by BJ Bourg
Jill gave a reluctant nod and moved beside Susan, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”
CHAPTER 45
Desmond was still crying. Although he didn’t appear to be in any danger of dying, I wanted to take his statement in case he did—or in case he’d decide to get a lawyer later. Keeping one hand on his wound and wiping blood from my other hand, I dug out my phone and activated the recording feature.
“Mr. Lemon, why’d you shoot Matthew?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I…I wasn’t trying to shoot Matthew. I wanted to kill that prick, Foster Blake. He…it wasn’t an accident what happened to Kimberly all those years ago. Foster intentionally hurt Kimberly. Matthew saw it himself and told us the other night. Had I known about this shit years ago, I would’ve buried him back then, when I was younger and had a steadier hand.” Desmond opened his bloodshot eyes and stared up at me in desperation. “Please, officer, you’ve got to do something to him. At least lock him up for hurting Kimberly. Please, I’m begging you! He can’t get away with this.”
“How many attempts have you made on Foster’s life?”
The old man was thoughtful. “At least three times. I tried to take that son of a bitch out Friday night—the night we got here. Pearly and him got in a fight over this business with Kimberly and he high-tailed it out of here.”
“How’d you know where to find him?”
“I…well, Pearly said he worked over at the bar in town down the street from the police department.”
“What made you think Foster was working that night?”
“Pearly said so.”
“Do you realize you killed an innocent man?”
Desmond closed his eyes again and turned his head, wincing in pain. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I heard about it on the news. I’m real sorry about that and I’ll take whatever punishment I’ve got coming to me, if only you punish Foster.”
“You’re going to get what’s coming to you no matter what happens to Foster.” I glanced over at the Glock. “Is that the gun you used to shoot Mitch Taylor?”
“I was trying to shoot Foster.”
“Is that the gun you used?”
He sighed. “It is.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“Me…it’s mine.”
“Did you also take some shots at Foster last night?”
“I…I did. I tried three times to kill that bastard, but he just won’t die. He’s like a cockroach.”
“I understand your hatred for Foster, I really do, but the problem is you killed an innocent man and you shot your grandson. You see, it’s dangerous to go off—” I was about to lecture him on vigilante justice, but suddenly clamped my mouth shut, realizing I didn’t have the moral high ground on that issue. Instead, I told him I’d have to arrest him for the murder of Mitch Taylor, the attempted murder of Foster Blake, and the attempted murder of Matthew Bernard.
“Do whatever you’ve got to do. I don’t care. Just don’t let Foster near Kimberly.”
I surveyed the front yard. Pearly was holding Foster and they were both crying. I didn’t like that she stood behind her man even though she knew what he’d done to Kimberly. Melvin had thrown a blanket over Matthew and was trying to keep him from moving. Susan and Jill were standing near my Tahoe and they were facing the front of the street, where a fire rescue vehicle was approaching rapidly. I heard more sirens in the distance.
“He gets help first,” I said, pointing to Matthew when the rescue vehicle had pulled into the driveway and the two volunteer firemen had hurried toward us. “He’s an innocent victim.”
Melvin stepped back and allowed the firemen to get close and do their jobs. Matthew craned his neck and froze when his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t arrest my grandfather,” he said through clenched teeth, obviously trying to fight through the pain. “It was an accident and I’m not pressing charges.”
We were only about a dozen feet apart, but it was hard to make out what Matthew was saying. His words rolled out like grunts and I had to focus on reading his lips. I scowled when I realized what he’d said. The firemen were strapping him to a spine board, but he wasn’t paying attention to them. He was focused like a laser on me. When I didn’t respond, he spoke again. “Please don’t arrest my grandfather. He can’t handle prison.”
I could tell he loved his grandfather and I felt bad for him, but I shook my head slowly. “Sorry, but he confessed to killing an innocent man, so he’s going to have to get used to prison life.”
“Confessed?” Matthew twisted around to look in the direction of Desmond. Matthew’s face was pale and it appeared he was growing weaker. “He would never kill an innocent person. Hell, he…he never hurt anyone in his life.”
“His intent was to kill Foster, but he accidentally killed Foster’s boss instead—a man named Mitch Taylor.”
Matthew started to respond, but cried out in pain when the firemen moved him toward the ambulance that had just arrived. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out from the pain of his injuries. That brought a reaction from Jill, and Susan had to grab her arm to hold her back. “It’s okay, he’s in good hands. He simply fainted. Look at his chest, he’s still breathing.”
Jill wrung her hands and nodded, but the worry lines in her face were deep.
When a second ambulance arrived, I helped them load Desmond into the back of the unit and asked Melvin to follow it to the hospital.
“Want me to get with the sheriff’s office to set up round-the-clock guard duty?” he asked.
I nodded. “Let them know he’ll be arrested once he’s released.”
Melvin spun and jumped in his truck to follow the ambulance. I felt someone moving beside me and turned to see Susan. I asked if she was okay and she nodded.
“I feel bad about shooting that old man, especially since he was going after Foster. I know he’s wrong for the shooting, but I feel Foster would deserve some bad karma for what he did to that poor girl.”
I nodded my agreement, wondering if we’d be able to exact some form of justice for Kimberly.
CHAPTER 46
It was three hours later and Doug Cagle—who, at my request, had been assigned to handle the shooting—and I had just finished interviewing Pearly and Jill at the police department when Melvin called me.
“He didn’t make it,” Melvin said.
“Matthew?”
“No, the old man.”
“What do you mean?” I glanced at Susan. She had just walked into my office as Pearly and Jill were leaving, and I wondered how she’d take the news.
“He coded on the operating table during surgery. They weren’t able to revive him. The doctor said he suffered a massive heart attack.”
“So, it wasn’t the gunshot wounds that did him in?” I was speaking low enough so Pearly and Jill couldn’t hear, but Susan’s head snapped around.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she closed the door behind the two women.
I held up a hand as I finished my conversation with Melvin. Once I ended the call, I shook my head. “He didn’t make it.”
“Desmond Lemon?” Doug asked.
I nodded, studying Susan’s face. “You okay?” I asked after a moment of silence. “With the shooting, I mean?”
“Yeah, I know it was justified. I don’t like that he was an elderly man who was doing what he thought he had to do to avenge his granddaughter, but he endangered all of our lives. It was unavoidable.”
I wasn’t surprised Susan was handling it well. She was as mentally prepared to do this job as anyone I knew. Doug shot a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll head to the hospital to process the body. Afterward, I’ll get the evidence packaged and have it sent up to the state lab first thing in the morning. We should have the results back by the end of the week and my report will be on the DA’s desk by Monday morning.”
Stifling the trepidation I momentarily felt at the thought of Susan enduring another grand jury hearing, I
thanked Cagle and gave him the name of my contact at the crime lab in La Mort. “I’ll need them to compare the casings from the Taylor murder to Desmond’s pistol.”
“I thought Desmond confessed to the murder.”
“He did, but I want to confirm it’s the same weapon. Have it scrubbed for DNA, too, if you don’t mind. I want this case nice and tidy.”
Cagle nodded and walked away, leaving Susan and me alone in my office. I dropped to my chair and sighed heavily. Now that the case was over, I could turn my attention back to the turmoil in my personal life. I wanted to meet my biological father, but I also wanted to speak to the man I’d called “Dad” all my life. Susan watched as I called Ezekiel Wolf’s phone again. I was in luck this time.
After the third ring, I heard the smooth voice of Ezekiel Wolf on the other end.
“Dad, it’s me, Clint.” Although I now knew he wasn’t my biological father, I couldn’t call him anything but Dad. “I know it’s been too long, but I thought I’d call and catch up.”
Susan quietly stood to her feet and waved goodbye as she let herself out of my office. She closed the door behind her and I settled in to speak with him. After answering a dozen of his questions and updating him on my life and letting him know that Mom was staying over, a long and awkward silence fell between us. I didn’t know how to broach the subject of my real dad.
CHAPTER 47
“Dad,” I finally said after a long moment, “Mom told me you weren’t my biological father.” I heard him suck in his breath, but I continued speaking. “She said she met you after she was already pregnant with me. According to her, my real dad is a man named Garvan Montana.”
“She told you that?” There was a sigh and a long pause on the other end of the phone. Finally, he spoke but his voice was so low I could barely hear him. “I am your dad, Clint. Sure, I might not be your biological father, but I will always claim you as my son and I sure hope you will always claim me as your dad.”
I bit down hard, remembering all of the good times we’d shared over the years. I had never suspected I was adopted. He’d never made me feel like anything except his own flesh and blood. “You’re right…you are my real dad.” I rubbed my face with a tired hand. “I just don’t understand why y’all never told me. I think I had a right to know.”
“It’s not the kind of thing you tell a youngster—you wait until the child is old enough to process the information and accept it. We did intend on telling you when you reached adulthood, but your mother insisted on waiting even after you turned eighteen. For what, I don’t know, but she wanted to keep waiting. We had planned to tell you and then you announced you were getting married, so she said we should wait some more. And then Abby was born, and then…and then…” His voice trailed off. “After what happened with Abby and Michele…well, there never seemed to be a right moment.”
“How’d it go down between you and Mom? When you first met her, I mean.”
Ezekiel went on to explain how my mom was pregnant and separated, but still married, when he first met her. He fell head-over-heels in love with her and would’ve done anything for her. He allowed her to put his name on my birth certificate and he raised me as his own blood. “To be honest,” he said, “a red flag went up when I found out she had a daughter who never called or visited. I’d often ask what had happened between the two of them, but her responses were always vague. After you turned two, I began to realize what had happened.”
He stopped speaking for a long moment and I had to ask if he was still there. Instead of answering me, he continued his story.
“You were a little terror, that’s for sure. You got into everything and it drove your mom crazy. One day, you had managed to break through the plastic lock she’d placed on the kitchen cabinets and you scattered the pots and pans everywhere. That really set her off. It was the first time she hit you. It shocked the life out of me. I’d never seen that side of her before and I let her know how much I disapproved. It was our first real fight. Unfortunately, it was the first of many—until she got some help.”
“I remember her spanking me,” I said, “but I always figured I deserved the whippings I got. I was a bad kid.”
“You weren’t a bad kid, you were just all boy. I kept your mom off of you when she’d get angry, but I finally told her I’d take you and leave if she didn’t get help. That really freaked her out and she made an appointment with a psychiatrist that very day. They put her on medication and she’s been a different woman ever since.”
“I never knew.”
“It’s not something she wants to relive. The biggest hurdle was admitting she needed help. After that, it was all sunshine and rainbows. Well, there were some storm clouds at times, but she weathered them okay.”
“What do you mean?”
“You certainly tested her last nerve.” He stopped and chuckled. “You were a handful, that’s for sure. While I was home it wasn’t so bad, but she’d often call me when I was offshore and beg me to cut my hitch short.”
“I was a handful. I remember throwing a rock through the kitchen window just to see if it would break. I thought she would kill me right then and there, but she didn’t.”
“I think the worst was when you tied one end of a rope to the rear bumper of her car and the other end to the oak tree in the yard.”
“Yeah, that was bad.” I lowered my head. “She nearly ripped her bumper off. I can’t believe how clueless I was as a kid.”
“When your mom sank to the ground and cried instead of beating you with a baseball bat, I knew the change was real.”
I was thoughtful for a while and neither of us spoke for a long moment. Finally, I asked if he knew why Garvan had taken Crystal and run.
“Yeah, she eventually told me everything, but it wasn’t until after she finally decided to get help—after I threatened to leave her if she ever hit you in anger again.”
“Would you have really taken me and left her had she hit me again?”
“Absolutely.”
After another long moment of silence, I asked, “Would it bother you if I made contact with Garvan Montana?”
“Not as long as you always remember I’m your real dad.”
CHAPTER 48
Saturday, November 26
Galveston, Texas
It was almost noon when Susan and I pulled into the sandy parking lot of Montana and Daughter’s Surf Shop. I stepped out of my old pickup truck and watched as Susan walked to where I stood near the front bumper. It was a little north of seventy degrees and the wind that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico caressed her hair like soft fingers, making single strands dance across the sides of her face.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.
I took a breath and nodded. I was a grown man and I couldn’t believe how nervous I felt about meeting my biological father. I’d spent a few restless nights going over in my head exactly what I would say to Garvan and Crystal Montana once we met. I hadn’t reached out to them again since Crystal had blocked me on BudRelat, so this visit would probably come as a surprise to them.
“Do you think your sister will be mad to see you?” Susan asked. She cast a curious glance in the direction of the surf shop, which was elevated on thick wooden creosote posts. Three teenage boys were hurrying out of the shop carrying surf boards and we stepped out of the way to let them pass.
Without answering Susan, I headed up the wide concrete steps toward the front of the shop, smiling as I walked. This was my kind of place—seventies and short sleeves in November. I wondered if it stayed this way all winter as I pushed my way into the crowded business. I turned sideways and squeezed by a few tourists who were taking pictures of a large shark mounted high on the wall. I had just squirted through to the other side of the group when Susan grabbed my arm.
“There,” she hissed, “that’s your sister.”
My eyes followed her gaze and I saw a lady who was unmistakably my sister. She was folding T-shirts in front of a round table near the back
of the room. Her cut off blue jean shorts were stylish and she wore a white T-shirt that bore the logo of the surf shop. I noticed Susan ambling away from me and I knew she was giving me space to introduce myself.
I moved closer to the table and took a breath when Crystal looked up. She asked if she could help me. I found myself stammering. I cursed silently, wondering how it was that I could stare death right in the face without flinching, yet here I was scared to death to meet my long lost sister.
“Is something wrong?” Crystal set down the shirt she had been folding. “You look like you need some air.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Is Garvan Montana here?”
Crystal tossed her head to indicate toward the back of the shop. “He took a group out to the beach for surfing lessons. They should be coming in at any time—it ended at noon.”
I nodded and stood there staring at her.
“Is there something else?” Her tone was no-nonsense and I liked it.
“Actually, there is.” I stepped forward and handed her the picture I’d been holding. It was of her, our mom, and our dad. “Do you recognize this picture?”
Crystal leaned in and her brow furrowed as she studied the photograph. “What…who…how’d you get this?”
“I got it from your mother—our mother.”
Her face turned as pale as the shirt she wore. She turned her eyes up at me. “You…are you the one who contacted me on BudRelat?”
I shot a thumb toward Susan, who was making a show of sifting through the swimsuits. “My fiancée contacted you on my behalf. I don’t really know how to use those social media websites. I’m too busy spending time in the real world to waste time on social media.”