by BJ Bourg
The bayou flowed from north to south and was parallel to Bayou Magnolia.
“What is this waterway?” I searched the bank on our side, looking for any sign that the sniper had been by here.
“It’s called Little Bayou,” Dawn said. “Pelican Pass flows into this bayou just to the north of us. If the killer got in a boat right here, he could be anywhere by now. We’ll never catch him.”
I jerked my rifle to my shoulder and used the scope to scan the opposite bank, searching for a hint of a trail leading out of the bayou. There was none.
“Hey, look here,” Dawn called from several feet to my right. “I found something.”
I strode over to where she stood and shook my head when I saw the deep divot in the ground from the hull of a boat. “Son-of-a-bitch got away!”
I grounded my rifle and snatched up my radio and called for Norm. He answered in a shaky voice.
“Where the hell are you?” he asked. “It’s nearly three o’clock. I thought y’all were dead.”
I told him where we were and he said he’d be there in a few minutes. I then turned to Dawn, who had shrugged out of my ghillie suit and dropped to the ground, leaning her back against a tree. Her snug jeans were dirtier than when I’d first seen her and her T-shirt was ripped in several places, including near the collar.
“How’d you get dirty with my ghillie suit on?” I asked, feigning surprise.
“The muddy water just came right up through the fabric.” She grunted. “You do need a woman sniper on your team—someone who can teach y’all how to make those things waterproof. This job doesn’t have to be so hard.”
“Jerry has spent years trying to convince me to buy sniper mats, rain gear, knee pads, and elbow pads. It’ll never happen—not on my watch, at least.”
“Not even rain gear?”
“Not even.” I shook my head to emphasize my point. “It makes too much noise and the plastic hood will interfere with your hearing.”
“Like I said earlier, you’re too much of a hard ass. You need to lighten up a bit.”
“Sniper work is not for the weak. You’ve got to be willing to brave all of the elements and adapt to any environment.”
She grunted. “You can count me out, then.”
“You’re not fooling me, Dawn Luke.” Although she was covered in mud and the camouflage paint was smeared across her face in weird patches, it was still very obvious she was insanely beautiful. There was no doubt in my mind the rumors were true—no man in his right mind would pass up a chance to ask her out. “You’re as tough as they come. You didn’t complain one bit on the trip over here.”
“I couldn’t complain—I had to reserve oxygen to stay alive.”
I laughed and took up a spot facing her, leaning against a downed log. After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke.
“That was a hell of a first date,” she joked. “While the company was nice and the scenery was great, I don’t want to do it again.”
CHAPTER 7
It was nearly four o’clock when Norm arrived. Once Dawn and I had piled into the boat, he explained that the Simoneaux brothers took their boat and headed home to tell their parents what had happened.
“Did y’all try to stop them?” Dawn asked.
Norm nodded. “But they said we couldn’t force them to be a witness and said if we didn’t have a warrant for them, they were out of here.”
“Why didn’t y’all arrest them for illegally harvesting alligators?”
“I…um, I guess we figured they’d been through enough shit for one day.”
Dawn and I traded glances and she turned to Norm. “Do you know where they live?”
“Frank Simoneaux and his boys?” He nodded. “It’s not far, right where Pelican Pass spills into Little Bayou, but I don’t think we should—”
“Good, then take us there.” Dawn said. “I’ve got questions I need them to answer, and if they refuse, I’ll throw them in jail for stealing the alligators from Wellman Boudreaux’s property.”
“If you say so,” Norm said, “but they don’t like people on their property and they weren’t in the mood to talk when I last saw them.”
Dawn told him to let us worry about that and we settled in for the short boat ride.
The sun was slipping behind the trees and the shadows were growing long. I wanted to get to their property before darkness fell so we’d at least be able to see the layout of the spread without giving ourselves away. They were victims, for sure, but they were also on edge and emotional, which were the right ingredients for a showdown.
When Norm turned west onto Pelican Pass, he slowed the boat motor and explained that we were about a mile from where he’d dropped me off earlier in the day. After he’d coasted a few more yards, he pointed to a wooden structure up ahead on the southern bank of the waterway, which had overflowed onto the shore due to heavy rains earlier in the week.
The Simoneaux homestead was simply a square building with two wings attached. The wing on the left served as a screened porch and the other appeared to be the main entrance—due to the wooden steps leading up from the water—and probably doubled as a sitting area or laundry room. I was guessing they had a generator for electricity, because a satellite dish protruded from the corner above the entryway.
The house was situated on large pilings and hovered about eight feet above the water. I asked Norm if we were supposed to drive right up to the front steps.
“Not usually, but the tide’s high right now,” Norm explained. “The actual bank is about fifty feet behind us.”
I nodded and squinted, trying to pierce through the thick leaves to see inside the screened porch. I thought I detected movement, but couldn’t be sure. It was difficult to see through the heavy screen. I turned my attention to the front of the house. There were two windows along the front wall and the curtain on the left window was parted down the middle. I felt my skin crawl as I realized someone could be watching from inside.
I felt a hand grip my bicep and I turned toward Dawn. “What is it?” I asked.
Her head was facing toward the left, but her eyes were trained straight ahead, toward the entrance. “Look in the doorway.”
I cast a subtle glance in that direction and saw a rifle barrel reaching out from the shadows of the room. Since my own rifle was several feet away from me, my immediate instinct was to draw my pistol and fire, but I resisted the urge to do so. According to Norm, we were in their front yard and, for all they knew, we could be the killers coming to finish off the lot of them.
“Shut off the engine and don’t move,” Dawn said to Norm. Once he did, she rose slowly to her feet and waved her hand high in the air. “Mr. Simoneaux, I’m Dawn Luke with the sheriff’s office. I have London Carter and Norm Brady with me. Can we approach your house, sir?”
The muzzle of the rifle didn’t waver and there was no hint of movement from inside. After several long and tense seconds, Dawn called out again. “Sir, we’re charged with finding your son’s killer…we need your help.”
After another long pause, I thought I saw the muzzle of the rifle lower just a bit. Movement from the screened porch caught my eye and I turned to see a side door open. Now that we were closer to the house, I could see another set of steps leading from the screened porch to an aluminum hull flatboat that was tied to one of the pilings.
An older man in his early sixties climbed down the steps and boarded the flatboat. Although he was thick in the gut, he appeared light on his feet. He pulled the rope on his outboard engine and it fired to life. Settling down on the rear bench, he slowly made his way toward us. He wore faded jeans, a striped flannel shirt, and a crumpled ball cap, but he was clean shaven.
A quick glance toward the main entrance let me know the rifle was still pointed in our direction. Any wrong move toward Papa Simoneaux, and it was on.
The man slowed his boat as he drew near us, and it was only then that I noticed the forty-four magnum revolver strapped to his belt. When the front of
the aluminum hull made gentle contact with our boat, Dawn caught it and held the two boats together.
“What do you want with my boys?” the man asked. His eyes were red and his face gaunt. “I’ve already lost one today, and I’m not going to lose any more.”
I didn’t have kids, so I couldn’t imagine exactly what he was going through, but I did know the pain of losing loved ones. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, extending my hand. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring the killer to justice.”
Mr. Simoneaux hesitated, but finally sighed and shook my hand.
“We need to interview your sons to find out exactly what happened out there.” Dawn shot a thumb in my direction. “He’s the sniper leader for the sheriff’s office. I brought him onboard because it looks like your sons were targeted from a long distance.”
“We already know what happened,” Mr. Simoneaux said. “Wellman Boudreaux and his boys killed my son. They’ve been feuding with my family over the rights to our property for fifty years now.” He paused and waved his hand around. “My family used to own all this property—the whole strip between Pelican Pass and Devil’s Lake, but they’ve been stealing it little by little, and they won’t stop until they’ve taken all of it.”
Dawn glanced at me and then back at the man. “So, you think this murder has something to do with this ongoing land dispute?”
“No one else has a reason to attack my family. They’re the only enemies we have.”
Dawn chewed on her lower lip, as though thinking how best to ask the next question. “We could really use Orville and Quentin’s help in recreating the events that led up to Norris’ murder. It might help us develop the evidence we need to put the Boudreaux family away.”
Mr. Simoneaux eyed Dawn with suspicion. “They said they already gave statements, so why do you need to talk to them again?”
“I wasn’t there when Dawn interviewed them,” I interjected. “I need to know more about where they went and why they were there in order to formulate a motive for the killing.”
“How I know you won’t arrest them when you see them?” he asked.
“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it,” Dawn said.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Because we drove up to your front door in the middle of the day,” she said flatly. “If we wanted to arrest your sons, we could’ve come through the back door under the cover of darkness with guns blazing.”
Mr. Simoneaux chewed on her words for a bit, and then waved his hand in the air. With that simple motion, the rifle muzzle was lowered and a young boy appeared in the doorway.
“We’re coming inside, Junior,” Mr. Simoneaux said.
Junior waved back and then disappeared into the house.
CHAPTER 8
After tying Norm’s boat to the front steps of the Simoneaux home, we stepped out and followed Mr. Simoneaux through the main doorway of his house. We turned left and found ourselves in the kitchen area. The first thing that got my attention was the smell of freshly fried shrimp that hung thick in the air, giving off a foggy appearance in the small enclosure. The next thing I noticed was the grave danger we were in.
A dozen men and women were scattered about the kitchen and living room areas, and they were all armed like they were going to war with a small country. Some had shotguns resting against their shoulders while others held scoped rifles at port arms, but the majority of them sported tactical slings with AR-15s dangling from the end of them.
Norm immediately bolted backward and turned to leave, but two men who were wielding riot guns closed the gap in the doorway and stood like statues, blocking his path. When he turned toward me, his plump face was pale.
“What’s going on in here?” Dawn asked calmly.
“This is my private home and I can do in here whatever the hell I want.” Mr. Simoneaux folded his arms across his chest and stared defiantly at us. “This is still America and we have a right to defend our homes.”
“And defend it, we will,” said a man from the back of the room. His hair was so long it hung over his eyes, and I wondered if he could even see well enough to take an accurate shot. “From all enemies—be they civilian or governmental.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re defending your home,” I said. “It looks like you’re forming a posse.”
No one said a word, but several people shifted their feet and I heard someone drag a pistol from its holster. I could feel the hate as they stared unwavering at us. They clearly had a plan of action and had been in the process of executing that plan when we showed up. At the moment, we stood between them and their plan, and they didn’t like it one bit.
As I studied the group, one thing became clear—they were willing and able to attack us if necessary. They would rather shoot three cops in cold blood than give up on their mission. I also noticed something else—they all looked to Mr. Simoneaux for guidance. He was driving this train. If he told them to execute us, the room would explode into blood and bullets, but I was going to take some of them with me, beginning with the head of the family himself.
“Maybe we are forming a posse and maybe we aren’t,” Mr. Simoneaux finally said. “What the hell do you think you’re going to do about it?”
I knew if I said the wrong thing we could all die here today. While I wasn’t afraid to die and I had no family to worry about, I didn’t want to do something that would risk the lives of Dawn and Norm.
I scanned the crowd for a long moment, deliberately taking my time. I wanted them to know we were not intimidated by their superior show of force and firepower. Finally, I turned back to Mr. Simoneaux and said, “It looks like we all want the same thing—we just want it in different ways. We want the killer in jail and you want him dead.”
Mr. Simoneaux pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re right about me wanting him dead, and dead he will be.”
The crowd cheered and waved their guns in the air. In my peripheral vision I saw Norm jerk in his skin. Dawn stood stone-faced and calm, her hand only inches from her pistol. I knew if shit turned south she’d also be sending a few of them to hell ahead of us.
I started to speak in my normal tone of voice and Mr. Simoneaux had to raise his hand to quiet the crowd. “What was that?” he asked.
“Do you know who killed your son?”
“I have a good idea.”
“But do you know for sure?” I pressed. “Look, I get it that you want your son’s killer dead. Shit, I wanted to murder the bastard who killed my family, too, but I couldn’t just go off and take the law into my own hands.” I conveniently left out the part where I had been in the planning stages of taking Dan Stevens’ life when he was killed in another DWI-related crash.
Mr. Simoneaux’s face softened just a bit, and I knew I was getting somewhere. “You lost your family?”
I nodded. “A drunk driver killed them, and I knew for a fact it was Dan Stevens. You don’t know for sure who killed your son.”
That brought a chorus of complaints from the crowd, but Mr. Simoneaux silenced them. “Do you know who killed my boy?”
I frowned. “No, sir, I don’t, but we’d appreciate it if you allowed us to do our job—to get the proof we need to put the real killer away.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because if you kill the wrong person, the real killer will still be out there and will probably get away with it—even if we catch him later, because his lawyer will argue you killed the real murderer.”
Mr. Simoneaux seemed to mull it over. He turned and searched the crowd, stopping when his eyes fell on a woman who was sitting at the table. The woman’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she was still wearing her nightclothes. She nodded and lowered her head.
His shoulders sank a bit and he took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he wiped his forehead. “I’ll give you one week to catch my boy’s killer. If you don’t get him by then, I’m going to bring hell down on Wellman Boudreaux’s mansion—and no one w
ill be able to stop me.” He sighed and pointed toward the back door, addressing the crowd in his house. “Go on out to the screened porch and give us a minute alone.”
When no one moved, he stomped his boot on the wooden floor. “Now, damn it! Get out there and give me a minute alone with these officers.”
The crowd slowly started gravitating toward the side door and spilled out onto the porch. The long-haired fellow from earlier paused by the door and hefted the AR-15 in his hand. “I’ll be right out here if you need me, Frank. Just say the word and they’re toast.”
I wanted to rush across the room and stomp his face in, but I held myself back. If history was any indicator of the future, I knew I’d be seeing him again.
When we were alone with Mr. Simoneaux and the woman at the table, he turned to Dawn.
“You said you wanted to talk to my boys. Is that all you want to do—talk?”
“Yes, it is,” she said.
“What about the gators they lifted from Wellman Boudreaux’s land? Do you intend to try and arrest them for that?”
Dawn shook her head. “I believe you’ve all been through enough today, sir.”
Mr. Simoneaux studied Dawn’s face, as though not sure if he should trust someone who wore a badge. Finally, he turned and walked through the living room, waving at us to follow him. He then led us down a long hallway and said, “They’re on the back porch waiting for y’all.”
CHAPTER 9
The back porch of the Simoneaux home was wider than the side porch and deeper. There was a clear view of the forest back there and I stepped toward the railing. From my vantage point I could see where the overflow of the swollen pass ended and the land began. Hidden among the trees in the shallow water were several boats. I nodded to myself and felt a sense of respect for this shrewd old man. He concealed the boats out back and hid an army in his house. If he wanted to prevent an attack on his place he would’ve flaunted his muscle. But that’s not what he did. Nope, this man didn’t want to scare away his enemies—he wanted to lure them in and decimate them should they make an appearance.