive a call on behalf of John, and all of it revolves around Logan’s childhood. If we can figure out what happened to her as a child, then I’d bet my life we’ll figure out who’s helping my brother.”
“Do you know anything about her father?”
“No, only the little bits and pieces she slips up and tells me when she’s drunk. It seems he was an abusive alcoholic who only cared about himself.”
“Has she ever mentioned where he is now?”
“Not really. Only that her parents divorced when she was little, and he was off limits.”
“Off limits to you, maybe; I, on the other hand, think it’s worth digging into. I know you have feelings for her and you’re trying to respect her boundaries, but if it helps put a stop to all this madness, I’ll do it.”
“This could ruin your friendship with her. You know this, right?”
“If it stops her and others from being killed, then it’s worth it to me.”
Pulling into the parking lot of the old abandoned pawn shop, I notice the pay phone located on the side of the building. Letting out a heavy sigh, I already know by the looks of things that this was a wasted trip. Disregarding my disheartened feelings, I pop the trunk and grab my fingerprinting kit and head to the phone.
We ended up staying at the location for about forty minutes when I received a call from Lt. Clark. He phoned to let me know the sheriff and department psychologist will be meeting with him at four o’clock. Checking my watch, I see it’s now going on three o’clock. Coming up empty-handed, Det. Richard and I decide to head back to the office.