by BJ Bourg
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.”
“You’re right.” I helped her grab some of the evidence bags and we carried them out into the night. I noticed a bit of activity near the crime scene tape and I looked up to see a number of cars parked alongside the narrow street. There were about a dozen people milling about, but they were too far away to distinguish facial features in the dark. “Who the hell are those people?”
“Word travels fast in these parts.” Dawn grunted. “They’re probably all of his heartsick girlfriends who won’t have access to his money or his free booze anymore.”
We loaded all of the gear into my truck and then made our way toward the yellow tape, where Lieutenant Marshall was talking to a young woman. The people in the crowd looked to be bar patrons. Someone had probably called Twisted Long Necks to announce the emergency and everyone rushed out to the scene.
The young woman looked up from Marshall when we approached and I recognized it to be Beverly. The nearby ambient light glistened off of the tears that streaked down her face.
“What happened?” she asked in a sorrowful voice. “He was fine yesterday. There was nothing wrong with him. He was happy and healthy. What on earth happened?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Dawn grabbed my arm and ushered me away from the crime scene tape. Holding up her phone, she called
over her shoulder to Beverly, “Excuse us for a second. He has to take this call.”
When we were out of earshot of the crowd, she handed me her phone. Confused, I put it to my ear and said, “Hello.” There was no one on the line.
“Stare into my eyes and pretend you’re on the phone,” she whispered. When I nodded to indicate I understood, she continued. “Don’t look now, but there’s a man standing at the back of the crowd over my left shoulder. He’s got dark, spiky hair, clear-rimmed glasses, and he’s wearing a white Polo shirt with two dark stripes across the chest. I think he’s also wearing khaki pants.”
I mouthed some words into the phone and nodded, allowing my eyes to casually drift to the spot Dawn identified. I saw the man she described. The light was dim where he stood, but he definitely looked concerned. He was watching Dawn and me closely.
I dropped my gaze and nodded again. “He looks like he’s shitting in his pants.”
“That’s because he might be the killer.”
CHAPTER 45
“You know that old saying, ‘Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead’?”
I nodded, still pretending to talk on the phone.
“I believe that’s what happened here.” Dawn wriggled her fingers. “Give me the cell now.”
I pretended to hit the button to end the call and handed it to her. She opened her image folder and scrolled through her recent pictures, stopping when she came to the one she’d taken of Wilton and his two friends in the yearbook. “Look at the guy on the opposite side of Shelton.”
I whistled. “Damn, it’s him. He still has the same hairdo.”
Dawn then scrolled to an image she’d taken of Shelton’s graduation picture. The stranger was two spots to the right of Shelton and his name was Pearce Vidrine. “Wilton, Shelton, and Pearce—these are the three guys Cade was talking about.”
“Damn, I think you’re right.”
“Keep an eye on him while I run his criminal history.”
Dawn was gone before I could say anything, so I walked back toward Lieutenant Marshall, acting casual and uninterested. Keeping Pearce in my peripheral vision, I crossed over to the outside of the crime scene tape and began speaking with Beverly. I asked her about the day-to-day operations at the bar and if there’d been any recent trouble between Shelton and anyone else.
After filling me in on the activities at the bar, she told me things had been quiet for months. “Every now and then some pissed off man will come in and cause a ruckus, usually accusing Shelton of screwing his wife or daughter.” She shook her head. “He doesn’t put up with that shit. He gets the bouncers to kick their asses and throw them to the curb. They never come back.”
“When’s the last time something like that happened?”
Beverly shrugged. “It’s been a long while…a good six months or so.”
I started to ask another question when Dawn appeared beside me. “He’s got warrants from out of New Orleans for failure to appear on charges of domestic abuse battery by strangulation,” she said.
“What’s with these assholes who insist on beating their wives?” I suddenly hoped he would resist arrest.
The warrant was good news, because we could take him in for questioning whether he wanted to come or not. The better news was that domestic abuse battery by strangulation was a felony in Louisiana, so his bond would be high, which would keep him in our custody for a longer period of time. The best news was that he wouldn’t know why we were arresting him, so we could use that to our advantage.
“Ready to bring him in?” I asked Dawn.
“Oh, yeah.” She turned abruptly and began walking toward the crowd. I hurried to catch up and my eyes locked with Pearce’s. His mouth dropped open and he took a step backward, making his way toward the back of the crowd. I started to shake my head, but he turned and broke out running.
Dawn and I shoved our way through the thin crowd and squeezed through the other side in a full sprint. We were closing in on Pearce at such a rapid pace that it wasn’t even fair. I couldn’t make out what kind of shoes he was wearing, but one of them went flying into the air as he ran. When his socked foot slammed onto the shells, he screamed out in pain and his pace was reduced to a staggering limp. I didn’t have the heart to tackle him, but Dawn wasn’t as merciful. She drove her shoulder into his back and sent him sprawling. They crashed violently onto the shells—his body broke Dawn’s fall—and he let out a heavy grunt.
I reached down and snatched up his left hand as Dawn bent his right arm behind his back. Once he was cuffed, we stood him to his feet and I shined my light in his face. Blood dripped from a large gash over his right eye.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” I said flatly.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Pearce said. “Why did you tackle me?”
“I didn’t tackle you,” I said, shooting my thumb toward Dawn. “She did.”
Dawn advised him of his Miranda rights, but he wasn’t listening. He interrupted her to say he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Then why’d you run?” she asked when she’d finished reciting his rights.
“It’s not illegal to run from the police,” he retorted. “So, if that’s why you tackled me, I’m going to sue your asses off. You’re going to pay for the injury to my face.”
“She didn’t tackle you for running,” I said. “You’re under arrest.”
“Arrest? For what? I didn’t break any laws.”
I stepped close and my eyes turned to slits. Even in the darkness I could see his color fade. “Stop playing your bullshit games. You know damn well why you’re under arrest.”
“I…no, I don’t.”
“Shelton Thomas, Wilton Michot, and you beat an old man to death thirty years ago.” I spoke rapidly, trying to get him to respond without thought. “Now, they’re both dead and here you stand at the scene of the crime…alive and well and pretending not to know why you’re going to prison. That’s bullshit if I ever heard it.”
“I didn’t do any of those things.” His voice was laced with panic. “You’ve got the wrong guy. I swear…I’m innocent.”
“Innocent? The only thing you’re innocent of is telling the truth.” I stabbed his chest with my index finger. “You beat that old man to death in the lumberyard all those years ago and you forced Wilton and Shelton to keep your secret. But they weren’t going to keep it anymore, were they? Nope, they were about to turn you in and you shut them up—for good!”
“I didn’t do any of it. Please, you’ve got to believe me!”
“The only thing I believe is you’re cold and ruthless. They were your friends, man, how could you do that to them?”
“But I didn’t do anything to them.” Tears of desperation were starting to form in Pearce’s eyes. “I swear to God, I didn’t do any of it.”
“Don’t drag God into this,” I said in a heated tone. “I bet that old man was begging for God’s help, too, but you ignored him. You told him God couldn’t help him and you beat him some more. You did, didn’t you?”
Pearce’s head rotated from side to side. “No…no, I didn’t.”
“I bet you went around killing a bunch of old men. You were a little rat-bastard, serial killer kid, weren’t you? Answer me…you were a little serial killer kid, weren’t you?”
“No…no, sir, I wasn’t.” Tears flowed freely down his face. His large teeth sparkled against the moonlight that had started to shine down on us. “I didn’t do any of it. I’m not a killer.”
“Bullshit! I’m thinking we’ve got a dozen old men missing. I bet you buried them all over Lower Seasville. We found at least one of your victims and we’ll find the rest of them, just you wait and see. And when we do, we’re going to try you for the serial killer bastard you are.”
“I’m not a serial killer.”
“Yes, you are,” I shouted. “Admit it!”
“I’m not!”
“You used to go around town killing old men, but your little reign of
terror is over. Your past has finally caught up to you.”
“I didn’t do what you’re—”
“You killed that old man in the lumberyard and you’ve killed at least a dozen more, didn’t you?”
“No…no, I didn’t!”
“You made a habit of going around killing old men, didn’t you? Answer me…did you make a habit of killing old men?”
“No, sir! I swear.”
“After you killed the old man in the lumberyard you went on a murder spree. Come on, man, admit what you did!”
“I didn’t,” he wailed. “Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“You didn’t go on a murder spree after killing the old man in the lumberyard?”
“No, sir. I swear, I didn’t!”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, the old man in the lumberyard was the only one you killed?”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 46
Three hours later…
“That was clever,” Dawn said as we stood in the hallway at the Seasville Substation. “By accusing him of being a serial killer, you had him feeling like one murder was not so bad after all. You one-upped him.”
I nodded. “I used to do that to my grandma when I was a kid. She always wanted me to be a good student and make straight A’s, but I could care less about school. I was a strong A-B student, but every now and then I’d squeeze out a C.” I smiled, thinking back to one late afternoon in Spring when I came home with two C’s on my report card. “When I got these two C’s, I knew she’d be mad, so I called her while she was still at work and told her I got an F.”
“You did what?” Dawn asked, laughing. “She must’ve wanted to kill you.”
“Oh, she started hollering about wasted opportunities and how I was throwing my life away and telling me I’d have to repeat the fifth grade and lose a whole year of my life. After about five minutes of listening to her rant and rave, I finally told her I’d made two C’s. You could’ve sworn I’d turned water into wine. All of a sudden, she was thrilled that I got two C’s.”