London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  The closer Abraham drew to the canal, the thicker the grass and weeds became on the Russo’s tract of land. Lone trees began to spring up here and there until he reached a thin patch of woods. It was easy to find the path the boys had taken through the trees, because tall grass had been smashed and boot prints deposited in mud holes along the way.

  There was a warm breeze blowing and it carried the stench of the canal to Abraham long before he saw the water. It was at this point that he moved as close as he could to the tract of land to the east, walking slower and peering through the thick branches overheard. Try as he could, he wasn’t able to penetrate the umbrella that hovered above. He didn’t have permission to enter the property to the east, so he couldn’t jump the fence for a better view unless he saw something in plain view that would negate the need for a warrant.

  Abraham wiped a stream of sweat from his face and swatted at a mosquito, stopping at the water’s edge to survey his surroundings. Green lily pads floated on the surface of the water, blanketing nearly the entire opposite side of the canal. The white blooms were in stark contrast to the dark green background of the water and the surrounding foliage.

  Everything was deathly quiet, except for the gentle plopping of water every time a bass hit the surface for food. An uneasy feeling came over Abraham and he inched his hand closer to the pistol in his holster. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. He moved eastward along the canal, searching above him and straight ahead. Once he reached the barbed wire fence that separated the Russo property from the eastern tract of land, he began slowly moving north one step at a time, pausing to peer through the leaves.

  After taking about a dozen steps toward the north, he suddenly stopped and caught his breath. The wind had pushed a large branch aside and he caught a fleeting glimpse of something through the trees. It appeared to be on the other side of the trees, which made it nearly impossible to see, but it could’ve definitely been a human figure.

  Thinking quickly, he figured this could amount to an emergency situation, so he took a step back and then bounded over the barbed wire fence. He landed smoothly on the ground, twigs and dried leaves crunching underfoot. Not taking a chance, he drew his pistol and slinked forward, using the nearest tree as cover. He peeked from behind the tree and stared in the approximate direction he’d seen the figure. The trees didn’t part again, so he was forced to continue moving.

  He stepped from behind the first tree and covered a few feet of open space before leaning against another tree, this one a giant oak with low-lying branches. He moved twice more before he saw the figure again.

  “What is that?” He squinted, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. From that distance it didn’t look real—hell, it couldn’t be real—and he had a hard time catching a view of the entire figure. Gripping his pistol in both hands and keeping his head on a swivel, he moved forward, feeling his way with his feet. He’d learned a thing or two about stalking through the woods while trapped in the Blue Summit Mountains, and he called upon those skills right now.

  When he was a dozen yards from the tree line, something rustled in the dry leaves to his right and he spun in that direction, the muzzle of his pistol moving in unison with his gaze. Nothing was there. A chill reverberated up the back of his spine and he thought he could feel someone behind him. He spun back in that direction, but he was alone.

  Damn it, Abe, get a grip, he thought, wondering how much of the mountain terror had come back with him. He could still feel the hand come over his mouth—

  “Stop it!” he hissed aloud, trying to shake off the feeling of apprehension. He pushed forward once more and when he reached the tree line he was able to clearly see the object. It was located in the middle of a field on the next tract of land. His hand trembled as he jerked his portable radio from his belt and keyed it up.

  “231 to Headquarters,” he called in a shaky voice. “I need a supervisor and detectives out here pronto. It’s…it’s not good.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Don’t answer that,” I said when Dawn’s phone rang. We were just driving over Lake Pontchartrain and hadn’t been on the road for much more than an hour. “I know it’s the office.”

  Dawn pulled her phone from the glove compartment and checked the screen. She held it so I could see. “How’d you know it was the office?”

  “My phone’s been vibrating in my pocket for the past fifteen minutes.”

  “Why won’t you answer it?”

  Because I don’t want anything to interfere with me proposing to you—that’s why! I wanted to say. Instead, I said, “We’re on vacation and I don’t want them bothering us.”

  She playfully dangled the phone in front of my face. “Aren’t you just a little bit curious?”

  I shook my head stubbornly. “Not a bit.”

  “Well, I am.” With a flip of her thumb, she connected the call. “This is Dawn…”

  I winced when I heard the sheriff’s familiar voice blaring through the tiny speaker in her smart phone. “Where the hell’s London?”

  “Um, he’s right here,” Dawn said slowly. While we hadn’t gone through great lengths to hide our relationship, we certainly never publicized the fact that we were dating.

  “Why hasn’t he answered his phone? I must’ve called him a hundred times. I need both of you out here right away. We’ve got a body and it’s serious!”

  “Well, we’re east of New Orleans at the moment.”

  “That’s okay. Just get here as fast as you can.”

  Dawn looked at me for help, but I only grunted and shoved my elbow on the window frame, leaning as far from her as I could. I wasn’t happy she answered the phone and I wanted her to know it.

  “I don’t know if you remember or not, Sheriff, but we took the week off for vacation.”

  There was a brief moment of silence from the other end. Finally, I heard his muffled response. “Sorry, I forgot. Are y’all going anywhere special? Or can it wait? I really need the both of you here.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know where we’re going.” Dawn pursed her lips and glared pointedly at me. “But I guess it can wait. Where do you need us?”

  “Start heading to Plymouth East. You’ll see our cars in the driveway.”

  “What’s the situation?”

  “You’ll need to see it to believe it. Just hurry.” I thought he had disconnected the call, but then his voice came back on. “Dawn, is there something I should know about you and London?”

  I shot a glance in her direction and watched as her face burned red like a turnip. She stammered for a second, but quickly recovered. “Yes, sir—we’re the best damn detectives you have.”

  He didn’t even laugh, and that made me think they’d discovered something really bad. “Good, now get your asses over here before I have you replaced.”

  “Why’d you have to answer the phone?” I asked when she ended the call. “We have to get to—”

  I clamped my mouth shut.

  “Get to where?” she asked. “You won’t even tell me where we’re going, so how do I know I even want to be there?”

  I didn’t want to argue with Dawn, so I grumbled silently to myself and took the first exit after we got off of the Twin Span. Before long, we were heading back across Lake Pontchartrain on our way to Plymouth East. I didn’t know what they’d found, and I didn’t really care. I’d made important plans—probably the most important of my life—and I’d be pissed off if I had to cancel them. With luck, we could handle whatever needed handling and then head to Tennessee afterward. As long as we left tonight, we’d be fine.

  Whatever they found, I thought, it’d better be damn good—or bad—because I’m not cancelling this proposal over some bullshit.

  CHAPTER 7

  Ninety minutes later

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Don’t talk like that, London,” Dawn said idly, her mouth agape.

  “I don’t mean disrespect.” I pointed and shook my head. “I’m saying she looks like Jesus
Christ.”

  Abraham Wilson nodded from where he was leaning against a nearby tree. His uniform shirt was dark from sweat and the front of his hair was plastered to his forehead. “I thought the same thing,” he said. “Forgive my French, Ms. Dawn, but it scared the living crap out of me.”

  “Not only have I heard worse,” Dawn said, “but I’ve actually said worse.”

  Abraham chuckled and handed Dawn a piece of legal paper that was folded neatly.

  “Is this the search warrant for the property?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, it’s a consent form,” he explained. “I found the land owner and he granted permission to search his property.”

  “Did you tell him anything about this?” I asked.

  Abraham shook his head. “I only told him there had been a crime of violence back here and we needed to process the scene for evidence.”

  I ran my hand across my face and walked closer to the finding, trying to wrap my mind around what I was seeing. I’d been exposed to a lot of death and destruction in my career and thought I’d nearly seen it all, but this shocked me to my core. Someone had stripped this woman naked and crucified her—straight up nailed her to a wooden cross and planted her in the middle of a large field in the back of Plymouth East.

  I checked for shoe impressions in the dirt as Dawn and I approached the woman, but there was none. When I was a few feet from the cross, I shielded my eyes against the afternoon sun and tried to look at the woman’s face to see if I recognized her. We needed to identify her and we needed to do it in a hurry.

  “It’s bad enough to kill her by crucifixion,” I mused, “but why strip her naked?”

  “Humiliation,” Dawn offered. “If you strip a woman naked and expose her, it’s usually to embarrass her—and it’s usually some sort of payback. Think of those pricks who engage in revenge porn. They post pictures of their former lovers naked to humiliate them for making the right choice to leave their sorry asses.”

  “So, you think this is for revenge?” I asked, studying Dawn’s face.

  “At this moment, any guess is as good as the next, but I think the humiliation aspect points to some sort of payback or punishment.”

  I was thoughtful. “If the purpose is to embarrass her, why not place the cross in a more public place?”

  “Because they’d get caught.”

  That made sense. If the killer would’ve tried to erect a cross anywhere near civilization, it would’ve gotten lots of attention. Plymouth East was so small the people here couldn’t have sex without the neighbors reading about it in the community newsletter.

  I turned my attention back to our victim. The woman’s eyes were closed and her mouth hung open as though she had fought hard for her last breath. Dawn moved a step to my left and we each began visually inspecting the victim inch by inch, looking for any clues that might help us figure out her identity. She didn’t have any tattoos that I could see, but there was a scar across her belly. I pointed to it.

  Dawn nodded and snapped a picture of it. “Caesarean section…she’s a mother.”

  The woman had curves, but she appeared fit, as though she exercised on a regular basis. Although she was pale in death, it was clear she had a bronze complexion.

  Dawn moved closer to the cross and took a picture of the woman’s feet. The left foot had been folded over the right foot and a large rusty railroad spike had been hammered through both of them. Dawn shook her head in disbelief. “Who would do something this crazy?”

  I didn’t have an answer for her, so I just kept looking for clues and jotting my observations in my notebook. Railroad spikes had been hammered through each of her wrists, as well, and there were trails of dried blood leading from each of the wounds. It had dripped down the splintered boards of the cross and pooled on the ground far beneath each of the spikes. Dawn set out to collect samples from each pool of blood.

  I snatched a measuring tape from my crime scene box and measured the height of the vertical board, which was a piece of six-by-six treated lumber that had been out in the weather for a while. It was just over eight feet high. The horizontal board was about five feet long. The center of each board had been notched to allow the two to be merged together, and the cuts in the notch were fresh.

  I stepped back and glanced around. “There’s no way the killer nailed this woman to the cross after erecting it.”

  Dawn nodded her agreement. “It would’ve been much easier to nail her in place while it was on the ground, and then hoist it into the air afterward.”

  There was a pile of dirt packed high around the base of the cross. Judging by the amount, the hole must’ve been four feet deep. When I stepped around the cross and examined the ground behind it, I was able to detect a faint impression of the cross in the short grass that grew in the field. It wasn’t as tall as the grass on the adjacent property, so I figured cattle must graze in this area intermittently.

  Dawn saw where I was looking and she moved to inspect the ground where the cross board would’ve been resting. She waved me over. When I was standing over her, she pointed to specs of blood spatter sprayed across the blades of grass.

  “This is where she was hammered to the cross,” Dawn said, and then shuddered. “It just sounds so weird to say it out loud.” She pointed toward the canal. “He must’ve come by boat, because there’s no way to get back here by vehicle.”

  I nodded idly and studied our surroundings. “How’d the killer get the cross up into its stand? I don’t know anyone strong enough to single-handedly walk it up and drop it into the hole with a body attached to it. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Dawn asked when I didn’t say anything more. Instead of answering her, I walked toward where Sheriff Corey Chiasson was sitting in the shade of a large oak tree about fifty feet from the front of the cross. I glanced at him and scowled. He was pale and looked like he was going to be sick.

  “Are you okay, Sheriff?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to lie to you, London…this has got me shaken. For someone to kill another human being in the same manner that Jesus was killed…”

  His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to say more. We were all freaked out by it and knew we were in the presence of pure evil.

  I moved past him and examined the trunk of the tree carefully, looking for any holes or scars on the bark. Finally, I located a tiny hole about three feet from the ground, and then another several feet above that one and to the right of it. Higher and higher the holes zigzagged and I followed them with my eyes until I saw a large branch with some scuff marks. It appeared a chain had been wrapped around the branch. Several feet to the right of it were more scuff marks. I nodded and turned to face the cross.

  “He secured a couple of come-alongs to that branch above us, and used them to hoist the cross into the air. As it rose, the foot of the cross slowly slid into the hole and fell into place.”

  The sheriff glanced overhead. “But how’d he get up in the tree?”

  I pointed out the tiny holes in the trunk. “He used screw-in tree steps to climb up there and the rest was easy.”

  “Now that we know how this crazy person did it,” Dawn said, “we need to figure out who did it…and why.”

  I stared at the woman and nodded, trying to imagine the terror and torture she endured in her last minutes on earth. I could think of but a few individuals who were deserving of such treatment, but they were bad men who hurt children and women. A warm breeze blew across the field and something caught my eye above the woman’s head.

  “What’s that?” I asked, approaching the cross again so I could get a closer look. Something was flapping just above her head, but I had missed it earlier because of her thick blonde hair. “It looks like a note of some kind.”

  “Do you think the killer left a clue?” Abraham asked from his perch beside Sheriff Chiasson. “Maybe a taunting message?”

  “I’m not sure.” I strode to my crime scene bag and pulled out the binoculars I kept there. Onc
e I moved to a place where I could get a clear view of the entire page, I peered through one of the lenses and adjusted the focus. I grunted when I read the single word scribbled in dark ink on the page.

  “What is it?” Dawn asked. “What’s it say?”

  “Sinner…it just says, Sinner.”

  CHAPTER 8

  While we were thoroughly examining the cross and surrounding area, we mulled over the meaning of the message attached above the woman’s head, and we began trying to figure out how to lower the cross.

  “We could do it in reverse order,” I suggested, pointing to the branch above us. “Get a couple of come-alongs, attach them to the branch, and wrap the end of the cable around the cross. We would then start digging into the back of the hole at the base of the cross and make a trench going in the opposite direction. It would free up the back of the cross. We could then start giving the cable some slack while pushing the cross backward. If everything works as I think it should, we would slowly lower the cross onto its back, and we’ll be able to free the victim.”

  The sheriff slapped his knee and stood to walk away. “I’ll work on getting you everything you need.”

  I asked him to wait while I wrote out a list of other tools and items we’d need. He snarled dryly when I handed it to him. “It’s longer than my wife’s grocery lists.”

  Once he disappeared into the thick trees of the adjacent tract of land, Dawn pursed her lips. “I’ve never seen him like this.”