by BJ Bourg
“I do. I think he brainwashed a lot of good people into thinking he was the second coming of Jesus, or God on earth.” She nodded, seemingly sure of herself. “This guy’s definitely different. He seems sincere and humble.”
I drove in silence for a few minutes and then asked Dawn if she was hungry. It was too early to head to the bar, so I figured we’d grab a bite to eat. She agreed and I took her to my favorite Chinese restaurant in Mathport, where we ate until we could hardly breathe. The sun was going down when we left the restaurant. I drove to the intersection of Highway Three and Route Twenty-Three, where I headed east toward Jasper.
Once the bustle of the small town was in my rearview mirror and we were traveling along the more secluded highway, I asked Dawn about her plans to visit her mom.
“I spoke to personnel and they said I’ve got a little more than six months of accumulated leave,” she explained. “I asked the sheriff if he’d allow me to take a leave of absence to be with my mom in her last few months, and he said absolutely.”
I felt a twinge of disappointment when she mentioned being gone for a few months, but I knew I was feeling selfish and I didn’t let it show. “He’s always been very accommodating,” I said, “even when he was captain of detectives. It’s nice of him to let you do that.”
Dawn reached across the console and placed her hand on my forearm. “I’m going to miss being away from you for that long.”
I turned toward her and our eyes locked. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
“Do you think you could come visit me?”
“In Arkansas?”
“Yeah, is that a problem?”
I tried not to sound too eager, but it was difficult. “I’d love to come visit you, but I don’t want to interfere with anything.”
“You wouldn’t be interfering.” Dawn lowered her eyes. “I’d love it if my mom could meet you before she dies.”
I didn’t know what to say, but I know I felt a deep sense of honor right at that moment. “And I’d love to meet her.”
She smiled, but didn’t let go of my arm. “Good, then it’s settled.”
We made small talk on the remainder of the drive and, before we knew it, the Twisted Long Neck was in sight.
Oyster shells crunched under the tires of my truck when I pulled into the parking lot and parked several spots away from the front door. The place wasn’t nearly as crowded as when we’d been there last week, and I said as much to Dawn.
“Maybe we scared them off.” She jumped from my truck and I followed her to the front door. We closed our eyes for a few seconds to help them adjust quicker to the darkness we were about to enter, and then stepped inside. We moved to the side of the doorway and stood there for a bit, studying the crowd. No one seemed to pay us any mind, so we made our way to the bar. I recognized one of the bartenders from when we interviewed them last week, and I called her over. She was young and had a thin figure, but her eyes were old and tired. The name Beverly was embroidered above the chest pocket on the left side of her shirt.
“What can I get you?” she asked when she was close enough to hear me.
I leaned away from the bar and pointed down to my badge. “I need to speak to Shelton.”
“That makes two of us,” she said. “I need him to bring in some more liquor, but I can’t get in touch with him. He hasn’t been in all day and he hasn’t called.”
“When was the last time you heard from him?” I asked.
“Last night about midnight. He left earlier in the night—like he always does—and texted me later to ask me to lock up the place.”
“Is that unusual?”
“No,” she said. “What’s unusual is that he wasn’t here when I arrived this afternoon. He often disappears at night when he wants to run around with some new girl he just met, but he’s here every single day to open up.”
“What time does he usually get here to open up?”
“Three o’clock.”
“Have you heard from him after midnight?”
Beverly shook her head. “It’s like he just vanished.”
I turned to look at Dawn and she nodded. “He knows we’re onto him,” she said in a low voice. “He’s making a run for it.”
I leaned forward toward Beverly. “Where does he live? When I run his address, it keeps coming up as this place.”
She shot a thumb above her head. “He lives in the apartment upstairs, but he’s not there. I already checked.”
“What about his car?”
“It’s gone.”
I drummed my fingers on the bar, thinking. Finally, I asked if there were any other places he might go. “Does he have a girlfriend or family?”
“No family, but lots of girlfriends.” She smirked. “I used to be one of them.”
“Is there any other place he might go to lay low or chill out?” I asked. “You know…if he wanted to get away from it all for a day or two.”
She was thoughtful, and then nodded. “He does have a camp in the woods that he uses during hunting season. It’s about twenty minutes east of here, right before you get to the parish line. When you see a big sign advertising the bar, take a right on that shell road and go back for about three miles. It’s the only camp back there, so you can’t miss it.”
When we were back in my truck, Dawn pulled out the yearbook and turned to the football picture of Wilton with one of his arms around Shelton. She took a picture with her phone and returned the yearbook to the envelope. “I bet you Shelton lied about knowing Wilton because he’s the killer, and now he’s on the run.”
“Could be, but that still doesn’t explain Wilton’s pants being open—and I think it’s supposed to mean something.”
“Cade said three of them killed the old man and we know for a fact the old man’s fly was left open. Shelton could’ve staged Wilton’s clothes as a warning to the third accomplice to keep his mouth shut.”
“I like it,” I said, turning right by the advertising sign and allowing my truck to be swallowed up by the thick trees that smothered the shell road. After a quarter of a mile, we came to a sign warning that trespassers would be shot. I heard Dawn drag her pistol from its holster. She wasn’t taking any chances.
CHAPTER 43
I shut off the headlights when we were about twenty yards from the camp. The structure was situated on pilings and stood high above the ground overlooking the forest to the north and the marsh to the south. The entire front of the camp was lined with windows and every light in the building must’ve been on, because it was lit up like daytime.
Dawn pointed ahead. “That’s Shelton’s Camaro.”
She was right. There was a large concrete area under the camp that doubled as a carport and parking area. The Camaro was parked near the landing at the bottom of a long stairway that led to the floor level of the camp.
When I drove as close as I dared to the building, I shut off the engine and we slipped out of the truck, careful not to slam the doors. We stood at the front of my truck—guns in hand—for a long moment, waiting and listening. Other than crickets chirping, cicadas screaming, and the occasional grunt from nearby alligators, all was quiet.
Keeping to the dark shadows of the trees, we crept along the shoulder of the shell street until we reached the clearing that surrounded the camp. The entire area was lit up from the above lighting and I didn’t like it one bit. If we tried to cross the opening, we could easily be detected from any of the windows at the front of the building.
I squatted at the edge of the tree line and scanned the area on the opposite side of the camp. I couldn’t be sure, but the back area looked darker than the front, so I pointed to our left. “I think we should make our way around the clearing to the back, where it’s darker. We’ll have a better chance of approaching the camp without being seen.”
“I’m with you,” Dawn whispered, stepping back to let me go first.
I took the lead and stuck to the grass as much as I could, slowly circling Shelton’s camp. The gr
ound wasn’t always solid and my foot sank a few times in the soft mud, allowing cool water to seep into my boots and saturate my socks. Once we reached the back yard, I dropped to my knees and studied the space between us and the carport carefully.
“It’s definitely darker back here,” Dawn said. Her lips were incredibly close to my ear.
I nodded and pointed to a long power pole that cast a shadow the stretched from the trees to the side of the structure. “We’ll follow that shadow to the carport. Ready?”
She nodded and I slowly stepped out into the open, trying to make myself as small as the shadow was wide. Taking slow, deliberate steps, I led the way across the clearing. Sweat dripped down my face and mosquitoes buzzed around my head, but I ignored them. All of my senses were focused on the surrounding area, ready for anything that might pop out and pose a threat to us.
I could almost feel Dawn in my back pocket. Her breathing was steady and calm. I knew she was as ready as I was for whatever we might find. For all we knew, Shelton might’ve killed Wilton and could be ready to shoot it out to make his escape—or he might be simply passed out drunk in his bed. Whatever the case, we had to be ready for the worst.
Once we were safely wrapped in the darkness of the carport area, I led the way to the Camaro and felt the hood. It was cold. “It hasn’t been driven in a while,” I told Dawn.
She nodded and pointed to the landing of the stairway. “It’s the only way up.”
“Well, then, let’s do it…”
The stairway was constructed of creosote planks that appeared rough and weathered. While it seemed like a steady structure, the first step creaked when I put my weight on it. I cursed silently and waited for any indication that someone might’ve heard. When I was sure we hadn’t been detected, I continued up the stairs, moving slower than before and shifting my weight gingerly from one foot to the other. Dawn followed closely behind me.
Minutes later, we made it to the top of the stairs and stood on a wide, wraparound deck. Using hand signals, I guided Dawn to move left while I moved right, both of us careful not to make a sound as we crept toward the windows. Before I reached the first window on my side, I was able to tell I was approaching the living room. Even at the sharp angle, I could see mounted game hanging on the walls and parts of a large sofa set in plain view.
As I inched closer, I could make out the corner of a plush, white rug that took up most of the center of the living room. Except for a blind spot created by the large sofa and the front of a giant, two-seater recliner, I could see that the living room was empty. In addition to the living room, I could also see the kitchen and dining area, and they looked empty, too.
Crouching low in order to stay under the window pane, I made my way to the opposite side of the windows and tried to visually attack the room from a different angle. As I was scanning the interior space, I heard a boot rub lightly against the deck behind me and I turned to see Dawn rounding the corner.
“Every window is exposed,” she whispered, “and I don’t see him anywhere.”
I indicated toward the recliner and sofa with my head. “Those are the only spots I can’t clear from here. We’ll have to go inside.”
Dawn stood on her tiptoes and stretched her neck. “If only we had a ladder or something.”
Thinking quickly, I holstered my pistol and got down on my hands and knees. “Stand on my back.”
Dawn hesitated, but I waved her on.
Resting her foot gently on my back, she slowly lifted herself up until all of her weight was on me. I felt her rise to her tiptoes and then she cursed out loud.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to turn to look.
She scrambled down from my back and grabbed my arm, nearly dragging me toward the door. “Come on, there’s a body inside!”
CHAPTER 44
Dawn and I approached the door and stood to either side as I reached for the knob. It was unlocked. I looked at her. “On three…one, two, three!”
I shoved the door open and we both rushed inside. I wrapped around the doorjamb to the right and she crisscrossed to the left, scanning the room with our pistols as we entered. We cleared the living room and dining area first. Next, we made our way briskly throughout the camp, searching for suspects or other victims. It was empty.
“Clear!” Dawn called from her side of the camp.
“Clear,” I called back, holstering my pistol and strolling toward the living room, where I stopped to stare down at Shelton Thomas. He was sprawled out on his back in the center of the recliner, his eyes and mouth open and his head cocked to the side. He no longer looked like a proud and vicious Timber Wolf full of vigor, but, rather, a poor helpless lamb who had been led blindly to the slaughter.
Shelton’s arms were resting at his side and his shirt was unbuttoned and opened wide. I shook my head when I saw that his fly was undone and his genitals were exposed like Wilton’s. “This is no coincidence,” I said.
Dawn nodded, then leaned close to his head and whipped out her flashlight. Without touching his body, she shined the light down his ear canal and then whistled. “There’s a cotton swab in here. Same position of the body, same method of execution…someone’s definitely sending a message.”
“But to whom?”
“That’s what we’re going to figure out.” She held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll move your truck closer and get my crime box so we can start processing this scene.”
I handed her the keys and pulled out my radio. After I’d called it in and requested a deputy to block off the driveway, I fished my cell phone from my pocket and called Katina Michot. She answered right away, but sounded tired.
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I need to know if the name Shelton Thomas means anything to you.”
She was silent for a brief moment, but then she said she never heard of that person. “Am I supposed to recognize it?”
“It seems he graduated with Wilton. They played ball together in high school.”
“Wilton never mentioned him, but that’s not unusual. He never told me shit about anything.” Her voice was as bitter as it had been when we first met with her. “Is that one of his other boyfriends?”
I apologized for bothering her and disconnected the call. I leaned close to Shelton and sniffed, detecting a hint of decaying flesh. I knew it would be stronger when we moved his body. It was warm in the camp and the heat was accelerating the decomposition process.
I heard the door behind me open and turned to see Dawn enter with her crime scene box. She tossed me the keys and I caught them in one quick motion. “Shelton’s starting to ripen,” I said. “He’s definitely been dead all day.”
Dawn nodded and went to work photographing the body while she took detailed notes. In the meantime, I fired up her laptop and typed out an affidavit for an electronic search warrant. Once it was done, I submitted it to the duty judge and waited for a reply so we could start searching areas of the house that were not in plain view.
I’d been waiting for about ten minutes when I heard a car drive up outside. Bright blue lights flashed through the windows and I knew it was a patrol cruiser. I strode down the staircase and found Lieutenant Jim Marshall struggling with his seatbelt. He’d always been a little on the heavy side, but he was even bigger than the last time I’d seen him. He had to grab onto the top of his car to help himself out. Once he was free of the squad car, he lifted his sagging gun belt and nodded at me. “My guys are busy, so I figured I’d come out here myself.”
I stuck out my hand and thanked him for getting there so soon. “I thought I heard you were retiring. Weren’t you supposed to go to the house last year?”
“I was going to, but the wife beat me to it,” he said. “She spent her first week of retirement making a honey-do list a mile long. Shit, if I go now she’ll have me working harder than I do here, so I decided to just keep grinding it out until I die. At least I’ll be well rested when I make it to the Pearly Gates. Besides, she appreciates me more when I
’m not around so much.”
I laughed and helped him string crime scene tape across the street that led to Shelton’s camp. We weren’t expecting company, but word travels fast in Magnolia and we didn’t want any surprises. While we worked, I asked about the rescue effort from the tornado.
“Thirty-two confirmed dead and millions of dollars in damage.” He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t know how much longer I can be out here. I’m might request a transfer to the jail…finish out my years in peace. I’m sick of seeing dead bodies and grieving families.”
“It’s certainly not for everyone.” Once Marshall and I were done, I started to return upstairs when more flashing lights appeared through the trees down the long street. After several seconds of waiting, an ambulance finally came into view. I watched as the medics jumped out and grabbed their gear, and then led them upstairs. It didn’t take them long to confirm Shelton was dead, and they were gone as quickly as they’d arrived.
Dawn pointed toward the laptop. “The judge signed the electronic warrant, so we’re good to go.”
I pulled on some gloves and went to work. First, I helped her finish processing the scene and then we tore the place apart—searching for even the most remote piece of evidence.
“There’s nothing here,” Dawn said. “The place is clean. It’s like the killer floated in, stabbed him in the ear, and then floated away.”
“Yeah, it’s too clean. Maybe we’ll get some DNA on the sex crimes kit.” I handed her Shelton’s phone to bag as evidence. “I checked everything on here, but there’s nothing glaring. His last text message was to someone named Beverly and it was sent at midnight. He told her to lock up the bar at two and that he would see her today.”
“Beverly’s that bartender we spoke to.”
I nodded. “This confirms what she said.”
Dawn went to chewing on her bottom lip again. After a while, she began packing up her crime scene gear. It wasn’t until she’d finished that she spoke again. “We need to find the third guy Cade was talking about…and we need to find him before the killer does.”