by BJ Bourg
“Drugs? Like crack or meth?”
“No…like marijuana.”
“No, sir. We don’t fool with that stuff.”
After asking him more questions about Denny and any potential enemies, I nodded and asked how he had gotten to Rory’s house.
“I’m in…I…I drove my truck here.”
I stood and waved for him to do the same. After walking him outside to where his truck was parked, I told him to go home and stay out of trouble. “I’ll be in touch if I need anything.”
He just nodded and hurried off, not looking back.
Night was falling fast and the mosquitoes were out in full force, trying to drink as much blood as they could before winter set in. I pulled out my phone, winced when I saw three missed calls from Dawn. I made a mental note to call her as soon as I was done here, then dialed communications. When a dispatcher answered, I asked her to run the serial number on Rory’s pistol.
“Is it a Smith and Wesson nine millimeter semi-auto?” she asked after being gone a minute or two.
“Yep.”
“It’s stolen out of Mathport. Give me a minute…”
I turned toward the house, where light was now glowing from the kitchen window, and shook my head. “You little shit.”
“Okay, yeah…it was stolen from a truck on Pine Avenue a month ago. A man was leaving for work early one morning and found his passenger’s door slightly open. Some things were moved around inside and he checked his glove compartment and realized his gun was missing. There were some other odds items missing, like spare change, a GPS, and a pocket knife.”
“Thanks,” I said and hurried back to the house. I found Rory and his dad sitting on the sofa in the living room. “Stand up, Rory. You’re under arrest.”
“Wait a minute, detective.” Dennis jumped up. “What are you arresting him for? What’d he do?”
“For burglary. That pistol I found in his room is stolen.” I pulled my cuffs from where they hung on my back waistband. “Stand up, Rory—and don’t make me say it again.”
His head hung low in shame, Rory stood and turned so I could cuff him. I read him his rights and took him by the arm.
Dennis stood watching, his mouth wide in shock. “What…what do I do? How long will he have to stay in jail?”
“He’ll be booked into the detention center in Chateau and a bond will be set,” I explained. “Depending on the amount of the bond, you should be able to bail him out on Monday morning.”
“How much will it cost?” he asked. “I don’t have much disposable cash.”
I shrugged. “It depends what judge is on duty. Some judges don’t appreciate people stealing guns, and the others just plain hate it.”
As I led Rory out into the night, his dad began to cry and started telling him how disappointed he was in him. It made Rory cry, too, and I was wondering if he was crying because of the gun or because of what he might’ve done to Denny.
I jerked the seatbelt forward and strapped him into the back of my truck and headed toward the jail, which was located in Chateau, the parish seat for Magnolia Parish and as far north as one could travel without leaving Magnolia. Most of the main government buildings were in Chateau, including the courthouse, the district attorney’s office, the clerk of court’s office, and the executive office of the sheriff’s office.
I called Melvin while I drove and explained what had happened. I then asked him to transport the pistol I’d recovered from Rory, along with the bullets we’d recovered from the suspected murder scene, to the New Orleans Police Department’s crime lab.
“You realize tomorrow’s Sunday, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a friend named Daniel Verdin who supervisors the ballistics lab out there. He owes me for helping him on a case, so I’ll call to cash in that favor and see if he can meet you there first thing in the morning. I’d go myself, but I have sniper training in the morning and Rachael has to be there, too. If you can’t go, I can cancel training and—”
“Nonsense, I’ve got this. Where can I pick up the gun?”
“I’ll put it in the temporary locker in evidence. Sign it out and bring it with the bullets.”
“Do you want me to go tonight?” he asked. “I was just having supper, but I can leave as soon as I’m done if your buddy can meet me out there.”
“No, tomorrow’s good. I think tonight would be pushing it. They’ll have to extract whatever blood and tissue is on the bullets before testing them, so Daniel will have to get a DNA person out there with him.”
“You think the kid’s our shooter?”
I glanced at Rory in my rearview mirror. His head was pressed up against the back glass and his eyes were blank as he stared at the street lights whizzing by. “I don’t know, but we need to get this done before he bonds out—just in case.”
“Got it.”
After we hung up, I dialed Dawn’s number.
CHAPTER 12
Bent Fork, Arkansas
7:00 PM
Dawn turned onto the mountain road and dropped it into first gear. The large tires on her Jeep grabbed the rocks and moved easily up the steep road that led to her mom and dad’s driveway. When she turned onto the concrete drive, she scowled. “When did they pave this?”
She wondered what else had changed as she cruised toward the house. There were a series of peaks on the long driveway, and each time she crested one she got a better view of the house in the dim light of the setting sun. From what she could see, the exterior was still painted gray and that old wooden swing still hung from the front porch. She grunted when she came over the last hill and saw the banner across the side of the house. Every light in the front of the house was on and she could plainly read the banner: “Welcome home, Dawn…hope you’re here to stay.”
It was dark now and she thought about turning around and finding a hotel to sleep in for the night, but quickly dismissed the thought. She wanted to see her mom as quickly as possible. She’d wanted to leave earlier, but she and London had been busy wrapping up all the paperwork from the ice pick murders and it had taken longer than expected. There was also the funeral. It was beautiful, but, at the same time, sad and tragic. Anytime an officer is killed in the line of duty, the funeral is a big deal. It takes time to organize the event and get everything just right—this one was no exception—and she wasn’t about to miss it. There had also been a few court proceedings related to the case and the district attorney requested her presence, which further delayed her departure.
But, here she was, driving up to the same old house she had left so long ago. Other than the driveway, not much had changed about the place, and that gave her pause. Everything looked much like it did the day she walked in and almost killed her dad.
Fear clutched at her throat and threatened to constrict her breathing as she went back to that day. She shook her head, trying desperately to dislodge the images that flashed like movies in her mind. Needing to hear a familiar voice, she took out her phone and checked it for the hundredth time. Other than a short message from London around lunchtime saying he had caught a murder investigation, she hadn’t heard a thing from him. She had called a few times when she stopped for gas, but he never answered.
She frowned, hesitated. Should I call again? What if he starts thinking I’m needy or weak? Will that turn him off? What if he’s already forgotten about me?
Sighing, she put the phone away without calling and jumped down from her Jeep. Time to be a big girl and face the world she ran from so long ago. And hopefully I can do it without killing someone, she thought.
The walk to the back door seemed longer than at any other time in her life. Her legs strained from the steep incline of the walking path and she felt breathless. She didn’t know if it was from the altitude or nerves, but, either way, she knew she’d have to grow accustomed to the thin air and hills again.
She smiled when she saw the familiar wooden bear near the door. It was painted black and had a yellow honey pot at its feet. She rememb
ered when her mom bought it at the county craft show. She was only seven or eight at the time, but remembered it being just a carved out piece of wood when they brought it home. She and her mom had spent the whole day painting it, much to her dad’s disapproval. He had gotten home from work late and he was hungry, but supper wasn’t done and that pissed him off. Her mom had paid dearly for spending time with her.
Dawn’s heart began to pound as she remembered the sickening sound her dad’s hands made as they smacked her mom around, and how guilty she’d felt for keeping her mom from doing her daily chores. It was the last time she and her mom had painted anything together—
The door burst open and Dawn jerked in surprise. She let out a startled grunt and almost punched out instinctively, but caught herself when she saw her mom standing in front of her, holding a large pot of hot oil.
“Dawn!” Her mom turned and hollered into the house. “She’s here! My baby girl is home!”
Dawn quickly reached out and grabbed the pot, her heart sinking when she saw how frail her mom looked. Her eyes were hollow and her cheeks sunken in. Her hair was thin and had fallen out in patches, and the dress she wore rode on her like an oversized night shirt. “Here, let me get that for you, Mom.”
“No, dear,” Priscilla Luke said, pulling away. “I won’t allow cancer to slow me down.”
Dawn pursed her lips and nodded, stepping out of the way. She was about to follow her mom down to the old ditch where she’d been dumping old grease for decades, but she was nearly tackled from behind. She glanced over her shoulder to see who had grabbed her in a bear hug and smiled when she saw that it was her brother, Darby. His dark hair was thinner at the top and it looked like he’d packed on a few pounds, but there was no mistaking her only sibling.
“Darb the Barb!” she twisted around and hugged him with all of her might. “God, I missed you so much, little brother.” She’d always called him little, although he had passed her up in junior high.
“I missed you, too, sis.” Darby’s voice choked up a little and Dawn felt warm drops of liquid on her neck and she knew he was crying. She bit down hard so she wouldn’t start crying, too. “I’m so sorry I got mad and turned my back on you,” he continued. “I was too young to understand everything, but I now know what you were trying to do. I wanted to do it myself a few times, but I didn’t have the strength. I’m not strong like you.”
He was sobbing now and Dawn patted his back. “It’s okay. We’re all back together now and that’s what matters.”
Darby pulled away and nodded, rubbing his open hands across his face to wipe away the tears. “Come inside so I can introduce you to my wife and your little niece. They’ve been dying to meet you.”
“Let me have a word with Mom first.” Dawn turned and walked to the old ditch. Her mom was leaning against a nearby tree while holding the grease pot upside down. She looked up when Dawn approached.
“I made your favorite—fried chicken, rice, and corn.”
“That sounds so good right now.” Dawn rubbed her belly for emphasis, but frowned when the pot slipped from her mom’s hand and fell into the ditch. She hurried forward and stepped into the ditch before her mom went for it and hurt herself. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”
“I can do it, child. This disease won’t control me.”
“I know you can, but there’s no need for you to get your shoes dirty. I’m wearing old work boots.” When Dawn looked up she saw the glow from the porch light reflecting off of the tears leaking down her mom’s face. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Priscilla turned and leaned her back against the tree and shook her head, sobbing into her hands. There was a long awkward silence, with neither woman knowing quite how to break the ice that had built up over so many years of absence. Finally, Dawn said, “It’s me, Mom—your little girl. You can tell me anything.”
“Truth be told, I don’t know if I want to go through with this,” Priscilla said. “I’ve been pricked and prodded so much I feel like a pincushion. They say the new treatments are only experimental anyway and they don’t know if they’ll work. I’m just so tired of fighting—of being in pain. I just want it all to end.”
Dawn swallowed a lump in her throat and wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders. “You’re going to beat this. I know you will. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
“I’m not afraid of dying, you need to understand that, and you and Darby will be fine.” Priscilla dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I just don’t know what your dad is going to do when I pass away.”
“You’re not going to pass away,” Dawn said defiantly. “You’re going to beat this thing. I just know you will—”
“The food’s getting cold,” Darby called from the back door. “And we all know Dawn doesn’t like cold chicken.”
Priscilla sniffed to clear her nose and ironed out her dress with her hands. “Let’s go eat and get you settled in for the night. We can talk some more later.”
Dawn nodded and started to walk with her, but stopped when her phone rang. She jerked it from her back pocket and grinned widely when she saw London’s number. “Mom, go on without me. I’ll be inside in a minute.”
“Who is it that’s got you smiling like you did when you climbed your first mountain?”
“His name is London Carter—you’re going to love him.”
CHAPTER 13
Fifteen minutes later…
Dawn felt like skipping to the house when she ended the call with London. He had been busy after all, and that was why he hadn’t had time to call. Instead of being bothered, she was relieved. She was smart enough to understand their jobs would sometimes interfere with their relationship, and she was okay with it. While, on the one hand, she wished she were back home working the case with him, there was no place she’d rather be at that moment than with her mom. The doctors weren’t sure how long she had left, and Dawn was going to spend as much time as possible with her before she passed.
Everyone looked up from the kitchen table when Dawn stepped through the back door, and Darby began chanting, “Dawn’s got a boyfriend!”
Dawn smiled and quickly scanned the table. Her mom was sitting at the foot of the table, Darby was to her left with his wife, Heidi, beside him, and their baby was in a highchair next to Heidi. Dawn’s seat—the one to the right of her mom—was empty. She looked at the head of the table, but her dad wasn’t there.
Darby must’ve seen the look on her face, because he quickly said, “He won’t be joining us tonight. He figured it would be best if we had some time alone first.”
Priscilla cocked her head sideways and pursed her lips. “He’s trying so hard to get things right this time.”
Without commenting on Evan Luke’s absence, Dawn took her seat, nodded toward Heidi. “I’m Dawn, by the way…since my rude brother won’t introduce us.”
Heidi smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Yeah, well, you named your baby after me,” Dawn said, “so I guess it’s time you met me, am I right?”
They all laughed and Dawn waved at the baby, who was about six months old and had her mom’s blonde hair and blue eyes. Baby Dawny giggled and shoved a fist in her mouth. Drool dripped down her forearm and off of her elbow, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Priscilla extended her hands toward Darby and Dawn. “Let’s say grace before eating—like the good old days.”
“Dad would say grace in the good old days,” Dawn mumbled under her breath, taking her mom’s hand and bowing her head. She was relieved her dad wasn’t there, but disappointed that their meeting was postponed. She wanted to get that first contact over with as soon as possible. What will he think when he sees her? Will he be proud of what she had become? Will he be angry still? What will she say to him? The uncertainty of it all was killing her and she wanted it to be over.
When her mom was finished praying, Dawn grabbed a fork and began digging into the food on
her plate. Eating was slow, because her mom had a million questions about her job, her work associates, and—especially—London.
“Mom tells me he’s some kind of sniper,” Darby said. “Does he hunt?”
“Only humans,” Dawn joked. “He prefers going after animals that can fight back, not poor helpless creatures like Bambi or Thumper.”
Darby grunted. “I never heard you complaining when you were eating deer chili or rabbit stew.”
“No, I didn’t—and won’t.”
After eating, Darby and Dawn helped Priscilla clean up the dishes, and then Priscilla gave Dawn a hug. “It’s so good to finally see you again.”
Dawn gulped back a lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry I was gone for so long.”
“It’s okay, child. Everything’s fine now.” Priscilla pulled away and leaned on the table, fanning herself with a hand. “Phew, all that cooking’s got me winded. I’ll head off to bed, but we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
When Priscilla was gone, Darby waved for Dawn to follow him out onto the front porch. They sat on the swing and swayed back and forth—the chain squeaking with each motion—as they stared out at the stars.
“Remember when we’d sit out here and try to count the stars?” Darby asked. “We’d make a grid with our fingers and try to keep track of the ones we’d already counted.”
“Yeah, we were determined to figure it out.” Dawn’s feet dragged the wooden porch as the swing rocked gently back and forth. After a few minutes of silence, she said, “Mom looks bad.”
“Yeah, she’s thinking about not starting the experimental treatments tomorrow. I think she wants to give up.”
“She was talking crazy like that earlier.” Dawn slammed her boots down to stop the swing. “We can’t let her give up—she’ll die for sure.”
“She’s tired of being sick all the time. She said if she’s going to die, she wants to die with some dignity. She doesn’t want the end to come while she’s got her arms wrapped around a toilet bowl.”