by BJ Bourg
“I know the difference between a deer and a human.”
I sat in silence for a few seconds, surprised at the revelation. Did this mean Wilton was a murderer? If so, was it possible the murdered man had a family? And did this family somehow found out what he had done? That would be incentive to kill him, but how would they have connected the dots if only Wilton and Cade knew about it?
“So, are you saying Wilton killed this old man?”
“You see, that’s the thing. Back then, I thought he did, but after a while I realized it couldn’t have been him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wilton doesn’t have the stones to kill anyone. I figured that out once I got to know him better. He’s a salesman, so he talks his way out of shit. He’s not a fighter. And he was scared to death when I first saw him that day. Usually, when people do something bad like that, they’re all jacked up and wired. Not him—he was scared shitless.” He lifted a finger. “Another thing…he was deadly afraid that I would say something and I got the feeling he wasn’t worried about the cops finding out as much as he was worried about someone else.”
“Who?” I asked.
“I don’t have a clue. I didn’t see anyone else.” He leaned close and whispered. “But if you find out who killed Wilton, you’ll find the one who killed the old man—if it was just one.”
“Oh, so now it’s more than one killer?”
“Could be. The old man was beaten really bad…like more than one person did it. My guess is the people who killed the old man ended up killing Wilton to keep him quiet.” Cade glanced over his shoulder again. “And if Wilton told them about our arrangement, I’m next on the list.”
I studied Cade, remembering what Rachael had said about his lies. “What if it’s all bullshit? What if there’s no old man and you just killed Wilton because y’all got into a lover’s spat?”
He laughed out loud. “I haven’t had sex with anyone, man or woman, in years. Not my thing anymore.”
“What is your thing?”
He scowled. “You already know.”
I nodded, knowing full well what he was talking about. The only thing that got him off anymore was drugs. I could’ve thrown out the names of any number of popular street drugs and he would’ve probably been addicted to it.
“What if you killed the old man?” I asked. “What if you just made up this story about Wilton to cover up what you did? He’s not around to deny it, so why not pin it on the dead guy?”
“Think about it…why would Wilton pay me if I did the killing?”
He did have a point. “What did the old man look like?”
“Well, his face was too messed up to see who he was, but I saw patches of white hair on his head.” He grimaced. “The blood was bright red against his white hair. It was spooky. I’d never seen a dead body before and it looked really weird. It looked like he was just sleeping, but with a lot of blood all over him.”
“Did you notice any other injuries on him?”
Cade shook his head. “There was blood everywhere, so it was hard to see where it was coming from. I definitely know his face and head were messed up bad, but that’s about all I know for sure.”
“What about his clothes?”
“If I remember right, he had on a red and black checkered shirt and some old blue jeans. He was wearing some faded leather boots, too.”
I jotted down the clothing descriptions. “What’d you do when you noticed it was a body?”
“At first, I thought about running away and just leaving him there with the three-wheeler, but I had already touched the blanket and knew my fingerprints were on it.”
I grunted silently to myself, appreciating the fact that he didn’t know we were unable to identify fingerprints on fabric. While there had been major breakthroughs in recent studies and we were hopeful to someday be able to recover fingerprints from fabric, that wasn’t even close to possible thirty years ago.
“If someone was to ever find the body someday,” Cade continued, “I knew no one would believe me over Wilton, so I realized I had to go through with burying him, but I had to put the body where no one could find him—not even Wilton.”
“That way, you’d be able to bribe him endlessly, because he’d never be able to regain control over the body again.”
“Correct, you are.”
“That’s pretty clever of you, especially as a young kid.”
“I had watched my share of mob movies.” His chest seemed to expand with pride. “I was smart enough to figure out that the one who knows where the bodies are buried holds all the cards.”
“Weren’t you worried Wilton would tell his cohorts about you and they would do to you what they did to the old man?”
“Like I said, he was terrified I’d say anything, so he was willing to give me whatever I wanted just to keep me quiet.”
I glanced over my notes, returning to where he’d left off in his story. “So, what’d you do once Wilton was gone?”
He took a deep breath. “I unchained the old man and dragged him behind the lumberyard. I rode the Big Red home to get a shovel and a flashlight, because I knew it would be dark soon. When I got back, I put the old man on the rack and drove him deep in the woods until I came to a spot where the trail disappeared. I went even farther and didn’t stop until I came to this big oak tree that I’d found when I was little. I used to climb it with my middle school friends. It was our secret hangout and we’d even built a tree house high up in the branches. When I got older, I started taking girls out there because my friends had moved away and no one else knew about it.” He shook his head. “But I quit going back there after I…I…you know, buried that man.”
“So, you buried him near a big oak tree?”
Cade nodded. “Not right near it, but in that area. I can show you the exact spot.”
“Why don’t you just draw us a map? I’d rather not take you out of here.”
“I can’t draw a map from memory. I’d have to see the area to remember where to go. You know how it is—once I get there it’ll all come back to me.”
I didn’t know if I believed him. Some prisoners would say anything to get out of jail, even for a few hours. “I don’t know. Do you really think you’d remember the exact spot after all these years? Thirty years is a long time and things change.”
“I’ll never forget it.” He shoved an index finger to his temple. “It’s burned into here like a brand on a steer.”
As I wondered if I should take Cade with us, I asked if he had suddenly become good friends with Wilton after their deal.
“Nah. I didn’t see him around anymore. He stopped riding his dirt bike to the back after that day, so I didn’t really run into him much until we got older. I did see him about a week later. My dad caught me riding the Big Red and he wanted to know where I’d gotten it. When I told him Wilton had given it to me, he made me return it. He said nobody just gives someone else a brand new three-wheeler. He accused me of stealing it and grounded me for a month.”
“What did Wilton say when you returned it?”
“He offered to give me some money instead, so I took it.”
“How much?”
“I don’t remember. Maybe like five hundred dollars that first time. I know it was more money than I’d ever held in my hand at that point.”
A picture was starting to form in my mind. “So, you began extorting money from him?”
Cade leaned back. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“What would you call it?”
“I call it being paid to provide a service.”
“And that service was…?”
“Keeping his secret.”
“You said you didn’t really run into him until y’all got older. How’d that come about?”
“He moved out of the neighborhood and I moved on with my life. I started working offshore and everything was good until the oilfield took a bad turn. And that was when I saw his face on a big sign. He was a big shot ca
r salesman and he was doing pretty good for himself.”
“And you decided you wanted a piece of that action?”
“I just wanted my fair share.” He grinned. “He almost had a heart attack when I walked in the dealership that first time. He was mad initially, but he quickly came around and began to see things my way.”
“And which way was that?”
“Look, I wasn’t asking for a lot. Just a few greenbacks each month to help me get by.” He raised his hands. “It’s not like I robbed the man. I mean, you’ve seen my house. I don’t need much to keep me happy and he could certainly afford it.”
I cocked my head sideways. “So, you haven’t worked a day since then? He’s been supporting you all this time?”
Cade nodded. “Yeah, it’s a shame he’s dead. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”
CHAPTER 27
Captain Boutin agreed to have a transport team meet us at the end of Ender’s Lane with Cade. “They’ll have him there within the hour,” he promised.
Dawn and I quickly left the detention center and drove to the detective bureau, where Dawn jumped in her car and headed for the substation in Seasville. I stopped at home to grab three shovels and an axe from my garage and then I raced to the substation to meet her.
I found her in Becky’s office wolfing down a hamburger. Becky had been the secretary at the substation for as long as anyone could remember—and much longer than I’d been with the sheriff’s office. Without her, the place wouldn’t run.
Dawn’s mouth was full, so she pointed toward a burger wrapped in foil and motioned for me to eat it.
“Thanks. I’m starving.” I plopped in a chair across from her and tore into the packaging.
“Dawn says y’all are going look for a missing man behind Ender’s Lane,” Becky said.
I nodded, chewing a mouthful of juicy burger. Once I swallowed, I said, “Cade Baryon is supposed to take us to this dead guy. He claims Wilton Michot asked him to bury the old man.”
Becky’s brow furrowed. “And how long ago did this happen?”
“Thirty or thirty-one years ago.”
“I’d just started working here,” she said. “It’s strange that I didn’t hear anything about it.”
“You don’t remember some old man going missing?”
She shook her head. “We’ve had a few old men go missing over the years, but they’ve all been found. Most were alive—stranded in their boats, mostly—but one was found dead in a car crash somewhere between here and Alabama. For some reason, he just decided to get in a car and drive out that way. They had no idea where he was heading or why.”
Dawn finished her burger and balled up the wrapper. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it across the room and it landed perfectly in the garbage can.
“Impressive,” I said, and took the last bite of my food.
“You should see me throw a knife.” Dawn winked at me and gathered up the rest of her trash. “I’ll use the bathroom and then meet you outside.”
I nodded and gathered up my garbage. I walked close to the can before dropping it in.
“Why didn’t you throw yours like Dawn?” Becky asked.
“Because I’d miss.” I made my way to my truck and was just closing the door when Dawn walked out into the bright parking lot. She saddled up and strapped on her seatbelt.
“Did you bring a shovel for me?” Dawn asked.
“I did. I also brought one for Cade.”
“Good…I might get to shoot him if he gets stupid with it.”
“Can you at least wait until after he shows us where the body’s buried?”
Dawn laughed. “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises. I called Melvin to see if he could come give us a hand. He said he would get some help and meet us out there.”
I was glad she had and was hoping he’d bring an army. The sooner we found out if Cade was telling the truth or not, the sooner we could get back to figuring out who killed Wilton. “What about K-9?” I asked, “Can you call them to see if they can get a cadaver dog out there?”
“Great idea!” Dawn pulled out her phone and began making calls.
I was just driving to the back of Ender’s Lane when Dawn hung up. “All of the K-9 officers are busy at a drug bust in Chateau, but they’ll try to send one as soon as they break free.”
The City of Chateau was the parish seat for Magnolia and it was located as far north as one could travel without leaving the parish. Even if they were available, it would take them at least an hour to reach us. We couldn’t wait.
I pulled to the side of the street and shut off the engine after we passed the last house on Ender’s Lane. As we sat waiting for the prison van to arrive, I glanced over at Dawn. She was leaning back in the seat, her window open and the wind gently caressing her long brown hair.
“How are you?” I asked. The suddenness of my voice seemed to surprise her.
She turned and smiled. “I’m well. Just thinking about my mom.”
“You know you can leave anytime to go be with her. I’ll cover things here.”
“Thanks…that’s sweet of you,” she said, “but I need to see this through.”
I nodded my understanding and met her gaze. “I admire your dedication to the job. It’s rare and it’s one of the things I like about you.”
Her tanned face seemed to redden just a little. “Do you remember when we were back in the swamps tracking down Norris Simoneaux’s killer?”
“You mean on our first date?”
“Yeah, that.” She grinned and exposed a row of perfect teeth. She then looked away and stared down at her hands. “I…it was exciting watching you do what you do. I’d never felt that way about someone before.”
My pulse began to quicken. “What do you mean?”
“I…I don’t know how to explain it. You were so focused on what you were doing—on the tiniest little detail of the trail—yet you were completely aware of our surroundings. It was amazing to watch.”
“I was just doing my job.”
“Well, that’s another thing I like about you…you’re so good at what you do, yet you’re modest about it.”
My heart was racing in my chest now as the thought popped in my head. Instead of dwelling on it, I just opened my mouth and started talking. I had a saying I’d been using for years, Don’t stop, don’t hesitate, don’t even think about it. If you hesitate, people die…just do it.
“Dawn, when this case is over—before you go back to Arkansas—would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“Sure,” she said, raising her head to look at me. “I’d like that.”
“Just to be clear, I’m not asking you to any old dinner,” I explained. “I’m asking you out on a date.”
“That’s what I was hoping.”
Right at that moment, I noticed Dawn’s lips for the first time. Sure, I’d seen them before, but it was only then that I took notice of how moist and full they looked. They parted ever so slightly as we sat there staring at each other, our eyes locked onto each other like lasers. Before I knew it, I was slowly leaning toward her and she was leaning toward me. My heart was pounding in my chest so loud I thought she could hear it. Her bottom lip was trembling and her eyes started to slide closed as she drew closer and closer—
A loud horn suddenly exploded behind us and I jerked around to look out of my back glass. A young transport officer I’d never seen before was waving at us from the driver’s seat of the prison van.
“I’m going to kick your ass,” I mumbled under my breath.
CHAPTER 28
I stepped out of my truck and walked to the prison van. “Take the lead,” I told the driver, whose name badge told me he was Kevin Nguyen. “Cade will tell you when we get to the magical tree.”
I returned to my truck and slid into the driver’s seat. Neither Dawn nor I spoke as the prison van passed by us. I filed in behind it. The silence seemed loud. Once we’d left the gravel road and began bouncing around the uneven dirt
path, I stole a glance at her. The corner of her mouth was curled up into a grin.
“That was almost dangerous,” I said, and we both began laughing.
“Do you think he saw us?” she asked. “Do you think that’s why he honked the horn?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find an excuse to punch him in the nose.”
“Not if I get to him first.”
The dirt road was overgrown with tall weeds and it disappeared into the trees about a thousand yards ahead of us. It was certainly a road less traveled. Dead Man’s Canal was off to our right and it flowed east to west, paralleling the road we were on. I wondered if it would’ve been easier to go by boat, but dismissed the idea. It was too late to call someone from water patrol to meet us out there.
Once we reached the thick forest, we were swallowed us by the dark shadows and my automatic headlights came on.
“This place is spooky,” Dawn said, surveying our ghostly surroundings.
Undergrowth was thick in this area of the woods and the going was slow, thanks to the wild roots that snaked across the dirt road. My truck jostled roughly as we moved deeper into the throat of the forest. After what seemed like an hour of being kicked around in the front seat, I saw a wall of light up ahead and we eventually punched out into a large clearing. It was the parking lot of the abandoned lumberyard.
Gravel crunched under my tires as we followed the van across the clearing and parked in front of the large structure. The building was old and the wooden planks weathered, but it still looked sturdy. It was one of those old buildings that had withstood the test of time—and in Louisiana, that test included a whole page of questions on Hurricanes Betsy, Andrew, and Katrina.
I shut off my truck and Dawn and I joined Kevin, Cade, and the other transport deputy—an old veteran C.O. (corrections officer) named Stella—near the prison van. Cade’s legs were shackled and his hands were cuffed to a chain wrapped around his waist.
“How’s he going to dig with all of that jewelry on?” Dawn asked.
Stella jingled a set of keys in the air. “They can come off, especially if it means he’s got to do some manual labor.”