by BJ Bourg
I was still sifting through the file when a shadow fell over my door and I looked up to see Susan standing there. I jumped to my feet and rushed around the desk to greet her with a hug. “Hey, how are you?”
When I released her, she cracked that crooked smile of hers and nodded. “The doctor says I’m good as new.”
“Thank God!” I smiled big, unable to contain my relief and excitement. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
Susan walked around me and stared at the mess on my desk. Four three-ring binders were open and spread out. “I heard you found Gregg Daniels dead,” she said.
I nodded and told her the story. Picking up a large yellow envelope labeled Crime Scene Photos, I reclaimed the seat behind my desk, and she sat across from me. I shoved my hand deep into the envelope and pulled out a handful of photographs. I flipped through them one by one as we talked about the case and discussed the possible suspects. I was about to mention the lawyer when Amy came in and tossed the letter back on my desk. “It can’t be the lawyer,” Amy said, “unless he’s a ghost.”
I grunted. “How long has he been dead?”
“Six years.”
I looked at Susan and raised my eyebrows. “That leaves only the victim, Sandra Daniels.”
Amy handed me a computer printout and said she’d taken the liberty of running Sandra Daniel’s name. “This is her last known address. It’s off of Cypress Highway.”
I thanked her and pointed to the chair next to Susan, who was reading over the files. I continued flipping through the photographs and cringed when I saw the pictures of Sandra Daniels’ nude body. She had been banged up pretty good and there were bruises on her upper thighs and forearms. I flipped to the next picture that showed finger bruises around her throat and a red mark on her temple that was made from the muzzle of the pistol. When I came to focus on her face I nearly choked on my tongue.
“What is it?” Susan asked, looking up from the file in her lap.
“I…I know this woman!” I said, pointing to the picture of her face. “I know who she is!”
CHAPTER 49
Susan hurried around my desk and looked over my shoulder. Amy was right on her heels. I held up the picture so they could see.
“Who is she?” Amy asked.
I stabbed at her face with my index finger. “Their Sandra Daniels is our Sandra Voison.”
“Who’s Sandra Voison?” Amy wanted to know.
Susan’s face scrunched up. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“She’s the postal worker who found Betty Ledet,” I said. “That explains how she found Gregg Daniels when we couldn’t. She delivered the letter from prison.” I shook my head, disappointed with myself. “I should’ve figured it out sooner. When I interviewed her that day she bragged about knowing everyone’s address. She even showed off her skills by calling out my address and telling me I needed to cut my grass.”
“She’s right about your grass,” Susan said, picking up the picture and holding it close to her face. “So, this bitch shot me.”
I twisted around until I could see her. “I’m going to make her pay for what she did.”
“I want to be there when you arrest her,” Susan said.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I began slowly. “We don’t have a shred of evidence against her, so we’ll need a confession, and that means being nice to her.”
“Oh, I’ll be really nice to her. I’ll sing her a lullaby as I put her to sleep.”
By “sleep”, I knew Susan meant choking her until she was unconscious, but I also knew she would restrain herself and do what she had to do to make a good case.
Amy was thoughtful. “I don’t get it. Why wait so long to go after everyone? I mean, why not kill the jurors immediately after the trial?”
I shook my head. “She wanted all of them, starting with Gregg Daniels, so she had to wait for him to get out of prison. My guess is she’s been preparing for this day for over twenty years.”
“Hell, she might’ve applied for a job with the post office just to find everyone’s addresses,” Susan said.
After researching her address on the computer and finding a bird’s eye view on the satellite, I gathered up the file and moved to the conference room with Susan and Amy. I drew a quick diagram of the house and surrounding area. She lived east of town on the opposite side of Bayou Tail. Her house was centered on an empty stretch of land along the bayou. It had the only red roof in the area. Sandra’s closest neighbor was directly across Cypress Highway from her, but it was the only neighbor for at least a quarter mile.
I pointed to a patch of trees on the western bank of Bayou Tail. “I’ll set up here and do surveillance—see what I can see.” I slid my finger along Cypress Highway in front of Sandra’s house. “Susan, do a drive-by and see if there are any cars in the driveway.” I turned to Amy. “Meet with Melvin at the coroner’s office and see if he needs any help. Afterward, get with William and call me on the radio. We can’t arrest Sandra, but I want her house surrounded when we knock on the door. She’s a potential cop killer—let’s not forget that.”
Susan rubbed the top of her left breast. “Can we make her buy me a new cell phone? That thing was six hundred dollars.”
I smiled and headed for the door.
CHAPTER 50
I pulled to the shoulder of the road when I found the landmark I’d been looking for. It was an old gas station directly across the bayou from Sandra Voison’s house. I’d planned to hang out behind it to conduct surveillance on her property, but I hadn’t realized someone had turned the little building into an apartment. An old rusted out pickup and a faded blue boat were parked under the overhang and lights were on inside the house. I couldn’t risk being discovered, so I drove farther south and grunted when I couldn’t find an opening that offered an unobstructed view across Bayou Tail. The sun was going down behind me and the mosquitoes were already out in droves.
After parking down a cane field road, I grabbed the binoculars from my floorboard and jogged across Main Street and reluctantly squeezed through the thick underbrush. Most of the weeds were taller than me and some were as thick as my forearm. Pickers stabbed at my bare arms, leaving deep burning sensations I could’ve lived without. Sweat dripping from every pore, I finally pushed through to the water’s edge and sank to the ground with my back to a cypress tree. I scanned the opposite bank. There was no mistaking the red roof on Sandra’s house. I pulled the binoculars to my eyes and focused on her back yard. She kept a nice flower bed and her box garden was well tended. Her grass was neatly cropped and nothing seemed out of place…well, except for a large puffy object on the northern edge of her property. I couldn’t make out what it was from my vantage point, so I started creeping toward my right. As I moved, I was very aware of the dangers that lay beneath the surface of the murky water, and I kept my right hand close to my pistol.
I had picked my way about twenty yards to the right when the face of the puffy object came into view—a bow hunter’s target! I tightened the focus on my binoculars and saw a human silhouette target taped to it and there were red arrows buried in the chest, throat, and groin area. I snatched up my radio. “Susan, this is our killer. Where are you?”
“I’m on foot across from her house. Her mail Jeep’s here and so is another car. I detected movement inside, but I can’t make out how many occupants.”
I told her to hold her position and I scrambled through the underbrush, fighting my way back to Main. Once I got there, I crossed the highway and jumped into my Tahoe, speeding toward the bridge that connected the west side of town with the east. I called Melvin as I drove, asking him where he was and how he was coming with the autopsy.
“We’re done,” he said. “I heard your transmission over the radio. Amy’s with me and William’s meeting us at the office. Tell me what you want us to do.”
I gave him their assignments—two of them on foot behind the house and one in their car south of the place—and met Susan where she
hid her Charger in the fields. I jumped in with her and sighed when the cold air hit my wet uniform. I wiped my forehead and stared out the window. The long, evening shadows had turned into thick waves of black. Knowing it would be easier for us to move under the cover of darkness, I’d told everyone to hold their positions until the last light had faded from the sky. That was now.
I keyed up my radio. “Let’s move, gang.”
Susan and I waited until everyone was in position. Once they were set, we cruised down the road and pulled into Sandra Voison’s driveway. Instead of going to the front door, we went under the carport and tried to see as much as we could from the kitchen window on that side of the house. As Susan knocked, I waited and watched through a slit in the curtains. Before long, I saw Sandra making her way from the back of the house, dodging a sofa and the kitchen table before disappearing from my view to the right. I backed away from the window and stood to Susan’s left, hand positioned on my pistol. I hadn’t seen anything in Sandra’s hands, but I didn’t trust the woman one bit.
Light flooded the carport when she opened the door. She smiled at Susan. “Hello, officer. Can I help you?”
I wanted to tell her to cut the act and get her shit so we could go, but I took a breath and stepped forward. “Hey, Mrs. Voison. Remember me?”
Sandra squinted, trying to penetrate the shadows better, and stepped closer to the storm door. “Chief Wolf? Is that you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sandra pushed open the door and waved for us to enter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you out there. It’s hard to see.”
I followed Susan into the kitchen area and quickly surveyed the room, searching for any clue that might help us prove she was the killer. There were pictures in the living room, but it was cloaked in darkness and I couldn’t see who was in any of them. Sandra pointed to the table at the center of the kitchen. “Please, have a seat.”
Susan sat beside Sandra and I sat across from them. My gaze immediately fell upon a picture on the kitchen counter. It was in a rustic frame and the surface was faded, but that wasn’t what had gotten my attention. I pointed to it. “Who’s that?”
CHAPTER 51
Sandra turned her attention to where I pointed. The picture had been taken in the wilderness and the man was clad in a thick jacket, gloves, and knit hat. There was a long bow in his hands and the string was pulled back, aiming a wooden arrow at something. She frowned. “That’s my late husband, Spencer. He was my only true love.”
“This Spencer, was he a bow hunter?” I asked.
She nodded. “Exclusively. He didn’t think it was fair to hunt animals with a gun, so he never did. He preferred the challenge of stalking close to his quarry and killing them, rather than doing so from the comfort of a deer stand three hundred yards away, where the animal would never have a fighting chance.”
“Did he ever teach you to shoot a bow?” I asked.
“He showed me some things, tried to get me to go hunting with him, but”—Sandra shrugged—“it wasn’t my thing.” She stood suddenly and moved toward the sink, pushing her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. “Care for something to drink?”
Susan and I both declined and I watched her move around the kitchen. I knew she was strong, because I’d seen her toss those mail boxes around like they were empty when I’d first met with her, and now I noticed how easy she moved on her feet.
“Do you still practice shooting your bow?” I asked.
She smirked as she poured a glass of water from the tap and returned to her chair. “I barely have time to eat, much less play around with some toy.”
I made a mental note that she hadn’t denied owning a bow. “So, does that mean you don’t practice shooting your bow?”
“That’s affirmative, Chief.”
Susan gave me a nod, then looked at Sandra. “Ma’am, you haven’t asked us why we’re here.”
“Because I already know why you’re here. It’s about the murder.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“I mean, why else would you be here?” Sandra took a sip from her glass and then set it down. “The only dealings I’ve had with the law was when I found Betty Ledet dead at her house.”
I studied her face, knowing what I was about to do and waiting for any clue that might tell me she was ready to crack. I didn’t need her to confess to killing any of the jurors; I only needed her to admit she’d killed her ex-husband. I could connect the rest of the dots myself. “Ma’am, do you know Gregg Daniels?”
The blood immediately drained from her face and she averted her eyes, not saying a word.
“What would you say if I told you he was dead?” Susan asked, leaning close to her.
Sandra’s eyes widened. “Dead? What do you mean? Are you sure?”
I pulled out a picture of Gregg Daniels as we’d found him and tossed it on the table. “Dead as can be.”
She recoiled in horror, but her eyes remained glued to the picture. When the initial shock wore off, she reached for the picture and pulled it close, studying it. I thought I saw the sides of her mouth curl up into a smile. Finally, she looked up and nodded. “That is him. He’s really dead.”
“How do you feel about him being dead?” I asked.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she said.
“Just be honest,” Susan offered.
“I’m happy he’s dead. I wish I could’ve been there to see him take his last breath.”
“You weren’t?” I asked.
Sandra’s face twisted into a scowl. “Excuse me?”
I pointed toward the back of her house. “If I search your place, will I find the compound bow that was used to kill him? Or red arrows with three-blade mechanical broad-heads like the ones used to kill him?”
Sandra’s eyes narrowed and she fixed me with a cold stare. Finally, through gritted teeth, she asked, “Do you have a warrant?”
“No, but I can get one.”
“Meanwhile,” she said, “you can get the hell out of my house.”
I stood and nodded at Susan. “We will, but you’re coming with us.”
Sandra turned from me to Susan and then back to me. “What on earth for?”
“For murder.”
“Murder?” She stabbed the crime scene photo with her finger and laughed. “You think I did this? I wouldn’t even know how to find him. I thought he was still in jail. He wasn’t supposed to get out for another—”
“You thought he was in jail until you delivered that letter to him from prison.” I watched more color drain from her face and wondered where all her blood was going. “Are you going to deny delivering his mail?”
“I deliver everybody’s mail,” she said.
“And you also know where everyone lives,” I said. “Remember? You even proved it to me.”
“Oh, I guess I killed Betty Ledet, too, since I delivered her mail, as well.”
I nodded. “And Isaac Edwards, and—”
“Wait—you can’t be serious.” Sandra shoved her hair out of her face, glaring at me. “Do you really think I murdered all those people?”
I pointed toward the back of her house. “There’s a human target back there with red arrows sticking out of the throat, chest, and groin areas—precisely where our victims were shot. You’re the only one involved in the case who has access to everybody’s address and you’re the only one who knew Gregg was out of prison. Hell, we couldn’t even find him, and we have access to all the latest databases available to law enforcement.”
Tears began to form in Sandra’s eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. I didn’t kill Gregg, or any of those people.”
“Really?” I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “Then who’d you share his address with?”
Sandra stared blankly at me. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Did you tell anyone where Gregg Daniels lived?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because if you
didn’t, then no one else knew he was in town, and that means you’re the only one who could’ve killed him.”
Sandra’s lips began to quiver and she lowered her head, not saying another word.
I pointed to the ashtray on her table. “You’re a smoker and so is Gregg. You knew enough to take cigarette butts from the ashtray in his bedroom and leave them at the scenes of the juror killings. And you rubbed your arrows on Gregg’s body to get his DNA on them. You did a good job setting him up, and it might’ve worked had it not been for one thing.” I paused a moment to let Sandra wonder what that one thing might be. “You didn’t count on two drug dealers coming forward to claim the reward.”
Sandra started to cry softly. “I’m not saying another word until I speak with my lawyer.”
“Suit yourself.” I stood and scanned the kitchen. “I bet we’ll find the keys to that Thunderbird in here somewhere.”
Sandra kicked back her chair and jumped up. “Not without a warrant you won’t!”
Susan was on her feet before the first word left Sandra’s lips. In an instant, she kicked Sandra’s feet out from under her and dropped on top of her on the ground, jerking both arms behind her back. “Another thing you didn’t count on,” Susan said, “was me not dying. My only regret is not shooting you out there in that field.”
CHAPTER 52
An hour later, Sandra Voison was locked in our holding cell and Susan and I were sitting around my desk filling out the arrest report and applying for a search warrant. William had returned to his shift and Amy and Melvin went home for the night. Once the arrest report was done and the warrant had been faxed to the judge’s house, I called Mayor Boudreaux and updated him on the case. I was about to call Chloe and give her first dibs on the story when Susan picked up the database audit report.
“What’s this?” she asked. I explained to her what it was and she scowled. “According to this, you ran a name inquiry on Isaac Edwards on October eighth.”