by BJ Bourg
“But you didn’t have to kill him! You could’ve taken him in and he would’ve been tried and convicted for murdering your family, Chloe, Mr. Dexter, Seth and—”
“He doesn’t need a lecture, Doug,” Mallory interjected. “The DA’s office gets the final call and they’ve made their decision. You don’t have to like it, but you damn sure will abide by it.”
Doug stood and stormed out of the interview room, slamming the door behind him. When he was gone, Mallory apologized for him. “He doesn’t have kids, so he doesn’t get it.”
I waved it off. “I understand where he’s coming from and he’s right—I’m no longer fit to be chief of police. Once this investigation is concluded and things are back to normal in Mechant Loup, I’m going to resign.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Reginald leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Isabel and some of our brightest assistants have been researching this for hours, and they all agree the law can’t touch you. You were lawfully inside your home, he made an unlawful and forcible entry into your home, and you knew he made that unlawful and forcible entry. That there, my friend, is presumptive evidence that the deadly force was necessary to compel the intruder to leave. You’re free and clear.”
“The thing is,” I began in a quiet voice. “I didn’t care about the law—I was going to kill him wherever I found him. The fact that he was in my house was just dumb luck. I had murder in my heart and that disqualifies me from serving as chief of police.”
Mallory and Reginald sat in silence for a few moments. When Mallory spoke, her voice was firm. “I would’ve done the same thing had that bastard killed my daughter.”
Reginald nodded in agreement. “And the fact remains he broke into your house, where it was legal to take him out. Since you didn’t find him anywhere else, what you would have done is not relevant and no one will ever know—or care—what you were thinking.”
“Well, I know, and I won’t lie to myself or the people I serve.”
Reginald dropped his feet to the ground and stood. “Well, suit yourself, but you’re a free man. If I have my way, you’ll get an award for killing the piece of shit who murdered Seth. He was my friend.”
Mallory stood with Reginald and opened the door. “Susan’s waiting for you in the lobby.”
I followed them down the long hallway and into the lobby, where Susan was pacing the floor. She spun around when we opened the door and rushed toward me, throwing her arms around me and squeezing. Her mouth was pushed up against my neck and it muffled her voice, but I understood perfectly when she told me how relieved she was to see me. After thanking Reginald and Mallory, we walked out into the cool night air and she announced I was staying at her place.
“Your house is shot to shit,” she said. “So, you can stay with me until everything is back in order.”
I didn’t argue. As she drove, I told her my plans to resign and my reasons for doing so. She didn’t say a word until we were in her driveway and she had shut off the engine. She twisted in her seat to face me. “You know how we all tried to talk you out of shooting Simon?”
I nodded.
“We didn’t do it to stop you from killing him.” She paused and shook her head for emphasis. “No, the reason we tried to talk you out of killing him was because we didn’t want you going to prison. We didn’t want you throwing your life away for that piece of shit.”
“Cops can’t go around doing things like that, so I have to resign.”
“But Reggie said it was justifiable homicide—you did nothing wrong.”
“The fact that the statute is ambiguous doesn’t give me the right to exploit a loophole.” I smiled to reassure her. “Please understand that, as a father and a husband, I’m proud of what I did and I’ll sleep good knowing I removed that evil bastard from this earth. I just can’t be a cop anymore.”
Susan sat there shaking her head. “What am I supposed to do with you gone?”
“You’ll be the next chief of police,” I said. “And you’ll make a damn good one.”
She grunted and led me into her house. I’d been there before, so I knew the lay of the place. “You can have my bedroom,” she said. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
“No indeed!” I insisted on taking the couch and we argued about it for a minute. She finally relented and disappeared in her room to retrieve a pillow and some blankets. When she reappeared, she also had a clean shirt and some shorts. “These are too big for me,” she explained. “And don’t worry—they’re unisex fighting gear.”
I thanked her and walked toward the bathroom. I stopped in the doorway and looked back to where she stood in the kitchen. “How’d you know to come to my place earlier?” I asked. “I didn’t even hear them break into my house, so how’d you know to go there?”
“One of your neighbors tried calling our office to report hearing gunfire in the neighborhood. The line was dead, so she called the sheriff’s office and asked if they knew how to get in touch with you. Mallory heard it over the radio and called me immediately.”
“How many times have you saved my ass now?” I asked.
“I’m not counting, and neither should you.” She frowned and the dimple over her lip deepened. “It’s what we do for each other, and I’m hoping we get to keep doing it for many years to come.”
CHAPTER 36
“Look at me, Daddy!”
I smiled as Abigail skipped across the rich meadow in her white dress, stopping often to pick up flowers and tuck them into a basket that hung from the crook of her elbow. “Mommy will love these flowers!”
I turned to my left and saw Michele standing under a bright light. Her smile was as beautiful as I remembered. “Look at her, Clint. Look at our beautiful daughter.”
“Michele, it’s you,” I said softly.
“Of course it is. Who else would it be?”
I hesitated, not knowing what to say next. I finally managed to ask if she was happy.
Her smile was all the confirmation I needed, but she said, “As happy as I’ve ever been.”
Abigail was running back toward me. I squatted to take her in my arms, but she stopped just out of reach and turned her back toward me. “Do you like my wings, Daddy? I’m an angel now! Want to see me fly?”
——
I heard the sizzling of bacon before I smelled it. Disoriented, I slowly opened my eyes and sat up. My vision was blurry at first, but Susan’s figure slowly came into view. She was bustling about the kitchen wearing nothing but a long shirt. The muscles in her tanned legs rippled, but her feet barely made a sound as she padded back and forth from the counter to the stove.
I rubbed my messy hair and wondered how long I’d slept. The last thing I remembered doing was lying wide-eyed in the dark, staring blindly at the ceiling. My last thought was whether or not Susan had a bottle of vodka stashed somewhere in her cabinets. I must’ve fallen asleep immediately thereafter, because here I was, awake and not knowing what the hell happened.
“What time is it?” I asked, suddenly realizing I hadn’t had a nightmare.
“Good, you’re up.” Susan turned from the stove, holding a spatula in one hand and tongs in the other. “I could use some help before I burn my house down.”
I hurried to the kitchen and took the tongs from her, taking care of the bacon while she dealt with the grits and eggs. She indicated with her head toward the microwave clock. “It’s a little past noon.”
“Wow,” I said, grinning large.
Susan stopped what she was doing to study my face. “I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. What’s going on?”
“I slept for like six hours.”
“Congratulations. You’re an average American. But I still don’t get why you’re so giddy.”
“I just feel different.” I lowered the fire on the bacon and explained how I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept without having a drink—or a nightmare. “And I had this weird dream that I saw Michele and Abigail, and
they were happy. Abigail even showed me her back. She had the most beautiful wings attached to it. She said she was an angel.”
I looked from the bacon to Susan. Her eyes were misty and she was smiling. “I’m not religious, or anything,” she began. “But I think that’s their way of telling you it’s okay now—that you did the right thing last night. You brought closure to their case and enabled them to move on in the afterlife.”
I nodded my head, not knowing if she was right or not, but feeling better than I had in years. If she was right and the dream was a sign, what was I supposed to do next? Where does my life go from here?
Without saying more about it, Susan and I finished cooking brunch and sat at the table to eat. I didn’t know if her cooking was that good or if I was that hungry, but it was the best eggs, bacon, and grits I’d ever eaten. We were almost done eating when Susan’s phone rang. She answered with a smile, but her smile slowly faded as she listened.
“Okay, we’ll be right there.” She disconnected the call and placed her phone down on the table. “We have to go to the sheriff’s office right away.”
“Is there a problem?”
I already knew the answer, because her brown eyes looked troubled and she was chewing on her lower lip. She nodded slowly. “It seems the Parker brothers didn’t kill Chloe.”
I dropped my fork. “What? Are they sure?”
“Mallory was pretty positive. She said she’s got something she wants you to hear.”
I sat there stunned. “If Simon and his brothers didn’t kill Chloe, who was it?”
Susan shook her head. “She didn’t say. She just wants us to get there as fast as we can.”
CHAPTER 37
Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office
Mallory met Susan and me in the lobby at the sheriff’s department and ushered us into an office at the end of a long hallway. Her name and rank were displayed in gold letters above the doorframe. Once we were inside, she sat at the desk and fired up her computer.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why’d you say the Parker brothers didn’t kill Chloe? What proof do you have?”
Mallory reached into a leather bag and pulled out an evidence envelope. After donning a pair of latex gloves, she removed a small black device from inside and placed it on the desk in front of her. “Do you know what this is?”
I nodded. “It’s an undercover recording device.”
“It’s the same kind we use in some of our undercover sting operations.” She reached back into the leather bag and pulled out a wire. She connected the wire to the device and then plugged it into one of the USB ports on her computer. “We found this bug in Chloe’s bra.”
“In her bra?” I asked. “I’ve never seen her with that thing before. What was it doing in her bra?”
“She was recording a conversation between herself and Megyn Sanders,” Mallory explained.
“Megyn Sanders…wait a minute!” I was thoughtful. “Why would Chloe be talking to the manager from the Bayou View Pub?”
Susan shrugged and glanced at Mallory. “Do you think it has something to do with Megyn’s murder?”
“I didn’t listen to all of it,” Mallory acknowledged. “When I realized what it was and that it might relate in some way to your case, I figured y’all needed to hear it.” She frowned and stared into my eyes. “And I felt you should hear it first, since she was your girlfriend. In fact, if you want, we can step out and let you listen to it alone.”
“That’s not necessary.” I said it like I was sure, but my heart started to pound in my chest as I realized I might be hearing the very last recording of Chloe’s voice.
Mallory turned toward the computer and began working the mouse. “Now, I did hear enough to know they were talking about the Lance Duggart case.”
Susan began chewing on her lower lip. “Isn’t he the guy who killed Bill Hedd’s wife?”
“Yep,” Mallory said.
My mind began to race. Chloe’s intern had been going through old newspaper film from twenty years ago to see if she could dig up some dirt on Bill that might explain his animosity toward Susan’s dad. Last I heard, the intern hadn’t found anything significant, but what if she’d stumbled upon something?
I voiced my concern and asked Mallory how she knew the recording pertained to that case.
“One of her first questions had to do with Lance Duggart.” Mallory clicked the mouse and leaned back in her chair. “Here it is…”
I crossed my arms as the recording began to play. I heard a door slam and shoes echo against a wooden floor. Finally, Chloe’s voice came through the speakers.
——
Chloe: Mrs. Sanders? Mrs. Megyn Sanders?
Megyn: Yeah, that’s me.
Chloe: Hi, I’m with the paper. [Pause] It’s pretty quiet in here today. [Pause] So, I wanted to ask some questions about your former boss, Lance Duggart.
Megyn: Lance? What for? He’s been in prison for about twenty years. I haven’t seen him since he got arrested and I don’t visit him in prison.
Chloe: I wanted to ask you about the day he got arrested. [Paper rustling] I’ve obtained a copy of this police report from back then. You’re listed as a witness in the murder case. Do you remember giving a statement?
Megyn: Some detective came talk to me. Yeah, I remember that.
Chloe: The evidence custodian couldn’t find the cassette tape containing your statement. [Paper rustling] I also obtained this witness list from the trial, but your name isn’t on it. Were you called to testify at the trial?
Megyn: The detective had come by the bar a few weeks before the trial and asked if I’d been subpoenaed by the defense, but I told him no. He said I didn’t have to talk to them if they came around. He told me they had all the evidence they needed and Lance had confessed after they matched his DNA to the lady, so I wasn’t needed in trial. To be honest, I was relieved, because I was scared to death about going to court. The detective said I helped him break the case, because I confirmed the connection between Lance and the lady. I felt bad about that, you know? Lance was my boss and my friend. I mean, I was honest with the detective, but I certainly didn’t want to testify in court. I didn’t want to help them send him to prison.
Chloe: Do you remember what you told the detective?
Megyn: I remember it like it was yesterday. You don’t forget things like that, you know what I mean?
Chloe: Absolutely. So, what’d you tell him?
Megyn: Well, first he came in with a picture of the lady who had gotten raped and murdered. Asked me if I ever saw her in the bar before.
Chloe: Did you?
Megyn: A few times. She’d come in and go to the corner of the bar—right over there—and wait. When Lance would finish doing whatever he was doing at the time, he’d go talk to her and then the lady would leave. It never failed, Lance would come over to me and make up some excuse about why he had to leave, and then he would disappear for an hour, or so. In fact, I even saw her on the night she was murdered.
Chloe: She came here the night she died?
Megyn: Oh, yeah, I told that to the detective. He got real interested when I told him about their relationship. I didn’t know why, but then I saw on the news that she was the district attorney’s wife. I swear, I had no clue she was married. If I would’ve known, I would’ve told Lance to stay away from her.
Chloe: Wait a minute…are you saying Lance was having an affair with the DA’s wife?
Megyn: Oh, yeah, they were carrying on like high school kids sneaking around on the parents.
Chloe: And you told this to the detective?
Megyn: Yes, ma’am.
[Long pause]
Chloe: Did you tell the detective anything else?
Megyn: Well, I did tell him Lance came back to the bar that night after meeting the woman. He asked a bunch of questions about how he looked, what he was wearing, and stuff like that.
Chloe: What did you say to that?
Megyn: Lance looked normal.
He was clean, you know? No blood or anything. The detective said he probably cleaned up and changed his clothes. I told him I didn’t think Lance was capable of murder or rape. I told him they must have had volunteer sex and there was an accident or something, but he laughed at me. Can you believe that? He just stood there laughing at me.
Chloe: [Short pause] Did Lance say anything to you when he came back to the bar that night?
Megyn: [Short pause] He mentioned something about being tired. When I asked him what he meant, he said he was tired of being used. That’s it—that’s all he said.
Chloe: What time did you say Lance got back from seeing his girlfriend that night?
Megyn: I didn’t say, but it was a quarter after ten.
[Paper rustling]
Chloe: How sure are you?
Megyn: I’m positive. I looked at the clock when he came in. It was actually ten-fourteen, to be exact. I remember it, because I told it to the detective and he told me I had to be wrong. We went back and forth about it and I told him I was positive, but he insisted it couldn’t be possible.
Chloe: Did Lance leave again that night?
Megyn: Yeah, he left when we closed up at two.
Chloe: He was arrested about a week after the crime, right?
Megyn: Something like that.
Chloe: Did he act any different during that week?
Megyn: Oh, yeah. He wasn’t himself. He would come in late and leave early—on the days he actually showed up. I think he missed three days during that week, which is unusual for him.
Chloe: What if I told you the woman was alive at eleven o’clock that night, which means there’s no way Lance killed that woman?