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

by BJ Bourg

  “Shut your self-righteous mouth.” Susan propped her elbows on the table and stared coldly into Doug’s eyes. “Do you read the Bible?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Ever read the passage about those who were without sin casting the first stone?”

  “So? What’s your point?”

  “Clint killed a murderer, but you…” Susan shook her head. “What you did is a hideous crime.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the murder of an innocent woman—your uncle’s wife.”

  Doug’s mouth dropped open. “I had nothing to do with her murder. That’s ludicrous!”

  “That’s not how I see it.” Susan tapped the picture of the knife. “We know for a fact this knife was planted in Duggart’s garage. The only question—”

  “Bullshit! How do you know that?”

  Susan looked around the room and then back at Doug. “What do you think we’ve been doing over the last few days? Screwing off? We’ve been working the hell out of this case and we’re fixing to break it wide open.” Susan shoved her finger toward Doug. “You’re a hypocrite if you think Clint should go to jail and you should go free for the crimes you’ve committed.”

  Doug pounded the desk and kicked his chair back, jumping to his feet. “I didn’t commit any crimes and I won’t stand to be falsely accused!”

  Susan didn’t even flinch. She calmly stood and met his gaze with her own. “You and I both know you didn’t just stumble upon the murder weapon on your own. You were tipped off.” Susan’s eyes narrowed slightly when she saw Doug gulp. “Who was it? Did Bill tell you where to find it?”

  Doug’s eyes darted wildly about the room, as though looking for a place to hide.

  “Come on, Doug.” Susan’s voice was soothing now. “It’s over—time for you to be a man.”

  He stood tense, staring at Susan for a long moment.

  “It’s time to do the right thing,” Susan said. “If Lance Duggart is innocent, you’d better hope he doesn’t die in jail. That would be the same as murder and you would be worse than Clint.”

  Doug exhaled and dropped to his chair, his shoulders drooping. “Damn it, Susan, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just followed up on a tip.”

  “What tip?”

  “I was on my way to Duggart’s house to help out with the search warrant when someone paged me.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead and continued. “It was a number I didn’t recognize. I stopped at a pay phone and called the number. The person who answered told me Duggart was the killer and—”

  “Was it a man or woman?”

  A scowl spread across Doug’s face. “I couldn’t tell. Whoever it was definitely disguised their voice and it confused me. I got the impression it was a woman trying to sound masculine, but I’ve never been sure.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “They told me Duggart confided in them and told them he hid the knife in a rusty toolbox. They described it as the red toolbox with the gray lettering.” He shrugged. “There was only one fitting that description, so it was easy to find.”

  Susan stared at her notes for a minute and wondered why he would keep something like that a secret. She finally posed the question to him and he hung his head.

  “I know it sounds stupid, but when I found the knife, everyone started congratulating me and telling me I should’ve never been removed as the lead detective. The sheriff was at the scene and he pulled me aside to tell me he was proud of me. He told me I was like a bloodhound on a crime scene and he expected great things in my future.” Doug sighed. “I didn’t say anything when I first got the page because I knew Reginald would take my information and search the garage himself. Besides, I wasn’t even sure it was good information. It could’ve been a prank.”

  “Why didn’t you tell everyone after you found it? When you realized it wasn’t a prank?”

  “By the time I found the knife it was too late,” Doug said. “I would’ve had to explain why I didn’t immediately tell the lead detective, and I’d already taken enough shit over the case.”

  “Weren’t you even a little curious to know who it was?”

  Doug nodded his head vigorously. “I ran the telephone number and it came back to a payphone a mile from Duggart’s house. I began to suspect it was Megyn Sanders and I was terrified she’d come forward someday to expose me. I kind of relaxed after the trial, because I figured she would’ve said something by then if she planned on it.”

  Susan studied Doug’s face, searching it for any hint of guilt as she made a mental note of his last comment. Finally, she packed up the case file and told him she’d be in touch if she needed more.

  When Doug was gone, Mallory entered the interview room. Susan asked if she’d heard everything.

  “I did.”

  “Even his last comment?”

  Mallory nodded. “What if he knew Megyn was going to tell Chloe about the tip?”

  “What if the story about the tip is all bullshit and he planted the knife?” Susan suggested. “Clint said Duggart suspected Jolene of sleeping with another man, why couldn’t it be her husband’s nephew? Doug would have easy access to her. Maybe he found out about Duggart and killed Jolene out of jealousy? From there, it was an easy matter of planting the knife and then finding it.”

  “That’s one theory,” Mallory said, nodding her agreement. “We need to put a tail on him in case he does something incriminating.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Near Chateau Parish District Attorney’s Office

  I looked at the clock on my dash. Almost noon. Isabel had promised to meet me across the street from the district attorney’s office at twelve o’clock sharp. I had backed into a spot in the bank parking lot so I could watch the front door of the DA’s office. I wanted to see Bill when he left for lunch. I couldn’t have him catching me and Isabel together.

  My eyes narrowed as I considered my meeting with Isabel. She had been such a good friend that I questioned my ability to be as objective as I’d need to be with her. Reginald had called earlier to say she located Chloe’s phone in Bill’s desk drawer.

  “I swear,” Reginald had said, “I searched every inch of his office. I don’t know how she found it and I didn’t.”

  “Are you sure it’s Chloe’s phone?” I’d asked.

  “It looks like hers, but I’m not positive. Isabel put it in a plastic lunch bag and sealed it, so I didn’t mess with it. We need to get it to the lab and have them process it for DNA and prints. I told her to give it directly to you and no one else. Bill leaves the office at quarter ‘til, so if you can be here for noon that’d be great.”

  I’d agreed with him and drove to town to meet with Isabel. As I sat there waiting for her, I was unsure how to broach the subject of her infidelity. I needed information from her and, if she was guilty, I needed a confession. But how would I extract that information without her asking for a lawyer or refusing to talk? And could I be tough on her if it became necessary?

  I was tempted to have Reginald with me when I questioned her, but I was afraid he’d beat a confession out of her—or worse, kill her—if she was responsible for Chloe’s murder. I couldn’t afford a suppressed confession. This would be my last murder case before I resigned and I needed it to stick. Chloe might’ve betrayed me, but she wasn’t a bad person and no one deserved what happened to her.

  I caught movement behind a parked truck and saw Isabel hurrying across the street toward the parking lot. She wore a form-fitting dress with thick black and white stripes. How appropriate, I thought, a prison outfit.

  When she reached the passenger’s side of my Tahoe, she quickly peeked over her shoulder before slipping inside. “I don’t think anyone saw me,” she said, a little breathless. She reached into her large brown purse and pulled out a plastic lunch bag. I sighed when I saw the phone inside. “Is this Chloe’s?”

  I nodded and took the bag from her. “Where’d you find it?”


  “It was in Bill’s bottom desk drawer, inside a cigar box.” She pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face. “I’m guessing this is it, then? Are you going to arrest him?”

  “We need to talk first.” I fired up my Tahoe and pulled out of the parking lot, heading west along the busy street. I drove out of town and headed south toward the sheriff’s office.

  Isabel looked behind us and then puckered her brow. “Where are we going? I need to get back to work.”

  “You’ll see,” was all I said as I continued driving south for twenty minutes. When we were about five miles from the sheriff’s office, I turned east on a dirt road that cut between some cane fields. The road was bumpy and dust kicked up in our wake, making the highway behind us disappear from view.

  “Good Heavens, Clint, where are you taking me?” There was a hint of panic in Isabel’s voice.

  I finally turned off on a side road and stopped beside a large canal. I shut off the engine and faced Isabel. “Have you ever been out here?”

  Isabel shook her head, her face a deeper shade of pale.

  “This is where Jolene Hedd used to meet her lover, Lance Duggart.” I opened my door and stepped outside, waving for her to do the same. When Isabel was standing beside me in front of my Tahoe, I pointed to a patch of thick green grass. “That could be the very spot they made love for the last time.”

  Isabel stared blankly at the spot. “Clint,” she began, her voice quivering, “why are we here?”

  “I thought this would be an appropriate place to talk.” I walked to the spot in the grass and then turned to face Isabel. Her dark eyes were wide.

  “I still don’t understand what’s going on here.” She rubbed her hands against her hips, smoothing out her dress. “Why did we come all the way out here?”

  “So, as you might be aware, we recently learned that Bill was cheating on Jolene at the same time she was cheating on him.”

  “Um, I wasn’t aware of that exactly,” she said slowly.

  “Yeah, as it turns out, he was cheating with a woman named Izzy Ridley.” I squinted at her. “I remembered your husband calling you Izzy, and when my dispatcher ran your name, I found out your maiden name is Ridley.”

  Isabel reached out and grabbed the hood of my Tahoe to steady herself. “That…that has to be a mistake. That’s not true.”

  “It’s no mistake, Isabel. You were sleeping with Bill and you and he were the only two people who knew about Lance Duggart.” I frowned. “It was either you or Bill—or both of you—who killed Jolene and planted the knife in Duggart’s garage.”

  “That’s ludicrous, Clint.” Isabel grabbed at her throat with her hand and backed closer to my Tahoe. “I would never.”

  “Well, I received a call from Susan earlier. She had an interesting conversation with Doug Cagle. You know him, right? He’s the detective who found the murder weapon in Duggart’s garage. Turns out, he didn’t just stumble upon it.” I shook my head. “No, ma’am, someone tipped him off, and that someone was a woman who tried to make her voice sound husky. Do I need to remind you that the only two people who knew about Duggart and Jolene were you and Bill?”

  “Clint, you have to believe me, I had nothing to do with Jolene’s murder. For Christ’s sake, I’m a mother, not a killer.”

  “I want to believe you, but you have to come clean about the affair before I can believe anything you say about the murder.”

  Isabel’s chin trembled and tears welled up in her eyes. “Clint, please…it would destroy my husband.”

  “Your husband will be the least of your worries if I can prove you killed Chloe, Jolene, and Megyn.”

  “But I didn’t kill anyone!”

  “Prove it.”

  “How?”

  “Start talking about your relationship with Bill, and don’t leave anything out.”

  Isabel was bawling now. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. I remembered Susan’s warning and didn’t approach her. Instead, I kept my hand close to my pistol and watched her carefully.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Spill it. I’m running out of time and patience.”

  Through breaks in her sobbing, Isabel described a sexual relationship that began when she was a single intern for Bill and continued until after she was married and working as an assistant district attorney. “He wouldn’t let me break it off,” she said, tears flowing down her pale face. “Every time I’d try, he’d threaten to tell my husband. I didn’t want to lose my family. I was trapped, can’t you see?”

  Not feeling any sympathy for her, I asked if she knew anything about Jolene’s murder.

  “I always suspected he might know something, because of how it impacted him. He carried on like a person who was overcome with guilt, not someone who was grieving.” Isabel had calmed down a little and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her dress. “I was really scared after that happened and I felt like he would kill me if I tried to break it off again, so I simply went along with whatever he demanded.”

  “Where were you the night Jolene was killed?”

  “Home, I guess. I mean, I don’t know exactly when she was killed. I just know I got a call from him one morning saying she had been found murdered at their house. I was home when I got the call.”

  “Where was he the night before that call?”

  “He was at a conference. I would usually attend with him, but I couldn’t go that time because I had to be in court all week, so I was home.”

  “Your husband…did he have any clue you were screwing around on him?”

  Isabel started bawling again and could only shake her head.

  “Did Bill ask you to page Doug and tell him about the knife?”

  She shook her head again, saying something that was indiscernible.

  I walked up to her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. “Get in the car. I’ll take you back to your office.”

  “Are you going to tell my husband?”

  “I don’t know yet.” When we were seated in my Tahoe and jostling along the cane field road, I noticed Chloe’s phone on the center console. “Where were you Wednesday night?”

  Isabel sniffed and shook her head. “I don’t know. Work, maybe.”

  “You’d better hope you have an alibi,” I said under my breath. I gripped the steering wheel as I drove, wondering if I’d used the right approach with Isabel. She’d come clean about her affair with Bill, but was she telling the truth about the murder? Up to this point, all we had were statements from our main suspects, Bill, Isabel, and Doug, and all of them denied doing it. What I needed now was physical evidence—something real to link one of them to the case. If I couldn’t find that evidence, Duggart might end up spending his life in prison for nothing, and Chloe’s murder would go unsolved. Both were unacceptable to me.

  When I reached the district attorney’s office I pulled right up to the front door. Isabel’s eyes grew wide. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You can’t drop me off here.”

  “Just get out of my truck,” I said sternly. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “But what if Bill sees me?”

  “That’s your problem.” I stared coldly into her bloodshot eyes. “I really don’t care if he sees you or not.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office

  After getting Isabel out of my Tahoe, I drove back to the sheriff’s office and reunited with Susan and Mallory in the large conference room. Melvin was also there and he greeted me with a huge grin.

  “How’s it going, Chief?”

  I shrugged. “It’s going okay, I guess. How’re things in town?”

  “Quiet, actually. It’s almost as though people are scared to go outside.” He rubbed his bare crown. “Claire is still trying to pressure me into quitting, but I told her this is what I want to do with my life. She’s not happy with me at the moment.”

  I nodded my understanding, and then updated them on my conversation with Isabel. “I’m leaning more
toward Bill being the killer,” I said, “but we need some physical evidence linking him to the crimes.”

  “The only physical evidence from Jolene’s murder points to Duggart,” Susan said. “So, we need to try and link him to Chloe’s murder and then work backward from there.”

  “All we have are projectiles,” Mallory pointed out. “And we compared the projectiles from their murders with all the projectiles we recovered during the shootouts at the police department and Clint’s house, but none of them match. We’ve got nothing.”

  “Wait a minute,” Melvin said. “Did you get a look at Bill’s shoes?”

  I shook my head. “Why?”

  “Remember? I recovered a dozen shoe prints from the bridge cabin. Most of them were from the floor and could be anyone’s prints, but I recovered one beautiful print from the door. Whoever kicked the door open dumped Chloe’s body in Bayou Tail, so all we have to do is match the print to a shoe, and we’ve got our killer.”

  “Where’re the prints?” I asked, suddenly excited.

  Mallory jumped to her feet. “They’re in our evidence locker. I’ll get them now.”

  When she was gone, Susan turned to me. “How are we going to get a look at Bill’s shoes?”

  I smiled. “If need be, you’re going to kick him right in the face and I’m going to pull his shoe off.”

  We laughed and made small talk until Mallory returned carrying a stack of large evidence envelopes. She pulled a scissor from her desk drawer and began carefully cutting each of the envelopes open so we could examine the prints. Several of the shoe prints from the floor appeared to have been made by the same type of boots Amy wore, and one set matched Melvin’s boots.

  “I thought they were mine,” Melvin said, “but it was hard to tell in the low light of the cabin, so I took all of them.”