by BJ Bourg
“I’m almost sure of it,” Virgil said. “Gerard told me Joey’s the one who suggested he contact me.”
“So, they’re friends?”
Virgil shrugged. “I’m not sure how they know each other. Joey doesn’t come to the services, so they must know each other outside of church.”
“What about Nehemiah Masters?” I asked. “Do you think he really believes the garbage he spews about the wages of sin being death for adulterous women?”
It was very subtle, but Virgil’s hand hesitated for a brief moment at the mention of Nehemiah Masters. He recovered quickly and shrugged again. “Look, I go to the church because Skylar makes me, but I’m not buying much of what that man says.”
“Why does she make you attend church?” I wanted to know.
“What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room.” He sighed. “Remember how I told y’all I’ve made my share of mistakes?”
Dawn and I nodded, and he continued.
“The night I got stabbed, I was messing around with another woman. As I lay there dying, all I could think about was getting to see Skylar one more time. When she met me at the hospital later, I admitted everything I’d done and swore to change if she would give me another chance. She agreed, but told me we’d have to start attending church if things were going to work out between us.” He shrugged and continued scrolling through his bank account. “I love my wife, so I go to church with her.”
While it was a good story, I knew he was deflecting. There was something about Nehemiah Masters that made him uncomfortable.
“Do you mind showing us a list of your clients?” I asked. “While we don’t know much, we do know that one woman is dead and the other is missing, and you investigated both of them.”
“Are you back to thinking I did this?” His voice was terse. “Even after I voluntarily let you look through my bank account and offered to let you search my property?”
“No, I’m wondering if someone is targeting the subjects of your investigation—the ones who attend Second Temple Fellowship.” When I saw his face tighten again, I knew I was on to something. “How many Second Temple women have you investigated?”
Virgil leaned back in his chair and looked up at me, but didn’t say anything.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Let’s cut the cat and mouse game. I know you investigated Gretchen Masters, so save me some time and tell me what you know.”
Virgil continued staring up at me and it was more than Dawn could stand.
“Look, you little prick,” she began. “While you’re sitting here stalling, Debbie Brister might be out there hanging from a cross, running out of time. Just tell us what you know and get it over with. You said you were a cop, now act like one!”
Dawn’s outburst startled Virgil, but something she said hit home and he exhaled sharply.
“Look, I’m not saying Father Masters did this,” he began slowly. “I would never falsely accuse a preacher of committing a sin without clear evidence, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Just tell me what you know.”
“Two months ago, he comes to me and says he needs two buccal swab kits and he wants to know if I have connections with a private lab that can test the kits. He didn’t want me to open a formal investigation and he didn’t want me generating any paperwork. He said it had to be completely confidential.”
“And you agreed?”
“He said he’d pay me ten grand if I delivered the samples to the lab and then picked them up when they were done—what do you think?” He grunted. “That’s a lot of money for such a simple task, so I figured it had to be important to him. I picked up the results two weeks ago—on a Tuesday—and hand-delivered it to his house. The following Sunday, he gave the first part of his sermon about evil and adulterous women and talked about them getting the death penalty for their sins.”
I asked the obvious: “Do you think the sermon had something to do with the DNA tests?”
“I’m not positive, but Gretchen was crying throughout the sermon, so I believe it was related. She tried not to let people know she was crying, but it was obvious. Even Skylar noticed.”
CHAPTER 40
After spending almost two hours searching Virgil Brunner’s property, Dawn and I were satisfied Debbie wasn’t there and we’d uncovered no evidence linking him to her disappearance or to Kathleen’s murder. He’d also confirmed they were the only Second Temple Fellowship parishioners he’d investigated.
It was almost midnight when we left his house and I immediately borrowed Dawn’s cell phone and called Jerry.
“Is there any sign of Masters?” I asked.
“Nothing. The lights in the house went out an hour ago and everything’s been quiet ever since.”
“Let me know if anything changes.” I then called the sheriff and updated him on our progress.
“So, we don’t know if the killer is Virgil Brunner, Nehemiah Masters, Joey Bertrand, Gerard Brister, or some other wacko?” he asked.
“Virgil seems clean,” I explained, “and so does Gerard. I’m not so sure about Nehemiah Masters and Joey Bertrand. Hell, they might both be in on it.”
Sheriff Chiasson sighed heavily. I could tell he was tired. “We’ve been going door-to-door throughout the community,” he said. “Nearly all of the citizens out here have allowed us to search their houses, cars, barns—everything—but we’ve turned up nothing. A few hard-asses refused to let us go on their property, so I left deputies behind to pull surveillance just in case they’re hiding something.”
I told him about Jerry and Andrew staking out Nehemiah Masters’ property, but he told me he already knew about it.
“Where are you two heading now?” he asked.
“Joey Bertrand’s house. We’re going to confront him on his lies about his wife’s affair.”
“Let me know if y’all need anything.” Before ending the call, he told us to be careful and he wished us luck.
I handed Dawn her phone and raced down Plymouth Highway. I began to feel pressure building in my chest and I knew we were running out of time to save Debbie—if she wasn’t already dead.
“I’m telling you,” Dawn said, breaking the silence in the dark cab. “Nehemiah Masters stinks.”
“This whole thing stinks. The only things connecting the two women are the church and the private investigator, but neither Nehemiah nor Virgil has a reason to kill the women—unless you consider Nehemiah’s sermon a valid reason.”
“And what’s up with the DNA test Nehemiah requested?” Dawn asked. “Do you think he suspected Gretchen of cheating and he swabbed her?”
I grimaced. “I’ve seen some gross things in my time, but that sounds disgusting.”
Dawn nodded, chewing her lower lip like she did when she was lost in thought. She didn’t say another word until I turned into Joey Bertrand’s driveway. “Look…is that smoke coming from the cracks in the garage door?”
I flicked my bright lights on and squinted, trying to see through the small square windows of the garage door. It did appear foggy. I drove to within a few feet of the door and stepped out.
Dawn joined me and tilted her head upward to sniff the air. “It smells like exhaust fumes—”
“Son of a bitch!” I said. “He’s killing himself!”
While I pushed and kicked on the garage door in a feeble effort to break it down, Dawn raced toward the front of the house. I heard a banging sound and then wood splintered, and I knew she was inside.
I kicked at the garage door repeatedly, but it only shook and didn’t break. Finally, it trembled and began to rise. I could hear Dawn coughing inside. Without waiting for it to open completely, I dropped to my belly and scooted into the garage when the crack was high enough to fit me.
“Over here,” Dawn called through the fumes and smoke, gasping for air. “Help me get him out of the car.”
I rushed to the sound of her voice and, through the haze, saw Joey’s figure slumped over in the driver’s seat of a small spor
ts car.
CHAPTER 41
2:00 a.m., Tuesday, August 19
Magnolia General Hospital, Chateau, Louisiana
I stirred awake when I heard my name. I opened my eyes and found Dawn cuddled up against me in the waiting room chair. I glanced around to see who had spoken and saw a nurse in pink scrubs standing over us. The smile on her face seemed to say, “Aw, y’all are so cute together.”
I gave Dawn a little push. “Hey, wake up. I think it’s time.”
The nurse nodded. “Mr. Bertrand’s alert and doing fine. You can go in and see him now.”
Dawn pushed lazily off of me and stretched. “That’s probably the last bit of sleep we’ll get for the rest of the week,” she said, groaning loudly as her back cracked.
I gave her waist a subtle squeeze and followed her and the nurse down the long hallway. We went up an elevator and hooked a right on the third floor. The nurse stopped outside of a room and turned to us before pushing the door open. “Since it was a suicide attempt, we’ve got him strapped to the bed for his own safety.”
I nodded and stepped inside after Dawn, who smiled cheerily. “Mr. Bertrand, it’s good to see you alert again.”
He turned to look in our direction, a sour expression on his face. “Why’d you have to show up when you did? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone and let me die?”
When we stepped closer to him, we could smell the strong odor of beer on his breath.
“We need to ask you some questions before you go killing yourself,” Dawn said bluntly. “Why don’t you start by telling us why you hired Virgil Brunner to follow your wife?”
Joey’s eyes fell. “How’d you find out about that?”
“We’ve got our ways.” Dawn slid the visitor’s chair near his bed and plopped into it. “Go ahead, explain away.”
“Look, I know it was wrong of me, but I felt I had no choice. She had opened a separate bank account, she started going to the gym, she was traveling…you know, all the things a woman does when she’s fixing to check out of a marriage.”
“Did you try talking to her?”
“I did, but she kept telling me not to worry, that everything was okay. She said she just wanted to separate the money so we wouldn’t have to worry about what the other was spending. She said it would be easier, but she knew I had fallen on hard times and didn’t have much work, so my account was much thinner than hers.”
“You had fallen on hard times?” Dawn shook her head slowly. “I don’t think that’s quite how Kathleen would’ve characterized it, but who’s counting, right? So, tell me what you did Wednesday when Kathleen left for church?”
After he explained what he did that evening, Dawn got him to describe everything he did later that night, and then she had him move through his entire weekend, ending when we showed up at his house. Either he didn’t follow Kathleen and kill her, or he conveniently left that part out.
“Are you sure you never left your house to follow her?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Come on, by then you knew she was cheating on you, and you just sat back at—”
“Wait a minute—how do you know she was cheating on me?”
“I saw the tape.”
Joey sat upright in his hospital bed. “Virgil told me he would put one printed copy in an envelope and destroy the originals. He lied to me!”
Dawn raised her hand. “No, we didn’t get anything from Virgil. We viewed the surveillance footage from the cameras at the Dark Sands Casino in Mississippi. That’s actually how we tracked down Virgil, and he told us he gave you the only copy he had of the photos.”
Tears flooded Joey’s eyes and began dripping down his face as he sank deeper into the mattress. “So, she was really cheating on me?”
Dawn shot a confused glance in my direction and then turned back to Joey. “But you already knew it. Virgil gave you the envelope with his report and the photos.”
“I never opened the envelope,” he said weakly. “It’s still sitting on the desk in Kathleen’s office.”
“So…you didn’t know?”
“No, ma’am. It’s why I didn’t want you searching my house. I knew you would find the envelope and I was afraid of what was inside.”
“I don’t understand why you would hire a private investigator to follow your wife, but then you wouldn’t want to know the truth.”
“I did want to know the truth, but I wanted to hear it from Kathleen. I wanted her to see the envelope and I wanted her to tell me the truth—whatever that might be. If it was true, I figured she would stop once she realized she was caught, but she never made it home. Instead, you two showed up and told me she was dead…” He squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the tears, but it was no use. When he continued talking, we could hardly understand what he was saying. “After she was gone, I didn’t want to know anymore. I wanted to believe she was true to me and I wanted the world to think she was a good woman.”
Dawn scrunched her face sideways. “If you didn’t know she cheated on you, then why’d you try to end your life?”
“Now that Kathleen’s gone, I have no more life.” He turned away from us and buried his face in the pillow. “I wish you would’ve just left me alone and let me die!”
Dawn rose slowly and stood over Joey Bertrand. “Before we leave, I’d like to get a sample of your DNA.”
“Why?” he asked without turning around.
“We need to compare it to some evidence we found at the scene—you know, just to clear you. And we’d like your permission to search your house. It might yield some clues as to Kathleen’s associates.”
He twisted around and stared at Dawn, his eyes bloodshot and shiny. “You have evidence that might catch the person who killed Kathleen?”
“We do.”
Joey sat up again and held out his arm. “Do it—take whatever you need and search whatever you like. Just find the person who took her from me.”
While Dawn explained that the procedure was as simple as swabbing the inside of his cheeks, I left the room and retrieved a buccal swab kit and consent to search form from my truck. When I brought them back to Dawn, she collected his DNA and had him sign the form. She then told him we’d do everything we could to find the person who killed Kathleen.
Before we turned to leave, Dawn paused. “I’ll make a deal with you,” she said, her voice filled with compassion. “If you agree to go on living, we’ll keep the details of Kathleen’s affair confidential. It does nothing to further our case, and you need to be there for your sons. Kathleen wouldn’t want you leaving them alone in the world.”
“I appreciate that,” he quietly. “And you’re right—I need to be there for my boys. I’d had so much to drink and I was so overcome with grief that I just wanted all the pain to stop.”
“Stay away from the booze,” Dawn warned, and then turned and led the way out the hospital and into the parking lot.
We drove to Joey’s house, where Melvin and Rachael were waiting for us. We spread out to search the house, with Dawn and me going straight to Kathleen’s office.
“There it is.” Dawn pointed to the desk, where a large yellow envelope was propped up against the printer. There was a printed label on the face of the envelope displaying Joey Bertrand’s name. Upon closer inspection, we found that it was sealed exactly as Virgil Brunner had described, with a piece of evidence tape across the flap and his signature affixed to the tape.
I pulled on some gloves while Dawn photographed it. Once she was done, I recovered it and held it up to the light, but it was too thick to see through.
“Should we open it?” Dawn asked.
I thought about it. “I think we know what’s inside, but we have to be sure.”
Taking out my knife, I carefully cut a slit in the bottom of the envelope—preserving the sealed end—and allowed the contents to carefully slide out into my hand. There were no surprises.
“I’m glad he didn’t open it,” Dawn said. “It’s bad enough to
think about your spouse cheating, but to actually see it…” She shuddered and turned to toss the rest of the office.
CHAPTER 42
Somewhere in Magnolia, Louisiana
Debbie Brister didn’t know what time it was, but she figured it had to be morning, because the man was back and it smelled like breakfast food. As his footsteps approached her, she cringed and tried to pull her knees together. Each time he came in she feared that was the time he would assault her, but he had maintained his distance thus far.
“It’s time to eat,” he said in a fake British accent. The last time he’d been in here he had spoken in a flat Cajun accent, and the time before that he tried sounding Australian. Debbie didn’t know if he was doing it to confuse her or torment her. Either way, it was working.
He removed the gag and she opened her mouth to stretch it. Her jaw ached and her throat was dry. It hurt when she swallowed, but she dared not complain about anything.
The man put a hand under her head and gently lifted it. Debbie’s teeth chattered in fear, not knowing exactly what would happen next. She was somewhat relieved when a cup touched her bottom lip and cold orange juice flowed into her mouth. She swallowed, but groaned in pain as it burned her throat.
“What’s wrong?” the man asked. “Does something hurt?”
Debbie just shook her head. She was terrified, but her stomach ached terribly from hunger. “I…can I have food? I’m hungry.”
“Sure, that’s why I’m here. I need to keep you strong for tomorrow. I want you to enjoy the whole experience.”
Suddenly, Debbie lost her appetite. Her jaw burned and she began bawling. “Please don’t hurt me. I swear, I won’t say anything if you just let me go. I won’t even make a report. I’ll just go home and pretend nothing happened.”
“Oh, but something did happen. You committed a most unforgiveable sin, and for that you must be punished.”
“No!” Debbie screamed, twisting her body, and jerking her arms and legs, trying to bust free from the chains. “Help me! Somebody help me!”