Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  CHAPTER 50

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “If you’re Melissa Cooper, then Burton has to be Drake.”

  Judith—well, Melissa—shook her head and frowned.

  “Ma’am, I need you to explain what’s going on here—and I want the truth. If Burton isn’t Drake, then where is Drake?”

  “Drake’s dead.” Tears flowed down Melissa’s cheeks again. “One of the bullets meant for Larry struck Drake in the stomach and he died three days later.”

  I was confused, but I didn’t let her know it. “So, the bullet that went through the wall struck Drake while he was in his crib?”

  Melissa’s head jerked upward. “How’d you know that?”

  “I saw the crime scene photographs and figured it out.” I leaned forward and studied Melissa closely. “You killed your own son?”

  She scrubbed at the tears on her face and nodded. “It was my idea—to kill Larry—and I’ll regret that decision for the rest of my life. Rick and I had been talking behind Larry’s back and Rick knew about the beatings.” She paused to take a trembling breath. “Rick told me he loved me one night on the phone and he wanted me to leave Larry. He promised to take me away and keep me safe, but I knew Larry would eventually track me down and kill me and Drake.” She shuddered. “He was always threatening to hurt Drake if I didn’t do what he told me to do. I knew the only way to truly escape was to kill Larry, and I told Rick I was going to do it with or without him.”

  When she was silent for a long time, I asked her to go on.

  She blew her nose on a Kleenex and continued. “Rick and Larry had known each other for years and Rick had supplied Larry with heroin on a few occasions—it’s actually how I met Rick for the first time. Anyway, Rick told Larry he could get him a shipment of heroin from out of town, but he would need his usual ten percent up front. When he told Larry it would be five hundred thousand dollars worth of heroin, Larry went on a stealing spree to raise the money.

  “Once Larry had raised the fifty grand, he called Rick and told him to bring over the drugs. When Larry usually conducts his business, I go to the back bedroom. This time, I hung around the kitchen while they were talking. When Larry stuffed the packages of drugs in his gym bag and Rick had the money, I walked up and fired a shot at Larry.” She stopped and shook her head, tears flowing down her face. “I missed and Larry jumped to his feet. I freaked out and fired again and again. I kept firing even after the gun was empty and Rick had to stop me.”

  After another long pause, I asked her to continue.

  “When Rick took the gun away from me, I went to grab Drake so we could leave. I’d already packed our clothes and had stashed them under the bed. I went for the clothes first. Drake was crying and I thought it was because of the loud noise, but then I saw the blood on his stomach.” She squeezed her eyes shut, as though doing so would block the image from her mind. “I wrapped him in his blankets and ran to the car. I wanted to take him to a hospital but Rick said we would both go to jail and I’d never see him again.”

  I scowled, wondering how selfish a mother would have to be to place her freedom before the life of her child. She appeared tormented enough by the memory of what she’d done, so I left it alone. Instead, I asked what they did when they left the trailer.

  “We were both scared and didn’t know what to do, so we fled the state. We came to his parents’ house and hid Drake in the barn.”

  “What’d y’all do with Drake when he died?”

  “We buried him behind Rick’s dad’s house.” She scrubbed a stream of tears from her face. “I still go there and visit him. He was my first child and I know God punished me for killing Larry. I swore I would never do another bad thing in my life, because bad things truly do come back to haunt you.”

  I remembered something Burton had told me. “Well, if this is all true and your dad is Fowler Underwood, why does Burton think your parents live in Upper Chateau?”

  “Because that’s what I told him.”

  I stared blankly at her and was about to ask who the imposters were when she waved me off.

  “I told Burton my dad died when I was a teenager and my mom died when he was a baby,” she explained. “He’s never met them, but I told him they were from Upper Chateau. There’s even this house outside of town that I’ve always thought was beautiful, and I told him it was where they lived when they were alive.”

  I nodded my understanding, feeling sorry for Burton. He’d been lied to his entire life. I couldn’t imagine my life being turned upside down. I pulled the flyer from my file and stared at the picture of Drake. It sure looked a lot like Burton. And the DNA results concluded Burton was related to Larry.

  “So,” I began slowly, “you must’ve been pregnant with Burton when Drake was killed. Isn’t that right?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Did Larry know?”

  “No. I didn’t even know until later, after we were in Louisiana for a few weeks.”

  I considered this new information for a moment, wondering what Rick knew and when he knew it. I pursed my lips. “You made Rick believe Burton was his kid, didn’t you?”

  Melissa hesitated, then nodded.

  “He knows better now. How’d he find out?”

  “I told him. I figured it’d be better coming from me than from some DNA test you were conducting.”

  I grunted. “So, Burton told you?”

  “He tells me everything—even things I don’t want to know. Rick was so angry. He threatened to leave me, but then I threatened to expose what he’d done, so we were both stuck with each other.”

  I stared deep into Melissa’s bloodshot eyes. Not only had this woman allowed her baby to die, but she remained with the man who had killed her own father. Although her pretty face appeared innocent and sweet, she was far from either. “How could you stay with the man who killed your father? I understand that what happened to Drake was an accident, but your dad was deliberately shot six times in the back. How could you stay with Rick, and then lie for him?”

  “He didn’t kill my dad.”

  “Then who did?”

  “No one.”

  My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “My dad’s not dead.”

  I scoffed. “The dead guy in the canal was identified as Fowler Underwood—unless you’re now saying Fowler Underwood wasn’t your dad.”

  “Fowler Underwood is my dad”—Melissa shook her head slowly—“but it wasn’t him in the canal.”

  “Okay,” I said, deciding to play along, “if it wasn’t your dad, then who was he?”

  “It was Sheriff Burns from Blackshaw County.”

  CHAPTER 51

  My mind whirled as Melissa explained. Fowler had been tearing Sheriff Burns’ wanted posters down for years. When Burns—now retired, thanks to his attack on Fowler—saw the flyers that Fowler’s siblings had put up around town, he decided it was time for some payback. He went around town changing the contact information on all of the missing person flyers from Fowler’s number to his own. So, when Kegan had called the number on the poster, he actually reached Sheriff Burns, who decided the best way to redeem himself was to be proven right about Melissa and to bring her to justice once and for all.

  One of Melissa’s cousins on her mom’s side had overheard Burns bragging in a Birchtown bar about how he’d received a tip from Louisiana about Melissa’s whereabouts. He said he called the number a hundred times until someone finally answered and told him where the tip had originated.

  “The best part,” Burns had said belligerently, “is everyone will think I’m Fowler.” He showed off some homemade “private eye” business cards he had made in Fowler’s name and said he was heading to Louisiana the next day. “I’m going to bring back the head of Melissa Cooper and drop it on the doorsteps of the sheriff’s department,” he had been heard declaring. “See if they call me crazy then!”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, interrupting Melissa’s story. “The man we found
in the canal wore a belt buckle with your dad’s initials cut into the underside. And your brother even confirmed that your dad was the one who tracked you down through the phone calls.”

  Melissa smiled. “Detective Wolf, would you lie to protect someone you love?”

  As I pondered her question, she continued telling me how her cousin had notified her dad about what she’d heard in the bar, and her dad immediately called to warn her. “It was the first time I’d heard from him since I left,” she said, weeping softly. “Back then, he told me I could never contact him because there were warrants for my arrest and he knew Sheriff Burns would never quit until he found me. Boy was he right.”

  “How’d Rick kill Burns?”

  “The school called to tell us a man had come by showing a picture that looked like Burton, so we knew he was here. That same Thursday, Cindy said she saw a strange truck down the street and we figured he had found us. Rick stayed home from work the next day to see if the truck would return, and it did.” The more she spoke, the stronger her voice became. “That’s when he killed him. It was the first time he’d killed anyone and it made him crazy. I…he’s scary to be around now. I really think he’s a danger to me and my children.”

  “How’d he do it?” I asked again.

  “He followed the truck to the end of the street in my Jeep and blocked him in. Sheriff Burns got out and walked over carrying one of the flyers—the same kind that Burton clipped to the refrigerator—and he asked Rick if he’d seen Drake or me. He identified himself as my dad. Rick told him he was trespassing and that he needed to leave the neighborhood or he would call the local police. They exchanged words and Burns turned angrily to walk back to his truck.” She sighed. “Rick stepped out of my Jeep and shot him in the back. He had no choice, you know?”

  I waved off her last comment. “Continue, please.”

  “He dragged the sheriff’s body through the woods and dumped him in the canal. He then hid the blue truck in our garage and burned all of his credentials in the fire pit, along with one of his shoes that had fallen off when Rick was dragging his body.”

  I studied Melissa with hard eyes. “Would it surprise you to know that I actually met with Sheriff Burns in Tennessee three days ago?”

  “Not at all,” Melissa said coolly. “But you weren’t speaking to Sheriff Burns…you were speaking to my dad.”

  “Right…well, you still never explained why Sheriff Burns was wearing a belt buckle with your dad’s initials carved into the back of it.”

  “There are a thousand buckles like that with his initials carved into them,” Melissa said. “My dad makes them and sells them. His initials are his brand. And everyone who knows my dad knows that’s the only buckle he ever wears, so I’m sure the sheriff went out and bought one to convince people he was my dad.” She huffed. “Did you check the buckle my dad was wearing when you went to Burns’ cabin? Because that one has his initials on it too.”

  I hadn’t, but I did remember how Moe Cooper claimed he spoke with Fowler on the twenty-third of September. When I’d questioned him, he reconsidered, but it turns out the man was correct. Fowler was laying down a reverse alibi.

  “What about Troy Gandy?” I asked.

  Melissa’s shoulders sagged. “I still can’t believe Rick killed that poor kid.”

  I asked her what happened and she said Rick heard a noise outside one night and went to investigate. “He found Troy snooping around the back yard. When Rick hollered at him, Troy ran to the back of the garage. Rick caught up to him and they started fighting near a bicycle.” Tears began to flow again. “Rick said he thought Troy saw the blue truck through the window, so he had no choice but to silence him.”

  “He strangled him?” I asked.

  She nodded. “He said he used a chain or wire from the bicycle. It was so horrible. I almost turned him in right then, but he told me I’d go to prison for killing Larry. When I said I didn’t care about that, he said he’d hurt my kids. He knows Larry used to control me by threatening to hurt Drake, and he began to do the same thing. It was so horrible.”

  I drummed my fingers on the desk. “We searched the garage Friday night but didn’t find the truck.”

  “Rick moved it while I was here with Burton and Cindy. He didn’t tell me where he moved it, but when I got home he said it was done, that we were all in the clear now. He said we should go on about our daily lives and just act normal. He promised me it would all blow over and we’d never be caught.”

  That’s what they all think. I glanced down at my notes.

  “We recovered a black revolver from Rick when we arrested him earlier tonight,” I said. “Would that be the same handgun you used to kill Larry?”

  Melissa nodded. “I hadn’t seen it for years after Rick took it from me the night I…you know, shot Larry, but I saw it yesterday. I asked Rick what he was doing with it, because I had told him to get rid of it eighteen years ago. He told me he buried it with Drake, but that was a lie. Everything he ever told me was a lie.”

  CHAPTER 52

  I went over Melissa’s story in my head and asked a few follow-up questions. I’d need to corroborate her story with her job and I needed to search the fire pit at her house. We’d recovered fingerprints from the body in the morgue, so those would have to be compared against the Blackshaw County Sheriff’s Department employee records for Sheriff Burns. If they didn’t match, I’d have to compare his DNA against Melissa’s to make sure he wasn’t Fowler. And once the ballistics came back on the gun we recovered from Rick Vincent, we’d know for sure if it was used to kill Larry Cooper and Sheriff Burns.

  “Am I going to jail?” Melissa’s voice broke through my thoughts. “If you lock me up, what’s going to happen to Cindy and Burton?”

  I sighed. “If what you’re telling me is true, you didn’t have a hand in killing anyone in my town, so I don’t have a reason to arrest you.”

  “What about…um—”

  “Larry?” I pursed my lips and stared thoughtfully at her. “I don’t have a warrant from Blackshaw County, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have one. At some point, I’ll have to contact their office and provide them with the information you gave me, but afterward it’ll be up to them.”

  She nodded and asked if she could take Burton and Cindy home. “There’s a lot we need to discuss as a family.”

  “Good luck,” was all I could say in support, and then told her I needed her to wait until I’d obtained a search warrant for her property. I also wanted to recover the body of Drake Cooper, so he could get a proper burial, but that would have to come on another day.

  After allowing Melissa to sit in the lunchroom with Burton, I typed up the search warrant and then took Cindy’s statement while waiting for the judge to sign and return the affidavit and warrant. Once I’d received the judicial authorization, I headed to Dire Lane and searched the Vincent property.

  Amidst a pile of melted plastic and burnt wood in the fire pit, I found the remnants of Sheriff Burns’ retired law enforcement commission card, a badly charred wallet badge, and the metal arch support from his shoe. When I removed the cover from one of the drums behind the garage, I found that it was filled with nutria traps. I began removing the traps and located a license plate and a badly damaged VIN plate buried halfway down the drum. I called dispatch and requested a license plate check—it came back to a blue Nissan King Cab registered to Sheriff Burns.

  Once I was satisfied I’d searched the entire area, I relinquished control of the property back to Melissa and told her I’d be in touch soon. I was going to get with Yates and forward the information I’d uncovered, which might mean I’d be returning to arrest her.

  I drove away from the Vincent home and called Susan to let her know what Melissa had said and to describe what I’d found at the house, but she told me she already knew everything. “Rick began spilling his guts while the doctor worked on him,” she said. “I tried to tell him to stop, but he just kept talking. I recorded everything on my phone,
including me telling him several times that he’d asked for an attorney so I wasn’t going to ask him questions. He told me he didn’t care, that he was sorry about what he’d done to Cindy and he wanted everyone to know he was responsible for killing the sheriff and Troy.”

  “What did he say about Larry?”

  “He said he and Melissa planned the hit on Larry. He had cooked up some fake drugs and was in the process of selling it to Larry when Melissa opened fire. One stray bullet hit the baby and they panicked. He said they grabbed the infant and the money and high-tailed it out of there. The baby died a few days later and they secretly buried it in his parents’ yard in Central Chateau. He said they lived off the money they’d stolen from Larry until Melissa was stable enough to start working.” Susan continued telling his story, and it matched Melissa’s.

  I sighed. Once the lab results came back on the gun, prints, and other evidence we’d submitted, the local case would be a wrap and Rick would be spending the rest of his natural life in prison.

  “Oh, and Clint,” Susan said, her voice low and somber. “I think I may have messed up.”

  “What’s that?” I asked. “Messed up how?”

  She paused for a moment and I could hear her take a deep breath. “I think I broke my leg.”

  “What?” I nearly dropped my phone. “You’re supposed to fight in a couple of weeks!”

  “I know,” she said. “When I kicked Rick’s elbow I felt a shock go up my right leg. It didn’t help when I kicked the revolver, and now I’ve got a lump on my fibula. I’m fixing to go into x-ray.”

  “I’m on my way.” I ended the call and smashed the accelerator. I arrived at the hospital in a record twelve minutes and rushed into the emergency room. Melvin was sitting in the lobby reading a magazine from the nearby rack. He jumped to his feet when I walked in.

  “They just took her to x-ray,” he said, “but they’re thinking it’s fractured.”