London Carter Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

by BJ Bourg

  Dawn grabbed a fingerprint kit from a drawer and began dusting the strip of tape. I stood back and watched, distracted by my stomach growling. I looked at my phone. It was already three o’clock. “When you’re done with that, do you want to grab some lunch?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t look up from the table. “Norris’ autopsy is at five. I figured you might want to come, since you’re lead on this case with me.”

  “I never pass up a chance to see the insides of another human.”

  She didn’t say anything for a good minute as she worked, but she finally whistled and held up the tape. She had dusted the surface of my tape, put another strip of tape on top of it, and then attached all of it to a white fingerprint card. “Three prints—looks like middle, ring, and pinky of his right hand.”

  I was excited by the prospect of learning Patrick’s identity. What if he was a wanted man? If I was correct about him, taking him down would be quite a feat, and I always welcomed a challenge. “Let’s hope he’s in the system,” I said aloud, but more to myself.

  Dawn walked into the next room and I overheard her speaking with Detective Melvin Ford, asking him to run Patrick’s print through the AFIS (Automated Fingerprint Identification System) database. “Call me as soon as you know something.”

  Next, we rushed through a quick lunch of hamburgers and fries at a local diner and then headed for the coroner’s office, where we watched Doctor Ally Fitch perform an unnecessarily thorough autopsy on Norris Simoneaux. Once she was done, she removed her gloves and mask and sighed. “This one’s pretty obvious—single gunshot wound to the head. The bullet entered his left ear canal and exited near the right side of his jaw, destroying the hinge. He died instantly.” Doctor Fitch made some notes on Norris’ chart and then looked over at Dawn. “Any suspects?”

  Dawn explained what little we knew so far, and then she and I walked out into the waning daylight. It had to be almost seven and I began to get that feeling like I had something to do.

  “What is it?” Dawn asked when she saw the look on my face.

  “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

  She looked back toward the coroner’s office. “Is it your phone?”

  I felt my pocket, shook my head. Suddenly, it hit me. “Shit, the party!”

  “Wait—there was a party and I wasn’t invited?”

  I grunted, remembering Dean’s message, “You can even bring your new girlfriend if you want.”

  “What’s the grunt for?”

  “Well, actually, you were invited,” I explained. “Dean’s having a going away party for his son, who’s heading off to boot camp, but I didn’t think you’d want to go.”

  “I’m a single woman with no family in town—why in the hell wouldn’t I want to go to a party? It’s Friday night. What else am I supposed to do?”

  “Point taken.”

  I gave her the address and she drove us to the substation. As I was getting into my truck, she promised to meet me at the party within the hour, and I hurried home to shower and change.

  As I was standing in my bare feet buttoning my shirt, a thought occurred to me. Is this a date? Dawn had made more than one reference to being single. I was never quick on signals from women and most of them gave up on me before I figured out they were interested. Is she dropping hints? I quickly dismissed the notion. She could get anyone she wanted, so why would she want me?

  CHAPTER 15

  Dean’s house was massive and it was situated on a dozen acres of property bordering a patch of forest land. I’d been there a few times to visit, but had only seen his son a few times. The kid was always inside playing video games and, according to Dean, would only come out for food.

  There were a few dozen cars already there when I arrived. They were parked up and down both sides of the long driveway and some were even on the street in front of his house. I found a spot under a bright streetlight and began the long walk to the house. I idly glanced at the cars as I walked and I came to an abrupt stop when I saw the red MINI Cooper. Shit! Sally’s here!

  I thought about turning around and walking right the hell away, but then remembered that Dawn would be there. I wanted to avoid problems, but I wasn’t passing up a chance to hang out with Dawn in a social setting. So, I continued on and Sally was the first person I saw when I reached the front yard. When I stepped into the light from the side porch, she saw me, too, and made a beeline for me. She smiled warmly when she reached me.

  “Hey, London, how are you?”

  I glanced around. It was dark and there were lots of people milling around. I didn’t see Dawn, but she could’ve been hidden within any of the many groups or somewhere in the shadows. “Look, Sally, it would probably be best if you and I just avoided each other.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but I walked around her and left her standing there. When I reached the rear corner of the house, I saw Dean on the back carport near his boat shed. He was leaning over a giant fryer and there were large platters filled with fried fish, soft shell crabs, and shrimp on a nearby table. Sneaking up behind him, I jabbed him in the ribs and laughed when he jerked around, pretending to lash out at me with the tongs. He gave me a shoulder hug and thanked me for being there. He then leaned close so no one would hear. “Did you see who showed up?”

  “Yeah, she caught me right as I reached the house.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I was trying to keep it quiet, but someone must’ve told her. I can ask her to leave if you want.”

  I waved him off. “Tonight is all about your son. No need for drama. I’ll just stay away from her.”

  I heard some laughing behind me and turned to see Ray with a scantily clad woman clinging to him. He waved—a beer bottle dangling from his hand—when he saw Dean and me standing there. “What’s up, compadres?”

  Recently divorced, Ray had taken to trolling a number of dating websites in search of women looking to have a good time. He’d married right out of high school and was determined to get back all the missed years of sowing his oats. It seemed he had a new woman hanging on him every weekend, and they each seemed wilder than the last. Dean and Jerry had tried to warn him about all the new sexually transmitted diseases that had been invented since we were young, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “Grab some food,” Dean said. “There’s enough to feed the entire department…twice.”

  “We will.” Ray turned to me. “London, Melody here wants to shoot my sniper rifle. Tell her we got a rule about that.”

  “Is there really a rule?” the woman asked, adjusting the bra strap that had fallen off her shoulder. “I don’t believe him.”

  I didn’t have a lot of tolerance for drunk people when I was sober, but I tried to be patient and sound pleasant. “Yeah, I do have a spoken, but unwritten, rule about that sort of thing.”

  “I told you!” Ray lifted his beer bottle triumphantly in the air. “No one can shoot my sniper rifle unless they have my DNA in them. That means you have to be my kid or we have to have sex.”

  The woman giggled. “In that case, I get to shoot your sniper rifle!”

  I glanced over at Dean. “I’m no psychic, but I’m guessing she’s not his kid.”

  Dean doubled over and laughed, trying not to drop the tongs in the hot grease.

  After completing his end zone dance, Ray waved and started to walk off, but I pulled him to the side, out of earshot of his lady friend.

  “How are y’all getting home?” I asked, worried because they were both intoxicated.

  “Not only have I hit all the bases, but I’ve also got them covered.” He lifted his phone and grinned. “My brother brought us here and he’s picking us up.”

  “Good job.” I slapped his back. “Now get back to your friend before she forgets who brought her here.”

  I spoke with Dean for a few more minutes and was about to walk off when he stopped me. “Hold up, London, I want you to meet somebody.” He cupped his hand against his mouth and hollered toward a man who was w
alking across the side yard. “Sergeant Boyd, get over here! I want you to meet my boss.”

  The man turned at the sound of his name and strode across the neatly cropped grass. He was clad in a military dress uniform and he walked like he didn’t want to get anything wrinkled. The left breast of his jacket was weighed down with ribbons and medals. He must’ve been in his mid-sixties—judging by the white on his flat-topped head and mixed in his bushy eyebrows—but there was still a spring in his step. A scar down the left side of his chin added an element of ruggedness that he most likely used to his advantage.

  He greeted Dean and then turned to me, extending his hand. “Staff Sergeant Eric Boyd, United States Marine Corp, retired.”

  I shook his hand and he squeezed mine excessively. Not one to play such games, I maintained my normal grip and nodded. “London Carter—not retired.”

  Eric released my hand and cocked his head to the side. “Technically, I’m retired, but I still have a full-time day job. The missus has been begging me to stop moving around and settle down in the Keys where there’s nothing but sunshine and smiles, but I can’t leave my kids.”

  “How many do you have?” I asked.

  “How many what?”

  “Kids. You said you didn’t want to leave your kids.”

  “Sorry about the miscommunication. I don’t have any offspring—that I know about.” Eric slapped my back and laughed. He then shrugged. “In all seriousness, the missus and I just didn’t see eye to eye in that department, apparently. I don’t know if it’s her fault or mine, but we’ve never been able to conceive.”

  He went on to explain that he went around the country facilitating a program at high schools where he prepared young men and women for military life. “It’s a program like no other. I don’t sugarcoat anything and I’m harder on them here than what they’ll experience in boot camp. I put them through the ringer—you know, really test their desire to serve.” He nodded his head proudly. “I have the highest graduation rate of any such program. My kids are physically and mentally prepared for anything and everything when they leave my program.”

  “Did Roger go through your program?” I asked. Roger was Dean’s nineteen-year-old son.

  “He did, and he’s one of the best I’ve seen.” Eric put an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “It’s not easy sending a child off to war—or so I’ve been told—but this man shouldn’t worry. His son is granite, through and through. He’ll be drinking gasoline and shitting fire in no time. A chip off the old block, I’m sure.”

  Dean laughed, but I could tell he was troubled. Roger was conceived the night before Dean left for boot camp. Dean was eighteen at the time and not at all ready to be a dad, but he did the honorable thing and married Roger’s mother a year later. It appeared to be the wrong decision, because she walked out on him and the kids a few years ago. No explanation, no good-bye—just up and left.

  “So,” Eric said, “Dean tells me you’re a hell of a sniper instructor. Would you mind visiting the school someday and speaking with my students? Maybe give them a demonstration? I think it would be inspiring. If you enjoy it, maybe you could join our team.”

  I’d never thought of working with kids, but the idea appealed to me. What if I could make a difference in a young life? I could think of nothing more rewarding that helping young people blossom into decent and productive adults. I smiled and fished one of my cards from my wallet. “That sounds great.” I handed him the card. “Call me whenever and we’ll set something up.”

  When Eric walked off, Dean frowned. “It’s hard seeing Roger go. I left the military for him, and now he’s leaving me for the military.”

  I only nodded. Like Sergeant Boyd, I had no idea what it was like to send a child away to war. Dean had gotten out of the military after only serving four years to be close to his family, so I knew how much they meant to him.

  “It’s not the same military I left, London. These days, things are a lot worse.” Dean took some fish out of the fryer and tossed them into a large dish. “Anyone and everyone can be a terrorist out there, and they’re more evil than ever. In fact, I saw on the news that one of our military snipers turned on his own men. Killed twelve of our boys over the course of a month before they even realized he was the shooter. It was so unexpected. That never would’ve happened back in my day. We could depend on each other.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I saw a report where some terrorists strapped bombs to little kids and sent them in the midst of our troops to beg for candy. According to the news anchor, eleven of our guys were killed and twenty others wounded. You can’t trust anyone these days.”

  Dean’s bottom jaw was jutting out at an odd angle. “You’re supposed to be telling me I’m being paranoid, and that everything will be just fine—not agreeing with me and one-upping my stories.”

  I winced. “Sorry. At least he’ll be up in the air where it’s safer.”

  “Do you know how many military planes are shot out of the sky every year?”

  “I’m going to let you finish up here,” I said, realizing I should probably leave Dean alone to fight with his demons. “I’ll go catch up with some of your other guests.”

  Dean grunted and turned back to the fryer, muttering something under his breath.

  I then began mingling, stopping often to visit with some of the officers I knew. There were some new faces, but I knew most of the people there. I had just turned away from one of my old buddies when I saw her. My eyes widened and my heart cut a flip in my chest.

  CHAPTER 16

  Dawn seemed to float in slow motion as she broke from one of the small groups of people socializing and stepped into the glow of an overhead light. She was searching the various groups, her brown hair flowing over her bare shoulders. Her face was set as though she were on a mission. She finally turned toward me and flashed a perfect smile. She waved and headed in my direction. The blue dress she wore was thin and clung to her sculptured body. As she walked, I could see the toned muscles of her legs and thighs ripple beneath the fabric.

  I knew if I tried to speak I’d probably stammer, so I just kept my mouth shut and smiled when she reached me.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said. “The sheriff called and kept me on the phone for thirty minutes.”

  “I haven’t been here long.” I felt a stirring in my chest when I looked into her brown eyes. They sparkled in the light and seemed to penetrate through to my soul. I looked away for fear she might be able to read my thoughts, asked, “What’re you drinking?”

  “Water,” she said, moving to stand beside me and scan the crowd. “What about you?”

  “Same. I’ll be right back.” I walked to a table that was set up as a bar and asked for two waters. The girl twisted the cap off of two plastic bottles and handed them to me. As I turned to go back to where I’d left Dawn, I couldn’t help but notice that every man within viewing distance was staring at her as though she’d just stepped off of a cloud. If she noticed, she didn’t pay it much attention. I figured a girl like her was probably accustomed to men gawking at her.

  “Thanks,” she said when I handed her one of the bottles. “Why don’t we grab some food and find a place to sit?”

  My stomach was growling again, so I readily agreed. When we had filled up two plates with fried shrimp, barbecue chicken, and three or four side dishes, we found a quiet table at the edge of the property near a row of round bushes, and took our seats.

  We talked about the case while we ate, and we both admitted to having no clue who killed Norris. I asked if there’d been any word from Melvin on Patrick’s fingerprints, but she said no.

  “I’ll have to call that little shit first thing in the morning,” she said. “He probably forgot about it or just put it off. You know how it goes with some of these guys—the only case that’s important to them is the one they’re working.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Is he here?”

  “He’d better not be. If he is, I’ll make him leave to
run the prints.”

  I laughed, but knew she would.

  I finished eating before she did, as she appeared to be mostly picking at her food, and I asked where she was from. “You don’t have the typical Cajun accent.”

  “Thanks…I think?” She grinned. “I’m from Arkansas originally. Haven’t been home in a while, though.”

  “Yeah, the word around the campfire is you’re married to your job.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not to me,” I said. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah, I guess they’re right. I think it’s why I’ve never settled down and gotten married.” Dawn began using her fork to play with what was left of her food. “I’ve seen too many families torn apart because the job is so demanding. It’s what happened to Brandon. His wife just didn’t understand the commitment. Instead of respecting what he did and supporting him, she always viewed it as a competition—a competition she was constantly losing.”

  I’d never considered getting married and having kids, and I said as much.

  “Why not?” She looked up from her food, her brown eyes curious.

  I hesitated.

  “What is it?” she pressed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I don’t like talking about myself,” I said. “It’s all rather boring anyway. Let’s talk about why you—”

  “London Carter, if you think you’re going to get off that easy, you grossly underestimate me.”

  Grinning, I said, “Maybe some other time.”

  Dawn leaned across the table and didn’t stop until she was about three inches from my face. “Truth or dare,” she said in a sultry voice.

  I knew if I said truth she would ask me to tell her the truth about why I’d never been married, so I smiled coyly and said, “Dare.”

  Dawn settled back in her seat and plopped her elbows on the table. Grinning wide, she said, “I dare you to tell me why you never considered getting married and having kids.”