by BJ Bourg
“Huh, not bad,” I said aloud. Other than a couple of scratches that added character to the frame, it seemed operable. I cleared off my desktop and broke it down, examining each part carefully. Everything was fine. I had always loved my Beretta pistol, but I now respected the hell out of its toughness.
After reassembling it, I shoved it in my waistband. I was just standing to leave when Amy strode into my office. There was that stomp of determination in her walk, so I knew I wasn’t going anywhere for a while and sank back to my chair.
“What’s up?”
“I just got the lab reports back from the evidence we submitted in Zeke’s case.”
I held out a hand, but she ignored it and plopped to the chair opposite me, keeping the reports.
“Zeke McKenzie could not be excluded as a major contributor to the blood on the shovel and the flashlight,” she read, squinting over the report. “Jimmy Smith could not be excluded as a major contributor to DNA swabs taken from the shovel. The DNA swabs from the flashlight were inconclusive. Winona Munday could not be excluded as a major contributor to the DNA swabs taken from the revolver found in Bud Walker’s holster. So, we can link the shovel to Jimmy and Zeke, thus proving Jimmy killed Zeke. We can also link Winona to the handgun that killed Rebecca and Bud. We know Winona killed Bud, but Jimmy killed Rebecca.”
I nodded. “What about the ballistics report? Does it confirm Winona’s statement?”
“Yep, they were able to confirm that the gun in Bud’s holster fired the bullet that killed him. It also fired the bullets that killed Rebecca.” Amy glanced up and mean-mugged me. “By the way, I’m still pissed that I didn’t get to go to Utah.”
“You can go next time.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands behind my head. “I’m getting too old to make those long road trips anyway.”
“Shut up.” She blew a tuft of blonde hair out of her eyes and turned back to the lab report. “You just turned forty, and that’s not old anymore. They say it’s the new teen or something.”
“Stop aging me,” I said, laughing. “I won’t be forty for four more years.”
“Then stop saying you’re old.”
“What else do you have?”
“That’s about it.” She tossed the report on my desk. “The rest is pretty cut and dry.”
She was right. In addition to what we already had, Leah had faxed me the firearms qualification records from the armored car company for Bud and Winona. As part of weapons qualification, the company recorded the serial numbers of each employee’s weapon on their re-qualification sheet. When Leah had compared the serial number on Winona’s re-qual sheet to the serial number on the revolver we found in Bud’s holster, they matched.
Likewise, the serial number on Bud’s re-qual sheet matched the serial number on the revolver Leah had snatched from Winona’s hand on the night Winona was arrested. Since Winona had started working in the warehouse after the heist, she never qualified with her weapon again and no one noticed the discrepancy.
Earlier last week, the Windrift Police Department had held a press conference exonerating Bud Walker of all wrongdoing and had issued a public apology. Several of the national news channels had covered the press conference and I’d been able to watch it from home. Leah told me they had also met privately with Bud’s family and apologized to them, as well.
“They were very gracious,” Leah had said when she called to tell me. “We didn’t deserve for them to be so nice about it.”
She might’ve been right, but there were truly good people in the world who understood that not everything or everyone is perfect.
“I guess it’s on to the next case,” Amy said, standing to leave. As I stood with her, she asked if I’d heard from Red.
“Not since I made the notification.” Red’s demeanor had been extremely intense as I told him about what we’d learned in Utah. When I’d gotten to the part about Jimmy being kicked off the cliff by Leah, he had lunged forward and wrapped me in a giant bear hug, vowing to somehow repay her for avenging his son’s murder.
I indicated Amy with a nod of my head. “What about you?”
“Yeah, I saw him earlier,” she said. “He’s still in pain, but I can tell he’s not as angry anymore. He told me to tell you how thankful he was for your work. He said he was glad Jimmy Smith was dead.”
I only nodded as I followed Amy down the hall and out into the afternoon sun.
Susan was in the gym trying to teach Grace to throw a push kick when I got home. They both turned to look when my shadow darkened the doorway, and Grace screeched when she saw me.
“Daddy!” She shot like a bullet toward the door, but as fast as her little legs were pumping, they were no match for Achilles and Coco, who reached me seconds before she did.
I scooped Grace up in my right arm while rubbing my dogs with my left hand. They licked aggressively at my hand, each trying to outdo the other.
Susan, who was dripping sweat, removed her punch mitts and began removing the wraps from her hands. I kissed her sweaty mouth and Grace screeched again.
“Oh-oh! Daddy kissing Mommy!”
“I was thinking we should go out to dinner tonight,” Susan said, tickling Grace’s stomach. “What about you, Pumpkin? Do you want to go eat out?”
“I want McDonalds!” Grace said, her red curls bouncing as she shook her head up and down. “I want French fries!”
Susan and I laughed.
“You can have French fries,” Susan said, “but it won’t be from McDonalds.”
I followed Susan inside so we could change and I told her about the crime lab reports as we walked. When I was done, she told me that Gretchen had stopped by earlier.
“What’d she say?” I asked, anxious to know if there was something wrong with Achilles.
“She took Achilles to the back of the property, then they left in her truck and were gone for an hour or so.” She shrugged. “When she brought him back, she said he was very healthy and very well-mannered.” She turned and tickled Grace, taking her from my arms. “Unlike your Daddy—huh, Pumpkin?”
I scoffed and pounded my chest with a fist. “I’m very healthy, too.”
“That’s not the part I was talking about.”
I only grunted. I was hungry and ready for a night out with my family. If there was one thing that murder cases did for me, it was that it deepened my appreciation for time spent with my family. Time was short. No one was guaranteed another breath, and I vowed to spend as much of it as I could with Susan and Grace.
“Maybe we can have a conversation after dinner,” I mumbled casually as I ambled past Susan. “A long conversation.”
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NOVELS BY BJ BOURG
Clint Wolf Mysteries
But Not Forgotten
But Not Forgiven
But Not Forsaken
But Not Forever
But Not For Naught
But Not Forbidden
But Not Forlorn
But Not Formidable
But Not For Love
But Not Forborne
But Not Forewarned
But Not Foreboding
But Not Forespoken
But Not For Blood
But Not Foreknown
But Not Fortuitous
But Not For Fear (Coming soon!)
Magnolia Parish Mysteries
Hollow Crib
Hollow Bond
London Carter Mysteries
James 516
Proving Grounds
Silent Trigger
Bullet Drop
Elevation
Blood Rise
About the Author
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BJ Bourg is an award-winning mystery writer and former professional boxer who hails from the swamps of Louisiana. Dubbed the "real deal" by other mystery writers, he has spent his entire adult life solving crimes as a patrol cop, detective sergeant, and chief investigator for a district attorney's offi
ce. Not only does he know his way around crime scenes, interrogations, and courtrooms, but he also served as a police sniper commander (earning the title of "Top Shooter" at an FBI sniper school) and a police academy instructor.
Bourg’s debut novel, JAMES 516, won the 2016 EPIC eBook Award for Best Mystery, and BUT NOT FORGOTTEN was a finalist for the same award in 2017. Dozens of his articles and stories have been published in national magazines such as Woman's World, Boys' Life, and Writer's Digest. He is a regular contributor to two of the nation's leading law enforcement magazines, Law and Order and Tactical Response, and he has taught at conferences for law enforcement officers, tactical police officers, and writers. Above all else, he is a father and husband, and the highlight of his life is spending time with his beautiful wife and wonderful children.
https://www.bjbourg.com