But Not Forsaken: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 3)

by BJ Bourg

  I kept my pistol at the ready. My mouth and eyes were wide open, listening and looking for anything that might represent danger. Seth was two steps from his truck and I started to relax. He was going to make it and we would be back in business.

  The area to my distant right lit up in gunfire and bullets zipped toward Seth, riddling his body. I jerked in my skin as Seth’s right leg went limp in mid-stride and folded right under him, dumping him headfirst into the side of his truck. His head slammed against the frame of the truck and bent at an odd angle. He fell hard and remained motionless. I immediately returned fire, aiming toward where I’d last seen the bright flashes. Melvin let out a rebel yell and jumped from the window calling out his friend’s name.

  “Stay inside, Melvin,” I yelled. “It’s too dangerous out here.”

  His boot snagged on the windowsill and he lost his balance, falling to the ground. Ignoring my warning, he gathered himself and ran toward Seth’s lifeless body, shooting his shotgun from the hip as he advanced.

  Having shot my pistol dry, I dropped the empty magazine and reloaded. I then chased after Melvin, yelling for Susan and Amy to cover us. I heard gunshots from the friendly part of the building and I holstered my pistol as Melvin and I reached Seth. After securing Seth’s truck keys in my pocket, I grabbed his legs and Melvin grabbed his arms and we began dragging him to the alcove. Once there, I dropped to my knees and turned him onto his back. He’d been shot at least eight times—six times through the body, once through the neck, and another through the forehead. I frowned and looked up at Melvin, whose face was burning red in the dim light of the setting sun.

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “I’m going to kill those bastards!”

  “Calm down, Melvin,” I cautioned. “We need to keep our wits about us.”

  He glanced around and then stared toward Seth’s truck. “My shotgun…I left it behind!”

  “Wait, we can get another one.”

  Melvin sprang to his feet and made a dash for the shotgun. I pushed off the ground and followed after him, drawing my pistol and screaming for more cover fire. I heard the familiar report of an AR-15 and the boom of a shotgun behind me and I knew Susan and the others had the shooter pinned down. I relaxed a bit. I was down to my last magazine and didn’t want to waste precious rounds shooting at shadows, so I held my fire. Melvin reached his shotgun and snatched it from the ground. Before I could get to him, he charged the shooter’s position to the right.

  “Stop, Melvin!” I started to run after him, but, out of the corner of my eye, I caught flashes of gunfire from the left and bullets kicked up the mud at my feet. I bolted for Seth’s truck and dropped behind the rear wheel well, trying to hide from the glow of the burning building behind me. I popped my head up and tried to see the shooter’s position, but it was gray with dusk and his location was outside the glow of the fire.

  I turned to look in Melvin’s direction, but he had disappeared into the darkness and I couldn’t see him any longer. He had fired a few rounds from his shotgun, but then everything had gone quiet on that end of the property. There had been no return fire or any other sounds from that direction.

  I scanned the back of the police department—or what was left of it. Flames licked at the sky and I could feel intense heat emitting from the area of the sally port. Susan and the others had ceased firing from the back windows and I could see them at the window to the alcove. It looked like they were helping Lindsey out of the window. They were all coughing at this point and smoke was pouring from every window.

  I hesitated, trying to figure out what to do next. Melvin could be in danger or he might even be down and in need of help, but the shooter to my left might be in position to start picking off Susan and the others as they crawled out of the window.

  As though reading my thoughts, a shot sounded from my left and someone screamed in pain behind me.

  CHAPTER 26

  I slipped through the passenger’s side of Seth’s truck and cranked it up while lying across the seats. Working the accelerator with my left hand and steering with my right, I propelled the truck forward, turning it in the direction of the shooter. A few more shots were fired and a bullet smashed through the windshield, but then all went quiet. I pushed the brake pedal, hitting it a little too hard and sending my body rolling onto the floorboard.

  I shoved the gear shift in park and scrambled out of the crack between the seat and the dash. I slid into the driver’s seat just in time to see a large dark figure dart out of sight around the south side of the police department. I started to drive him down, but Susan yelled for me to wait, so I lurched to a stop. She jumped in through the passenger’s door, shoving my shotgun upright in the crack between our seats and cradling the AR in her hands.

  “Let’s go!” She buzzed her window down and leaned out of it, ready to shoot anything that got in our way.

  “Who got hit?” I asked, gunning the engine. The rear tires kicked up mud as they tried to gain traction.

  “Lindsey took one to the shoulder, but it went clean through,” Susan explained. “She’ll be fine.”

  I could feel the heat from the fire as we rounded the corner of the building. I half expected bullets to pepper the windshield, but I saw Melvin running toward us instead. I brought the truck to a stop and lowered my window.

  “They all piled into an old red pickup with a rusted out bed.” Melvin was out of breath and pointing behind him. “Three of them. They’re heading south on Main and they’re heavily armed.”

  “Take one of Seth’s radios,” Susan said. She leaned across me and tossed a radio in Melvin’s direction. He caught it with one hand and she pointed to the knob. “Turn it to channel six.”

  Melvin nodded and ran toward his truck. “I’m right behind y’all!”

  I smashed the accelerator and raced out of the driveway and onto Main Street. Fire trucks were lined up along the highway and the local fire chief flagged me down. He was bunkered out and his eyes were wild. I recognized him from a fire scene we worked a year ago.

  “Clint, we tried to put out the fire, but some man started shooting at us. We had no choice—we had to back out.”

  I nodded my understanding. “It’s clear now, but be careful—there might still be some live ammo inside.”

  The fire chief began barking orders and firemen sprang into action. I drove around the trucks and sped south. Traffic was heavier than usual and I had to use my lights and siren to clear a path along the highway. We were two miles down the road when I saw a car in a ditch to the right. A lady in a dress was leaning against the back of the car rubbing her head. I slowed down and Susan leaned out her window.

  “What happened, ma’am?” Susan asked.

  “Some asshole in a red truck ran me off the road!” She pointed south. “He just kept going that way and didn’t even stop to check on me. He probably doesn’t have insurance.”

  I started to pull off, but the lady stopped me. “Do you think it has something to do with the fire at the police department? We heard there was an explosion. Do you think it was a terror attack?”

  I waved her off and continued south. When the glow of the town was in my rearview mirror, I shut off my siren and strobe lights. The road was completely black, with no traffic in sight. My headlights seemed dim against the backdrop of utter darkness. An uneasy feeling started to form in my belly.

  “What if they’re waiting to ambush us?” Susan asked, apparently sensing the same thing I was feeling. “Right up the road is where they attacked Amy.”

  “Then they’ll be easy to find.” I gripped the steering wheel. “Keep your rifle ready.”

  We drove for about five minutes and were nearing the end of the highway when I saw headlights approaching. Susan pointed. “It’s them!”

  I jerked the steering wheel to the right and parked sideways in the roadway. The truck saw the maneuver and slowed to a stop a couple hundred yards away. Grabbing my shotgun from where Susan had secured it, I slipped out the driver’s doo
r and stood facing the truck. Susan jumped out of the truck and rested the AR-15 across the hood. “Get behind cover,” she said.

  The driver of the truck revved the engine several times. The headlights brightened each time the engine roared. I slowly pulled the shotgun to my shoulder and took aim at the driver’s side of the windshield, my finger resting on the trigger. As I readied myself to kill the men responsible for murdering my family, I couldn’t help but wonder what they had done with Chloe.

  “Clint,” Susan said, “please get behind the truck.”

  I focused like a laser on the front sight of my shotgun and ignored her plea. The engine revved again and tires screeched as the driver let off the brake and allowed his mechanical horses to run. Susan screamed one last time at me and then began firing into the oncoming vehicle. I stood like a statue and waited as the truck drew nearer and nearer. I was blinded by the headlights and couldn’t see inside, but I knew where the driver’s head was supposed to be.

  When the truck was about fifty yards away, I pulled the trigger. The butt of the shotgun punched my shoulder as it bucked like a canon in my hands. Without thought, I pumped another round into the chamber and fired again, but the truck swerved violently to the left, taking the shoulder of the road. Loose rocks shot into the air and the wind from the near-miss brushed my hair back. I whirled around and leaned the shotgun against the bed of the truck to steady it. Taking careful aim at the back glass, I fired off a third round.

  Brake lights lit up briefly, but the truck continued toward town.

  “Let’s go!” I called to Susan. “We need to catch them before they get out of town!”

  As I whipped the truck around, Susan got on the radio and called for Melvin and asked for his location.

  Amy came on the radio. “We’re on Main Street, passing Mechant Groceries—heading your way.”

  I suddenly remembered driving into town from Tennessee and a thought occurred to me. “Tell them to get to the bridge and have the bridge tender raise the lift span.”

  Susan glanced sideways at me. “Why?”

  “Because they’ll have nowhere to go—they’ll be cut off from the rest of the world.” I pursed my lips and nodded. “They’ll be stuck in town like mice in a trap.”

  Susan got on the radio and relayed my orders.

  A second later Melvin’s voice came through the speakers. “Chief, we don’t have a bridge tender. Never have for as long as I’ve been here.”

  “Tell him one was working last night,” I told Susan. “I know because he opened and closed the bridge for a boat.”

  Susan passed the information on to Melvin and the radio went silent for about three minutes. As we sped toward town, I wondered if they would get it up in time. If the Parker brothers made it past the bridge, we might never catch them.

  When the radio scratched to life again, Amy came on to say there were no bridge tenders onboard. “It looks like someone kicked the door open at some point,” Amy said, “but no one’s here.”

  Susan keyed up the radio. “Just do whatever you have to do to get it open. Blow the damn thing up if you have to!”

  We were a mile from town before we finally caught up to the red pickup truck. I had the needle on Seth’s unit buried at 120 miles per hour. The trees on the shoulder of the road blurred by and the wind rocked the unit. Lights flashing and siren blaring, I crept up close to the bumper of the pickup, trying to see into the back windshield. There was a hole on the driver’s side where my slug had passed through, but I couldn’t see blood or flesh around the hole. I cursed silently to myself. The driver must’ve ducked down.

  “You might want to ease up a bit,” Susan warned as she clutched at the dashboard. “If they crash or stop suddenly, we’ll go right up their asses.”

  I slowed a little and turned the bright lights on. “Can you see inside the cab?”

  “No,” Susan said. “Why? Do you not think it’s them?”

  “I want to see if they’re all inside. If not, one of them might be holding Chloe somewhere else.”

  Susan was quiet as we took the first curve into town and raced toward the northern end. She finally put a hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry, Clint.”

  It was all she said and I knew she thought Chloe was dead. I gritted my teeth and thought about ramming their truck.

  “Look!” Susan said, pointing about a mile ahead of the truck. “They got the bridge up!”

  She was right. The lights on the side of the lift span burned bright in the sky and the gates were down. A dim glow burned from the windows of the bridge cabin. I smiled my approval. Melvin and Amy had figured out how to work the bridge. This was it—the Parker brothers were trapped! I eased off the accelerator in anticipation of them stopping.

  “Are you loaded?” I asked Susan.

  “I am, but I’ve only got half a mag left—sixteen at the most.” Susan hoisted the rifle in her hands. “But that’s plenty, right? There’re only three of them.”

  I looked up at the bridge cabin. It was on the northern side of the bridge, but it wasn’t too far. I’d seen Melvin shoot a rifle and I knew how good he was. He and Amy would have a decent vantage point from up there. I told Susan to radio them and tell them to prepare to pin down the Parker brothers if they got out shooting. Susan nodded and made the transmission.

  I suddenly realized the truck was steadily pulling away from us. They weren’t slowing down! It even seemed to pick up speed as it whisked by Cig’s Gas Station and approached the ramp to the bridge.

  “What in hell’s name are they doing?” I asked, stealing a glance at Susan. She stared wide-eyed out the windshield and just shook her head.

  I slowed our vehicle and waited for the splash of red taillights on the pickup. It had to come at any moment, because they were running out of roadway.

  “Clint, I don’t think they’re…” Susan’s voice trailed off as the truck crashed right through the safety gates, sending splintered wood and lights flying skyward. The brake lights never came on as the pickup raced forward and plunged over the edge, disappearing from our view.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Holy shit!” Melvin called over the radio. “Did y’all see that?”

  I drove up the ramp, through the safety gate debris, and stopped a few feet from where we’d last seen the truck. Susan and I both jumped out and ran to the edge of the deck and peered over. Other than the lapping of waves against the bank and a gurgling sound from the throat of the bayou, everything was quiet.

  I heard boot heels clanking against metal and looked across to see Melvin and Amy hurrying down the catwalk from the cabin, two beams of light bobbing up and down as they ran. When they hit the landing to the stairs, they sprinted to the edge of the opposite deck and aimed their lights into the water below.

  “Do y’all see anything?” I hollered, straining to penetrate the darkness below.

  After a brief moment, Melvin yelled back that he couldn’t see anything. It was difficult to understand him because of the distance and him being out of breath.

  “I can’t believe they did that!” Amy called. She was in better shape than Melvin and wasn’t as winded. She aimed her light at where we thought the truck would be, but Bayou Tail had swallowed it up.

  Susan had retrieved a spotlight and she lit up the northern bank, but there was no sign of life. I couldn’t see the southern bank because it was somewhere under us, so I asked Amy and Melvin if they could see anything. They couldn’t.

  “Susan, come with me.” I turned and ran toward Seth’s unit, calling over my shoulder, “Keep those lights on the water. If anything moves, shoot it!”

  Susan and I backed off the bridge in the truck and proceeded to Grace Street. After driving a couple of blocks, we turned north on a cross street and then left on Bayou Tail Lane. I hugged the grassy shoulder, heading toward the underside of the bridge, and Susan used the spotlight to scan the banks of the bayou.

  I stopped directly under the bridge and angled the truck so the headlights li
t up the water. We jumped out and I drew my pistol as I rounded the front of the vehicle. Susan had the spotlight in one hand and she was cradling the AR-15 in the crook of her other arm.

  We moved out of the glow from the headlights and scanned the surface of Bayou Tail.

  “I don’t see a thing,” Susan whispered from beside me. “It’s like nothing happened down here.”

  She was right. The water had grown still—deathly still. Had the Parker brothers perished in the crash? A sinking feeling fell over me. If they were gone, I might never find out what they did to Chloe. The bayou was at least two hundred feet wide and the water depth under the bridge was over twenty-five feet. That was far beyond most people’s swimming capabilities—even if the water were clear. Here, the water was black and foreboding. Even if they did escape from the truck, they wouldn’t know which way was up or down. We’d definitely need a boat and some experienced divers to search for their bodies.

  I kicked at the ground. Before Chloe had disappeared, I’d prepared myself for a confrontation with the Parkers. I’d thought carefully about what I would do when I came face to face with them. Had planned what I would say. Those plans had changed when Chloe went missing. I needed them to tell me where she was and what had happened to her, which would require some smooth talking. But that was before they attacked my office.

  Susan pulled out her phone and checked the time. “It’s been about seven minutes since they disappeared,” she said. “I think they’re gone.”

  I sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I needed them to tell me where to find Chloe.”

  “What if they had nothing to do with her disappearance?”