by BJ Bourg
“No way!” I said. “Are you sure?”
Tracy assured me that she was correct and that the person’s fingerprints matched to the print I’d recovered from the doorknob inside the shed.
“What is it?” asked Susan and Melvin in perfect unison when they saw the shocked expression on my face. Even Achilles cocked his head to the side as he stared up at me.
CHAPTER 31
It was noon now, and Susan and I were still sitting across the street from the suspect’s house. There had been no movement since we’d arrived here several hours ago, after first taking Achilles back home. Melvin and Baylor were leading the search efforts on the east side of town and, so far, there had been no signs of Ty. In fact, there had been no signs of anyone ever having passed through that area.
“What if he’s inside?” Susan asked. “What if we’ve been sitting here all morning wasting our time?”
“His truck’s not here,” I countered.
“What if he was driving home and his left, rear tire blew out five miles outside of town and he didn’t have a jack, so he had to walk all the way back home?” She lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a long walk. He could’ve gone inside to take a nap before heading back to fix the tire, but slept too long and woke up to realize it’s lunchtime. Now, he’s sitting inside eating a big, juicy steak with an oversized baked potato fully loaded—”
“I get it,” I said with a laugh. “You’re hungry.”
“No,” she corrected. “I was hungry two hours ago. I’m starving now.”
I opened the armrest between us and checked the large compartment inside. I usually had a bag of chips or a chocolate bar lying around, but I didn’t see any.
“I must’ve eaten the last bag of chips,” I muttered. “Want me to call someone and ask them to bring us a couple of bowls of jambalaya?”
She didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes!”
I called Lindsey and asked if anyone was free to bring some food out to our surveillance location.
“I’d gladly bring it,” she said wistfully, “if it’d get me out of this office.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“No, the chief wouldn’t be happy if I left my work station.” She hummed to herself. “Oh, I see Regan in the hallway. I’ll get her to bring some of the jambalaya that Mr. Beard’s cooking. It smells so good!”
I thanked her and we continued to wait and watch. Fifteen minutes later, Regan drove up in her marked squad car. She was five-foot-five and—thanks to my truck having a lift kit and thirty-five-inch tires—she would’ve had to reach up to hand us the food and drinks, so Susan and I dismounted and joined her between the two vehicles. She reached in the back seat and came out with two paper bowls wrapped in aluminum foil.
Susan nearly took Regan’s hand off when she snatched up her bowl of food. We all laughed. Regan also handed out plastic utensils and two cans of soda.
“I’ll leave so I don’t blow your cover,” Regan said, glancing at the target location. “Maybe I should’ve brought an unmarked car.”
Susan’s mouth was already full, so I answered. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll expect us to be in this area.”
“How’s the search coming?” Susan asked when she’d swallowed what must’ve been her third bite.
“About like this…” Regan indicated her green BDUs. They were covered in dust and her boots were muddy. There were dark smudges across her porcelain face and even pieces of dried tree foliage stuck to her brown hair. “We’ve covered a lot of ground, but found nothing yet.”
I scowled, wondering if Nikia had been mistaken. I had been dutifully making my way toward the bottom of my bowl when I heard a vehicle approaching from the front of the street. I looked up and saw the truck.
“It’s him!” I said quickly. “Let’s look relaxed.”
“Does he know there was a hit on his prints?” Susan asked, wiping her mouth and placing the empty bowl and can on the back floorboard of my truck.
“No,” I said. “We got with his company and they agreed to send him for a drug screening—it’s the next step in the hiring process—and tell him he could have the rest of the day off.”
Regan glanced from Susan to me. “Want me to hang around?”
I nodded. “You can transport him to the police department.”
I had barely placed the half-eaten bowl of jambalaya on the floorboard of my truck when my suspect parked his truck under his carport. I quickly crossed the street, with Susan and Regan hot on my heels, but fanning out to the left and right.
“Hey, man,” I called just as he had stepped out of his truck. “How’s it going?”
Startled, Logan Pitre jerked his head around. He instinctively hit the lock button on the inside of his door and slammed it shut. He stared suspiciously from me to Susan to Regan and then back to me. “What’s this about?”
“I need you to come down to the police department,” I said. “I’ve got more questions about Saturday night.”
“I told you everything I know.” While his voice was steady, his face had paled slightly. “I’m just getting home. I’ve got the rest of the day off and I’d like to spend it with my family.”
“It won’t take long.”
“But we made plans to go out and eat,” he pressed. “I’m already running late.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” I stepped closer and indicated Regan. “You’re gonna get in Officer Steed’s car and she’s gonna take you to the police department.”
“Wait, I can’t drive myself there?” he asked, visibly shaken now. “What’s going on? Am I being accused of something?”
“Should I accuse you of something?” I asked pointedly.
He stammered for a few seconds. “I mean, am I under arrest?”
“No,” I said calmly—leaving out the fact that I could apply for an arrest warrant if I so chose. The fact that his fingerprints were found at a death scene to which he had no legal access was problematic for him. However, I didn’t want to mention the fingerprints yet. “I just have some questions for you. You’re not under arrest.”
“Why can’t I drive my own truck?” He swallowed hard. “If I’m not under arrest, why do I have to get in the back of a police car?”
“First off, you don’t have to sit in the back seat,” I said soothingly. “Secondly, you locked your keys in the truck and we don’t have time to unlock it for you.”
Logan jerked around and pulled on the door handle. “Shit!”
“It’s okay. We all do it from time to time.” I smiled. “Why don’t you just ride with Officer Sneed? When we’re done, I’ll bring you back and unlock your truck myself.”
He sighed. “Can I let my wife know what’s going on?”
“Sure.” I shot Susan a telling glance and she casually sauntered farther to the right, where she could see inside the trailer when he opened the door. We all waited as he opened the house door and leaned inside. He said something we couldn’t hear, and there was more discussion we couldn’t hear. He told Joselyn to make sure and lock the door, and then he turned away from the trailer.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, and followed me across the street. Before getting into Regan’s car, he looked at me one last time. “And I’m not under arrest?”
“No.”
“Because I could lose my job if I got arrested.”
“You’re not under arrest,” I said again. “And if you’re honest with me, there should be no problems.”
“I was honest with you the last time.”
This wasn’t the time or place to confront him, so I only nodded and told him how much I appreciated his honesty. “As long as you continue to be truthful, this’ll be quick and you’ll be able to get back to your normal life sooner.”
I wasn’t lying when I told him he’d be able to get back to his normal life sooner. The sooner he confessed to shoving Mrs. Richardson, the sooner I could book him, a bond could be set, and he could be bailed out of jail. If he wasted my time wit
h lies, the interview process would be longer, and it would take longer for him to get back to his normal life.
CHAPTER 32
Logan Pitre’s eyes were naturally squinty, but they were mere slits as he sat on the opposite side of the interview table from Susan and me. His face was flushed and beads of sweat had broken out on his face. All of this, and I hadn’t even asked him one question yet.
“I don’t understand why I’m here,” he said as he watched me fill out the Miranda Rights form on the desk in front of me.
I didn’t respond. I simply continued filling out the form and then began reciting his rights to him. When I asked if he understood, he answered affirmatively. He did the same when I asked if he was willing to talk to me without a lawyer being present. After he had signed the form and Susan had witnessed it, I affixed my signature and slid it to the side.
“Okay, Logan, please go ahead and tell me everything that happened Friday night,” I said, “beginning with when your sleep was disturbed.”
“Um, you mean about seeing Ty in the road?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, but I already told you everything I knew about it.”
I indicated the camera on the wall in the corner. “We’re on the record this time,” I explained. “So, pretend I know absolutely nothing about what you said before.”
He swallowed and began to recount the events of Friday night. It was almost word-for-word what he had told me Sunday evening when I’d first questioned him. I asked some probing questions, but he didn’t change his story and didn’t remember more than he had already relayed.
“Okay, now I’d like you to tell me about Saturday night,” I said casually, “beginning when you were awakened by the noise from next door.”
He opened his mouth, but then quickly clamped it shut. “But that was Friday night,” he said. “The noise woke me up on Friday night. I remember it clearly, because the next morning was Saturday.”
“You already told us about Friday night,” I said dismissively. “I want to know about Saturday night.”
He stared at me with a blank expression on his face.
“Do you not understand the language I’m speaking?” I asked, leaning forward. “Tell me about how you woke up in the middle of the night on Saturday because of the noise that Ty was making.”
He laughed nervously and glanced quickly at Susan. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Don’t look at me,” Susan said curtly. “Look at the man who’s talking to you.”
“Do I need to repeat the question?”
Logan swallowed. “I…I understand what you’re asking me, but I didn’t hear any noise on Saturday night. It was Friday night that I went out to get my phone from my truck. That’s when I heard Ty talking from the middle of the road—”
“You already said all of that.” I waved a hand. “I’m not interested in Friday night anymore. We’re beyond that. I want to know what happened Saturday night.”
“But I told you, I…I didn’t hear anything Saturday night. I got up to use the bathroom—it might’ve been twice—but I didn’t hear anything when I got up.”
He swallowed again, and it seemed to take some effort. I knew his throat was dry. “I, um, I mean, was there noise at his house Saturday night?”
I threw myself back in my chair. “How in the hell would I know? I wasn’t there.”
He jerked at the suddenness of my movements. He licked his lips, but said nothing.
“Logan…” I leaned forward again, allowing my voice to trail off. I stared in silence for a long moment. He shifted his eyes from his hands to the desk to the ceiling to the walls—he wanted to look anywhere but in my eyes. “Tell me about the noise you heard at Ty’s house on Saturday night or early Sunday morning.”
“I…I didn’t hear any noise Saturday night or Sunday morning.”
“Then what were you doing over there?” I asked in exasperation.
He laughed nervously. “Over where?”
I ignored his question. “Are you telling me there was no noise coming from Ty’s property on Saturday night?”
“No, I swear it.”
“So, if Ty was not making any noise, then why in the hell did you go to his house?” I lifted a hand when Logan started to speak. “And the next words out of your mouth had better be the reason you went over there and not some bullshit about how you never left your house Friday night.”
I intentionally threw Friday in there to see if he was paying attention. He was.
“I did leave my house on Friday night,” he said, the panic evident in his voice now. “I went outside to get my cell phone. That’s when I heard the noise from next door. It was Friday night—not Saturday night.”
“Wait,” I said, lifting a hand. “I’m confused. What night did you go over to Ty’s property and break into his shed?”
Logan recoiled in horror. “What? What are you talking about? I never broke into nobody’s shed!”
“Oh, you didn’t break into Ty’s shed?”
“No!”
“So, I guess you were invited inside then.”
“Huh?”
“How many times have you been inside Ty’s shed?” I asked, holding my pen poised over my notebook like I wanted to record his answer.
“I…I’ve never been inside his shed.”
“My bad,” I said with a grunt. “I’ll rephrase the question. How many times have you been inside Ty’s mom’s shed?”
“Never!” Beads of sweat poured down his face. Even his moustache was quivering at this point. “I’ve never even been on their property.”
I let out a long sigh and leaned back in my chair. I shot a sideways glance at Susan. “This man’s worried about losing his job,” I said with a smirk. “What he should be worried about is becoming somebody’s bitch in prison.”
“Prison?” Logan echoed in a shrill voice. “Why would I be worried about going to prison?”
“That’s where we send people who commit murder, Logan.” I leaned forward again. “I’m done playing with you. I’m going to arrest you for murder and you’re going to spend the rest of your miserable life in prison.”
“But I didn’t murder anyone!”
“Well, you’re lying about going in the shed, so I’ve got to believe you’re lying about murdering Mrs. Richardson.”
Logan started to hyperventilate.
“Cut it out,” I said. “I ain’t falling for that foolishness. In fact, get up! You’re going to prison.” I stood and waved for him to get to his feet.
“Please, don’t!” Tears mixed with sweat as he began crying hysterically. He leaned back and lifted his hands. “Please don’t! I’ve never hurt anyone in my life!”
“Then you’d better tell me why you went in that shed,” I said. “If you didn’t go there to kill Mrs. Richardson, then you’d better start talking. I can put you in that shed and I can only think of one reason why you would lie about being there.”
“I swear I didn’t hurt her!” He continued bawling. “She was already on the ground!”
He was crying so much that I barely understood what he said. I glanced at Susan and she nodded.
“Say that again,” I said, walking around the table.
“She was already on the ground when I went in the shed,” he wailed. “She was already dead!”
“And I’m supposed to believe you now?” I asked with a chuckle. “You’ve been lying to me since Sunday, and I’m supposed to believe you suddenly decided to come to Jesus and start telling the truth?”
“I swear on my babies!”
That pissed me off. “Don’t you dare bring those innocent babies into your mess!”
While I had been assertive in my questioning, I had left all emotions out of the process. He heard the change in my tone and sucked in a mouthful of air. He nodded hurriedly.
“I…I’m sorry. I won’t say that again.”
I turned and walked out of the room. When I returned, I had a box of tissues a
nd a bottle of water. I placed both items on the table in front of Logan. I then returned to my chair and took a seat.
“Okay, Logan,” I said calmly. “Dry your eyes and tell me why you went into that shed.”
CHAPTER 33
It took Logan about ten minutes to stop trembling enough to speak coherently. The tears still flowed like open faucets, but he was starting to regain control of his voice.
“I, um, I heard some noise outside my house Saturday night.” He dabbed at his leaky nose. “It woke me up again and—I admit it—I got mad. I have a stressful job. I need my sleep. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been waking up to hear Ty screaming in the neighborhood. Once I’m awake, I start worrying that he might do something crazy—like burn my house down—and I can’t go back to sleep. I toss and turn and then, before I know it, my alarm is going off and it’s time to get dressed for work.”
“And this has been going on for a couple of weeks?” I asked.
“Yeah, thereabouts. I’ve talked to some of the neighbors about it. They hear it, too, but no one wants to call the cops because they all like Mrs. Carol. I finally told my landlord that I’d had enough and that I was going to call the law, but he told me I’d better not. He said if I did that, he’d kick me and my family to the curb. I don’t see how he can do that to us. It’s my peace that’s being disturbed, so how can he threaten me and tell me I don’t have the right to call the cops?”
I only nodded and kept listening.
“I’ve been getting so tired lately that I’ve been messing up at work,” he continued. “I even dozed off in the employee lounge the other day and someone told my boss. He called me in and warned me that the new company is looking for any excuse to fire the current employees so they could bring in new blood. He said the only reason they didn’t fire everyone was because the old owners made the buyers agree to keep everyone who successfully completed the hiring process. I don’t want to lose my job. It’s hard to concentrate when you can’t get enough sleep, and Ty has been making me miserable.”