by BJ Bourg
I waved for him to stand. He complied and I turned him so I could remove his cuffs. He nodded gratefully and began rubbing his wrists as he returned to his seat.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
I took the seat opposite him and studied the young man before me. He had a bad rap sheet, but that didn’t mean he had killed Ty’s mom or was responsible for Ty’s disappearance. The fact that Ty was still missing was a problem. He could very well have killed his own mom, which would mean I was wasting my time going after J-Rock and Neal. It would also mean that J-Rock drowned for nothing.
“So, I understand you’re being revoked,” I began, wanting to get him talking about things I already knew the answers to. “How many years are you backing up?”
“Ten.”
“Wow, that’s a stretch.”
“Yeah, but I ain’t doing all that.” He smirked. “They’re gonna let me out like they did the last time. We’ve got a governor who’s on our side now.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep, it is.”
“So, when’s the last time you spoke to J-Rock?”
“J-Rock?” He shifted the glasses on his face. “I haven’t seen him since he went to jail again back—what was it?—five or six years ago, I think.”
“You haven’t seen him since he got released?”
“No, and I doubt I would even talk to him.” He snapped his fingers suddenly. “But, I did hear about his murder.”
“For someone who hasn’t talked to him in five or six years, you sure keep up with his latest breaking news.” I lifted a hand. “He died earlier today, and you already know about it? It didn’t even make the news cycle.”
“Nah, I heard about it through a friend. They sent me a video showing what happened.” He lowered his head, but kept his eyes on me. “You were in that video. They’re saying you killed him.”
Other than Rhonda Sylvester’s statement regarding what J-Rock supposedly told her about Neal, I had no evidence to prove Neal was involved in the drug trade with J-Rock.
“What if I told you I was sent a video, too?” I asked with a sly nod of the head. “And what if that video depicted you meeting with J-Rock?”
He scoffed. “Whatever, dude. There’s no such video.”
I decided to see if I could get him to slip up and correct me. “Yeah, there might’ve been a blue, plastic satchel in that video—a plastic satchel with crystal meth inside that went from you to J-Rock.”
“Um…yeah, whatever,” he said with a laugh. “I never had a blue plastic satchel in my life.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “It’s a leather satchel and it’s got your DNA all over it.”
Neal uttered a nervous laugh and gave a dismissive wave.
“Ask yourself one question,” I said slowly, “and it’s not if you feel lucky—it’s where in the hell could my leather satchel be? Could the police have it? Could they have sent it off to the crime lab for fingerprinting and DNA analysis?”
Neal was no poker player. His face turned a dry gray color and he shifted in his chair.
“Where’s your satchel, Neal?” I asked, resting my elbows on the table and leaning closer. “Why didn’t J-Rock give it back to you?”
“Look, I don’t know anything about a satchel. I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s the leather bag that you gave J-Rock.” I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “Why was your leather satchel found at a crime scene where a woman was murdered?”
“Hey, I didn’t murder no woman!” His head wagged from side to side. “I swear to you, I never touched no woman—not now and not ever.”
“Neal, J-Rock didn’t return your satchel, so you confronted him and demanded to know where it was, didn’t you? He told you that a fellow by the name of Ty Richardson had it.” I rapped my knuckles on the desk. “And you went after Ty to make him pay for stealing your drugs.”
“No! I…I…never went to his house.” He scowled. “How do you know about that?”
I stifled a grin. I had him right where I wanted him.
“I know a lot of things, Neal, and I know you’d better start talking unless you want to turn those ten years into fifty.” I stabbed the table with an index finger. “Tell me exactly what happened between you, J-Rock, and Ty.”
“I don’t know anything about no guy named Ty.” He shook his head. “You’ve got to believe me. And if he ended up with my bag—I mean, with J-Rock’s bag—then I have no idea how that happened.”
“Not good enough.” I stood and turned to walk away. “If you let me walk out of this door without telling me the truth, you won’t like what’s going to happen to you when the prison sentences are handed out.”
“But I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He clasped his hands together. “Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
I hesitated. “I might believe you about the murder if you tell me the truth about the drugs.”
He sucked in a mouthful of air and then let out a long sigh. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your drug arrangement with J-Rock.”
“Look, it was nothing, really,” he said. “Just a few hits here and there. You know, to bring in a little cash.”
“How’d it work?”
“Well, I would meet J-Rock in a parking lot—we never used the same one twice—and I’d give him my leather bag with meth inside,” he explained. “A few days later, we would meet up again and he’d give me back the leather bag, but there would be money inside of it then.”
“Who’d he have working for him?”
“Nobody was working for him,” he said. “I didn’t approve that.”
“Do you know what happened to your satchel?”
He studied me for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, you found it when you killed J-Rock.”
“I didn’t kill J-Rock.”
“His girlfriend filmed the whole thing.” Neal leaned back and nodded. “How y’all chased him down and pushed him over the cliff.”
“There’re no cliffs in southeast Louisiana,” I said dismissively. “So, you think I found your leather satchel after J-Rock died?”
“Well, yeah, how else would you have it?”
I studied his features carefully. Unfortunately for me and my case, I was starting to believe him. If he wasn’t involved, then who could it be? I’d run out of suspects. It’s always the hope of the investigator that one witness leads to another, who leads to another, who hopefully leads to the perpetrator. That wasn’t happening for me with this witness. I’d reached a dead end.
“I got it from Ty Richardson.”
Neal’s face remained blank.
“You knew nothing about Ty Richardson working for J-Rock?” I pressed. “You expect me to believe J-Rock never told you about Ty?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never heard that name before tonight.”
I continued questioning him late into the night, but I got nowhere. There were only two options—he was doing a damn good job of lying, or he was telling the truth. I believed it was the latter, but I wasn’t going to cross him off of my suspect list just yet.
CHAPTER 27
I woke up early on Wednesday morning and dressed in old jeans and a hoody that had the word “Police” displayed across the back and our department’s logo on the front—just as I had on the previous day. I was used to eight-to-five hours when we didn’t have a major case going on, so waking up at five was a bit out of my comfort zone.
Susan was still in bed. I was tempted to curl up beside her and fall back asleep, at least for another hour. After all, it’s not like I had been told to be up at that hour—it had been my choice, and I could change my mind if I wanted to.
Susan rubbed her eyes and gave me a once-over. “Are you going back out there today?”
I nodded. I had spent most of the previous day searching the wooded area behind Orange Way, going inch-by-inch, trying to find the slightest clue to tell
me if Ty had been there. I had also spent some time driving the streets of Mechant Loup, speaking to residents and asking them if they had seen or heard from Ty since Saturday night. It seemed as though he had simply vanished from the face of the earth.
“Didn’t you check that area yesterday?” Susan asked, stifling a yawn. “If he was there, I’m sure you would’ve found him.”
I explained that I had begun branching out from his camp and had covered a lot of ground, but there was still so much area to cover. “If he went out there Saturday night after what happened to his mom, he might’ve gotten turned around in the dark. He could’ve wandered deep into the swamps and gotten lost. He could’ve even fallen into a canal or stepped in a hole and broken a leg. Hell, he might be lying out there right now just waiting for someone to come along and help him.”
Susan pursed her lips. “Okay, I’m not gonna let you go out there alone again. Let me get some people together. The more eyes in the woods the better. Get permission from the landowner for a large group of us to go out there, and I’ll meet you with a posse.”
I kissed her and left the room, stopping to see Grace before leaving for work. She was sound asleep in her bed, her small arms spread wide like she had been falling-down tired when she went to bed. I gently kissed her forehead and rushed down the stairs. Achilles was in the back yard with Coco, and I called him over to the gate.
“You’re coming with me today, boy.” I could’ve sworn he understood what I said, because he whipped around in a complete circle and then sat abruptly on his haunches, his entire body quivering with anticipation as I opened the gate. Coco’s eyes drooped and she seemed to frown. “Sorry, girl, someone needs to stay behind and guard Gracie and her grandma.”
Achilles took a giant leap, landed on the driver’s seat of my truck, and then scrambled to the passenger’s side. I had decided to take my truck, because I didn’t want Achilles’ claws tearing up the upholstery on the Tahoe. I had also used it yesterday after making a trip to the landfill to unload the remnants of the outhouse from the Waxtuygi Wildlife Nature Park.
As I drove up the long street that led from our house to Main Street, Achilles stuck his head out of the window and allowed his tongue to flap in the wind. His eyes were half closed. He was the picture of sheer pleasure.
Before heading to the back of Orange Way, I drove to Sam Beard’s house and quickly downloaded the footage from his surveillance cameras to a flash drive. I had meant to do it yesterday, but had gotten so wrapped up in my search for Ty that I’d run out of daylight. Today, I decided to do it before I got too busy.
Sam’s wife was standing over the stove whipping up some scrambled eggs when Sam led me through the kitchen.
“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” she offered. “We’ve got a lot.”
“These are the best scrambled eggs you’ll ever eat,” Sam bragged. “Once you eat my wife’s eggs, everything else will taste like cardboard.”
It was extremely tempting, but I told him Achilles was waiting in the truck and that we had a full day ahead of us. “We’re gonna search the area behind Orange Way and see if Ty might’ve gotten lost in the woods.”
“You still haven’t found that boy?” he asked, rubbing his beard in thought.
“No, sir.” I shook my head. “I don’t know where he might’ve run off to. I’m starting to worry about him.”
Sam lifted a finger. “I tell you what, I’ll round up some of my hunting buddies who’re off work and we’ll head out to Orange Way and give you a hand searching those woods.”
I thanked him and headed outside, where I saw three young boys standing on the street corner waiting for the school bus. They were staring at Achilles. My dog’s head was extended out of the window and he was looking back at them, a curious expression on his face.
“What kind of dog is that, Mister?” asked one of the boys.
“It’s a wolf, isn’t it?” asked the other.
I smiled and stopped to rub Achilles’ head. “He’s a German shepherd,” I said. “Want to pet him?”
They all nodded eagerly and crossed the street. I gave Achilles an approving nod and he allowed his head to be roughed-up by the teens.
“He’s so big,” one of them said in awe. “Where can I get one like that?”
I told them about Mrs. DuPont—the woman who had given Achilles to me—and where to find her. “I’m not sure if she’s still raising pups, but if you can get one from her, you’ll be striking German shepherd gold.”
Before leaving, I asked if any of them knew Ty Richardson.
“Oh, yeah,” said one of them, “he’s that crazy guy who walks around town talking to himself.”
“Well, he’s not crazy,” I corrected. “He just suffers from mental problems. He’s a good fellow, a kind man.”
One of the boys, a sandy-haired kid who hadn’t said anything up to this point, stepped forward. “My uncle was talking about him to my mom and dad last night,” he said in one of the flattest Cajun accents I’d ever heard. “He said he saw him walking on his street early in the morning on Sunday.”
“What?” I asked. The kid now had my undivided attention. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded his head vigorously. “I’m positive. He said he saw that man named Ty walking on his street. He even showed my mom the picture in the free newspaper they throw in the yard.”
I asked him where he lived, and he pointed up the cross street.
“I live in the white house next to the blue house.”
“Is your uncle there?”
He shook his head. “He’s back at his house.”
“And where does he live?”
“On Camp Street,” the boy said. “On the east side.”
I had a sinking suspicion I might know who his uncle was, because he kind of favored the man. “What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Nikia Billiot.”
I scowled inwardly. That wife-beating piece of shit would make a horrible witness. To the boy, I only smiled and asked if his uncle still lived in the same place he’d lived a few years ago.
“Yes, sir, he’s in the same place.”
“And you said Nikia claims he saw Ty on Camp Street?” I asked, wanting to be certain. “On the east side?”
The boy nodded.
I thanked him and jumped into my truck. As I headed for the east side of town, I called Susan and asked her to hold off on her posse.
“I might’ve been looking in the wrong place,” I said. “I spoke to a kid who said his uncle saw Ty on the east side of town late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. And you’re never gonna guess who the uncle is.”
“Nikia Billiot,” she said without hesitation.
I jerked the phone away from my ear and stared at it in shock. When I put it back to my head, I asked, “How in the hell could you possibly know that?”
“I just called Lindsey to ask if any complaints were pending before I started rounding up volunteers, and she said Nikia called in with a tip about the missing man we were looking for.” She sounded amused with herself. “I told Lindsey I’d pass the info along.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” I said. “I’ll let you know if this pans out. It could be bullshit, knowing Nikia.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make contact with him?” she asked sadistically. “You know how he likes to beat women. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d try something stupid.”
“Maybe next time,” I said. “I need whatever information he might have. I’ve never known Ty to wander around on the east side, so this might be something worth checking out. It could explain why we haven’t found him yet.”
“And it could mean he accidentally killed his mom,” she reminded me. “Maybe he was trying to leave town and got confused, thinking the east side bridge was the Mechant Loup Bridge.”
“They look nothing alike.” I had just crossed the very bridge she had referred to and made my way to Camp Street.
“He was on meth, remember?
There’s no telling what he was thinking that night.”
I couldn’t argue with her.
“I’m here,” I said, keeping a wary eye on the trailer as I pulled to one side of the street. “I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
Achilles gave me a sorrowful look, and I nodded.
“Okay, you can come,” I said. “Just don’t bite him unless I tell you to, okay?”
Achilles seemed to nod his head as he leapt from the truck and followed me to the front yard of Nikia’s house. There was an old beat-up truck parked in the front yard. Out of a force of habit, I glanced through the windows and checked the hood as I walked by. The interior was dirty, but empty, and the hood was cold.
I really didn’t like men who abused their wives, so I had to remind myself repeatedly that I was only here to get information from him, and that he hadn’t done anything wrong—well, that I knew about. I was sure he had done something wrong, because that was his nature. I was at least hoping he didn’t have a girlfriend, because she would never be safe with him.
CHAPTER 28
I moved to one side of the door and knocked. Achilles stood like a statue beside me, his ears fully erect and alert.
“Easy, boy,” I said, not wanting him to lunge out if Nikia opened the door too quickly. Achilles might take any sudden movement as a sign of aggression and lash out at Nikia before I had a chance to stop him, so it was important that I was proactive in my commands.
The main door swooshed open and Nikia stood inside the storm door staring. He wasn’t looking at me. Somehow, he had spotted Achilles immediately and his eyes were transfixed on my giant dog.
“I…I’m not coming outside,” he said. “There’s no way I’m coming outside with that thing right there.”