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

by BJ Bourg

  “And?” As soon as I said it, my own mouth dropped open. “If Bill was using her phone it would’ve pinged in that same area!”

  Reginald stood and nodded. “The text messages weren’t coming from the news station…they were coming from the district attorney’s office!”

  CHAPTER 42

  Susan had seemed especially quiet on the drive back to Mechant Loup. Other than laying out the timeline they received from Chloe’s intern, she didn’t say much. I told her everything I remembered about the file and shared Reginald’s suspicions, but she didn’t have much to say in return. She had received a call from Amy earlier saying the interim mayor wanted to meet with all of us at the town hall when we were finished our duties, so we headed that way.

  “Did Amy say who the council picked as the interim mayor?” I asked when we arrived in the parking lot and stepped out of the truck.

  Susan shook her head. “She didn’t even know. One of the council members saw her in the lobby at the town hall and asked her to get the word out to all of us.”

  I nodded my understanding and we marched up the large concrete steps, pushing our way through the double glass doors just as Melvin and Amy strode from the section of the building that had been loaned to us. They both stopped and stared at me, a strange look on their faces.

  I approached them and nodded. “Is everything okay?”

  Melvin walked up and wrapped me in a bear hug. “I was so scared you’d go to jail last night, Chief,” he said, his voice trembling. “We need you here. We can’t do this without you.”

  I slapped his back a couple of times. “I’m still here, Melvin.”

  When he let go, Amy gave me a light fist-bump with her injured hand. “I just started working for you,” she said. “They can’t take you away just yet.”

  We all laughed and walked down the hall together, heading for what used to be Dexter Boudreaux’s office.

  “Any idea who it is?” Melvin asked.

  “Not a clue,” I said, reaching for the knob. When I turned it and opened the door, I nearly choked on my tongue.

  Pauline Cain was sitting behind the desk. She quickly stood to her feet and took a deep breath. “Why, hello, Chief. It looks like we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

  “Mrs. Cain…what the hell?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “The council approached me and asked if I’d serve as the interim mayor until a special election could be organized.” She straightened the front of her suit jacket and nodded. “I agreed to do it and, if this job suits me, I might officially run for the office.”

  I smiled. “Wow, that’s great. I’m proud to serve under you.”

  Susan, Melvin, and Amy echoed a chorus of agreements. When they were done, Pauline said she would allow me to run the police department as I saw fit, the same as Dexter. She then grabbed a box from her desk and tossed it toward me. I caught it in the air and glanced at it.

  “It’s your new phone,” she explained. “I understand you lost your old one in the fire, and I need to be able to keep in touch with you. It’s the same as your old number.”

  I thanked her and took it out of the box, grumbling silently over the thought of reentering contact information for everyone I knew.

  “Now, I have to get to work planning some funerals,” Pauline said. “We have to honor those who have fallen in the last few days. Afterward, I’ll be meeting with the council about rebuilding the police department. Until then, please make yourselves at home here. Our house is your house.”

  We thanked her and talked briefly before walking out into the cool night air. Amy had been out on the streets all day, so she bid us goodnight and headed home.

  “I’m on nights, Chief,” Melvin said. “Anything you need, just holler.”

  “Susan and I will be out of town again tomorrow,” I said. Susan’s brow furrowed and I explained. “We’re going to prison—I want to pay Lance Duggart a visit, see for myself what he has to say.”

  “Good idea,” Susan said.

  “I’ll be here to help Amy if she needs anything,” Melvin said. “I don’t sleep during the day anyway, with my wife and baby home.”

  He started to walk away, but I stopped him. “Hey, did you recover any evidence from the bridge cabin?”

  “Oh yeah, I recovered a dozen shoe prints, but that’s about it.” He frowned. “I think the killer wore gloves, because I didn’t find any fingerprints except my own.”

  “Where’re the shoe prints?”

  “I turned them over to Mallory and she entered them into their evidence.”

  I thanked him and got into the truck with Susan. She hesitated before cranking the engine.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Are you coming back to my place?”

  I stammered, finally muttered, “I mean, is it okay? I haven’t had a chance to fix up my place yet. I can pay you rent, if you like.”

  “No, it’s great,” Susan said quickly. “You can stay as long as you like—or until I run out of food—and I’d never accept a penny from you, so don’t even mention that again.”

  I thanked her and suddenly slapped my forehead, remembering Achilles. “Shit! Achilles is still at Chloe’s dad’s house. He must think I abandoned him.”

  “My back yard is fenced and my house is dog-proof,” Susan offered. “We can pick him up now and bring him with us. I’d love to have him around.”

  “That’d be nice…thanks.”

  When she still didn’t start the truck, I turned to her and demanded she tell me what was on her mind.

  She lowered her eyes and spoke so softly I could barely hear her. “Chloe’s intern mentioned that you and Chloe had broken up, and I wanted you to know how sorry I am for you.”

  I furrowed my brows. “We didn’t break up.”

  Susan looked me right in the eyes. “I was afraid you didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “Ali said Chloe called her and said she was having lunch with her boyfriend. When I told her you were in Tennessee, she said Chloe had broken up with you and she was seeing some new guy.”

  I laughed off Susan’s comment. “No, Chloe and I were still very much together, and she didn’t have some new boyfriend. Ali must’ve misheard her. Hell, between her job and hanging with me, Chloe didn’t have time for anything else.”

  Susan forced a smile. “You’re probably right.”

  I studied her face as she fired up the engine and drove out of the parking lot. She was visibly troubled, and that worried me. I’d never suspected Chloe of being unfaithful, but now a sliver of doubt was starting to wedge its way into my mind.

  CHAPTER 43

  7:15 a.m., Sunday, November 1

  Susan Wilson’s House – Mechant Loup, Louisiana

  The sun was shining through the curtains in Susan’s living room when I awakened. I heard snoring from the corner and wondered if that was what had stirred me from my sleep. I sat up and glanced in the direction of the noise. Achilles was fast asleep, snoring like a human. He had gone crazy with delight when we picked him up, nearly knocking me off my feet. While he had run around the yard showing off, Susan and I had sat on the porch with Chloe’s parents, answering every question they had. They had scheduled her funeral for Monday morning and asked that I serve as a pallbearer. I’d agreed and Susan and I had left shortly afterward. We’d made a brief stop at my house to gather more of my clothes and some toys for Achilles, and then headed for her place.

  I stretched and reached for the arm of the sofa, where I’d thrown my T-shirt last night. As I was pulling it on, I caught movement from the kitchen and looked up to see Susan leaning against the wall, watching me. She wore a long orange cotton shirt that made her tanned figure seem even darker, and she was sipping from a cup of coffee. Her face turned red and she quickly looked away. “Sorry,” she said. “I was trying not to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” I pointed to Achilles. “That air horn of a nose woke me up.”
>
  I joined her in the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee for myself. Achilles’ ears had perked up and he watched me walk by, but then went back to chasing lady dogs in his sleep.

  Susan dropped to a chair at the table, crossing her legs as she sat. “I’ve got muffins in the oven.”

  “You’d better stop doing that,” I said. “You’re going to spoil me.”

  Susan ignored the comment, instead asking how I slept.

  “Like the dead.”

  In a quiet voice, she asked if I’d had any nightmares.

  I smiled. “I haven’t had one since I killed Simon and had that dream about Abigail being an angel.”

  That seemed to please her and her eyes glistened. “I’m really happy for you.”

  We didn’t talk much during breakfast, each lost in our own thoughts. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was mulling over what she’d said about Chloe having a new boyfriend. While I was fairly certain Ali had misunderstood what Chloe told her, that sliver of doubt was growing inside my mind—especially when I remembered what her parents had told me about her runaway—and I was starting to question every incident where she’d come home late or missed one of my calls. I wasn’t prepared to accept it yet, but if she did have a new boyfriend, I needed to know his name and where he was when Chloe got murdered. But how was I supposed to find out now that Chloe was dead?

  After Susan and I ate, we took turns showering and dressing for work. I was just snapping my gun belt in place in front of the bathroom mirror when a strange ring sounded from the living room. I looked toward Susan’s bedroom, where I could see her putting the finishing touch on her braided hair.

  “What’s that noise?” I asked.

  “It must be your new phone,” she called. “I’ve never heard that sound before.”

  I hurried into the living room and dug through my bag, finally locating my phone. It was Mayor Cain.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you, but I wanted you to know I pulled some strings with Rupe’s Dealership—I’m good friends with Julie Rupe, as you know—and had them deliver your new police package Tahoe this morning. They didn’t have time to put the stickers on, but it’s here whenever you’re ready to pick it up.”

  After thanking her, Susan and I headed for the town hall. Melvin was in the office reserved for us and he tossed me a set of keys when I walked in. “This is from the mayor. She said it’s for the black Tahoe in the parking lot.”

  Lindsey was sitting at a desk in the corner of the large room, a portable radio in front of her and a bandage across her exposed shoulder.

  I smiled when I saw her. “I’m glad you came back to work. How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s hurts a little, but I’ll be fine. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be back,” she admitted. “I’ve never been that scared in my whole life.”

  “None of us have,” Amy said. Her wrist was still bandaged, but she was in good spirits. “You took your gunshot like a real hero.”

  Lindsey’s face beamed and she turned toward the radio log, making a note of some traffic that had come across the waves.

  Susan pulled me aside. “Why don’t you go to the prison and interview Duggart alone?” she said. “I’ll stay here and give Amy a hand.”

  I agreed it would be better to have Susan there, given Amy’s injury, and I followed Melvin outside. I asked about his wife and daughter before climbing into my new Tahoe, and he said they were fine.

  “Claire wants me to hang up my badge,” he said slowly. “She doesn’t want to be a widow at such an early age.”

  I couldn’t say that I blamed her, but it was a personal decision and I didn’t want to influence him either way, so I just waved and headed for my new Tahoe. The state prison was two hours away and I wanted to be back before sundown.

  CHAPTER 44

  10:45 a.m.

  LA State Prison – Chetimaches, Louisiana

  Sitting in the small interview room in full police uniform, I felt naked without my gun belt. The prison smelled of rotten feet and disinfectant—an unsettling combination. The building was ancient and dank, like an old dungeon, and I was sure if the walls could talk they would tell tales of unspeakable horror—both in history and in the not so distant past. When all of the world’s evils come together in one place, demons are sure to come out and play.

  I had to wait ten minutes before the steel lock on the large metal door shifted and the door opened, squeaking as it did. Two prison guards stepped through the door, escorting a man in tan coveralls. He was cuffed and shackled and had to shuffle to keep from falling. He moved like a well-trained dog, with the guards only needing to point their commands rather than speak. He’d been here a long time, and that was plain to see.

  Duggart eyed me with suspicion as he took the seat across from me. His eyes were gray and cold, filled with hate. What hair he had left was styled into a flattop and matched the color of his eyes. The lines in his face were deep and angry and he didn’t flinch when the guards slammed the door shut behind him, leaving us alone.

  The chains on his wrists rattled as he lifted his pale arms and dropped them onto the steel table. “What the hell do you want, law man?” His voice was raspy and hard.

  I placed my own arms on the table and leaned closer. “I want to talk to you about your reason for being here.”

  “Unless you’re here to get me out, I got nothing to say to you.”

  I pointed to a tattoo on his arm. It was shaped like a kick pedal for a bass drum. “You play?”

  He smirked. “Stop trying to play cop with me. I know the routine. You pretend to find some common ground and we talk about it. You get me saying yes to a lot of things and then you try to trick me into saying yes to committing a crime. I’m not stupid, copper.”

  It was my turn to smirk. “You seem a bit paranoid for acting so sure of yourself. When I ask if you play the drums, it’s because I’m curious to know if you play the drums…nothing more, nothing less.”

  Duggart squinted, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to it, then,” I said. “Did you rape and murder Jolene Hedd?”

  He leaned forward and said, “No!”

  I grabbed my accordion file folder from the floor and placed it on the table. After removing the synopsis of his statement, I turned it so he could see. “Then why’d you confess to it?”

  “That statement is bullshit! I didn’t confess to nothing.”

  “So, you didn’t say you killed her because she tried to break up with you?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “Then why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

  Duggart grunted. “Why? So you can twist my words like that other cop did? No thank you.”

  “Trust me, we want the same thing.”

  “The last time I trusted a cop I got life in prison without parole.” Duggart stood to his feet and turned toward the door. “This visit is over.”

  “Bill Hedd might be responsible for killing my girlfriend,” I said. “I’d love nothing more than to have him trade places with you.”

  Duggart froze in place. “Is this some kind of trick?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about my girlfriend being murdered.”

  Duggart grunted and returned to his chair. “How’d it happen?”

  I explained how Chloe had been murdered while interviewing Megyn in the bar. “I think she was trying to find evidence to help you,” I said, “and that got her killed.”

  “Wait, what about Megyn?”

  “She was gunned down, too.”

  I thought I saw his eyes water up. He hung his head and was silent for a moment. “Megyn blamed herself for my arrest.” He sighed. “It actually was her fault, but I can’t say I blame her. She only told the truth and that cop twisted everything she said.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s the one who told the detective about me and Jolene. They would’ve never known I was sleeping with Jolene had s
he kept her mouth shut.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” I explained. “Bill found a receipt for a hotel room in the city, so he followed Jolene one night and saw her meet up with you. He got the license plate number off of your black truck and had one of his investigators run it. That’s how he knew who you were. When he was pressed on his whereabouts for the night of the murder, he gave up your information and that’s what led the detective to the bar.”

  Duggart was thoughtful. “So, Bill followed us that night?”

  “What night?”

  “The night Jolene was murdered.”

  “No, it would’ve been a different night. He confronted her after her rendezvous with you and she promised to break up with you.”

  “The detective tried saying the same thing. He wanted me to confess to killing her because I was angry about her breaking up with me.” He shook his head. “She never tried to break it off with me. I didn’t even know Bill caught us. In fact, I never took her to the city, so I don’t know what receipt you’re talking about.”

  I squinted. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I never took her to the city. That receipt had to be for someone else.”

  I hadn’t considered that angle. “So, you think she was seeing someone else? A second person?”

  Duggart shrugged. “It’s not impossible. I mean, she was screwing around on her husband with me, so what would keep her from screwing around on me with someone else? Women like that, they’ve got no loyalties.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. Jolene had been sleeping with Isaiah Wilson, but he died in January—six months before she was murdered. At the time of her murder, she was having an affair with Lance Duggart, but Duggart never took her to the city, so that means she was sleeping with someone else. Did Duggart really kill her? Or was it Bill? Or this mystery man?