But Not For Fear

by BJ Bourg

  “Well, she’d better not piss me off, ’cause I’ll go on Nancy Grace tonight and blow the whole lid off of this conspiracy.” She paused, thoughtful. “You know, if this diver thing doesn’t pan out, it’ll scare the shit out of me.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of something nonhuman doing this was very unnerving, so I only nodded and stepped out of the Tahoe. The sun was bright and the wind was blowing hard, as it often did this close to the Gulf of Mexico. I could taste the salt on the air and welcomed it.

  The dive shop was located under a restaurant called Fantasy Slip. I’d been to the restaurant before, but I never knew there was a dive shop beneath it. To the right of the dive shop, there was a bar propped up high on creosote pilings, and farther still to the right was a motel also up on pilings. A long pier began at the parking lot between the bar and the motel and extended westward for quite a distance. Along this pier, there were at least fifty boats tied up. Several rough-looking men strode along the wharf. A few of them glanced in Amy’s direction, and I noticed their glances held.

  “Better tread softly,” I warned under my breath. “She gives new meaning to grabbing a tiger by the tail.”

  “What?” Amy asked over her shoulder as she reached for the door handle.

  “Just talking to myself.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Once we’d stepped through the door, I paused to look around the shop for a second. I’d never been inside a dive shop before, but I was certain I’d just stepped into a diver’s paradise. A large selection of pole spears and spear guns lined a section of the wall. There were tanks, fins, and wetsuits for sale. Some of the wetsuits were camouflaged with ocean patterns. I had never considered such a thing, but it definitely made sense. If you didn’t want to be seen in the water, you’d need to blend into your background. I considered our suspect, and realized he or she wouldn’t need to blend into the background of the lake. The water there was black, so he could’ve worn any color he wanted.

  “Can I help y’all?” asked the woman behind the counter. It was obvious she lived in the sun. Her hair had been bleached by the same sun that had cooked her skin to a deep bronze color. She wore a bright orange tank top that seemed much brighter against her tanned features.

  Amy took the lead on the interview. After identifying us, she asked, “Are you Natalie Conway?”

  “Ever since the day I was born.”

  “We’re looking for someone who might’ve rented scuba diving equipment recently.”

  The woman snorted. “Why don’t I give you a list of who didn’t? It would be much shorter.”

  “What about narrowing it down to only the out-of-towners?”

  “They were all from out of town.”

  Amy nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. I was curious to see what she would come up with. As for me, I wasn’t sure how to tackle this problem. We had nothing but a weak hunch to go on. Even the hunch didn’t offer any possible leads. It was like finding out our suspect’s last name was Boudreaux and that he was from Chateau Parish—nearly everyone would be a suspect.

  Amy finally leaned on the glass counter and lowered her voice. “Look, we’re working a murder case. We think someone’s been lurking under Le Diable Lake in scuba gear and drowning people.”

  The woman’s face brightened and her green eyes sparkled. “Hot damn it, I was right!”

  “Excuse me?” Amy asked.

  “I heard about those drownings on the news yesterday. The reporter was saying they believed a monster was doing this.” She scoffed. “The only kind of water monster that could do such a thing would be an octopus, and we don’t have those around here.”

  “How did you know it wasn’t an alligator?” Amy challenged.

  “They would’ve said it was an alligator,” Natalie said simply. “Alligators do a lot of damage when they bite. I figured if the news was calling it a monster and a mystery, then I figured there were no marks on the body. That’s when I knew it had to be a person wearing scuba gear.”

  “Why would you come up with that?” Amy asked, her curiosity clearly aroused. “Of all things, why would you figure that’s what was happening?”

  “Have you ever been diving?” Natalie asked.

  Amy shook her head.

  “If you ever do and there are people swimming above you, just look up.” She leaned close, her eyes twinkling. “Their feet look like worms just waiting to be grabbed.”

  “Have you ever grabbed a person’s leg and pulled them under?” Amy wanted to know.

  To my surprise, Natalie admitted that she had.

  “Lots of times.” She shrugged. “Friends mostly. I like a good joke, and there’s nothing funnier than swimming up under someone and pulling them under by their feet. It’s every swimmer’s worst nightmare.”

  “Well, drowning isn’t funny,” Amy said testily. “We’ve got two dead victims on our hands and we’ve got no answers.”

  “No, you’re right—drowning isn’t funny.” Natalie lowered her eyes. “I lost three of my dive buddies to drowning.”

  “You can drown in scuba gear?” Amy asked skeptically. “My ex-boyfriend said it was impossible to drown in scuba gear.”

  “Your ex is an idiot.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” Amy conceded.

  “Diving is safer than driving a car, but we lose about 100 divers each year.” Natalie smiled. “If I had to choose a way to go, that’s how it would be. At least my friends died doing what they loved to do. They’d much rather go out with their gear on than in some hospital somewhere of some kind of disease.”

  Amy nodded and was about to ask another question when Natalie interrupted her.

  “Wait a minute—the reporter on the news said there were three drowning victims.”

  “No, there were only two.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s not like the media gets anything right any more these days.”

  “Well, knowing what you know now,” Amy began, “can you think of any divers who might be capable of doing this?”

  “You want me to accuse someone of murder?” Natalie shook her head. “I’m running a business here. I can’t go accusing my customers—who are probably all completely innocent—of anything, much less murder. If I started doing that, I’d surely go out of business. It’s not like things are booming as it is.”

  “I’m not asking you to accuse anyone of anything. I’m just asking you to point me in a direction.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Look, has anyone ever given you the creeps? Anyone ever come through here and you thought they could be a rapist or a murderer? I know you pick up on things. I can tell you’re pretty discerning. I just need to know if anyone’s ever given off some bad vibes recently. And if they mentioned being in Le Diable or Lake Berg, then that would increase the vibe.”

  “Gabe Burke.”

  Amy glanced at me and then back at Natalie. “Gabe Burke? What about him? He gave you a bad vibe or was he in Le Diable recently?”

  “Both.” She glanced toward the front of the store to make sure no one was approaching the door and leaned forward. “Gabe is trouble. Everyone knows it. Do I think he’s a murderer? Hell no, but word gets around, and I heard he’s been making his rounds of the college parties on Le Diable. From what was told to me, he gets in the water in his gear and swims to the boats while the college students are getting drunk—”

  The phone suddenly rang and I almost jumped out of my skin.

  Natalie apologized and took the call. Amy and I traded looks. As for me, my heart was pounding in my chest at this new revelation. I could feel the case starting to come together. When Natalie hung up, she continued.

  “Anyway, I was told he sneaks up on the boats and steals things. Mostly, he looks for loose cash, drugs, cell phones, and jewelry, but I was told he found a gun once.”

  Amy glanced over at me. “Do you remember getting any theft reports from those parties?”

  I shook my head
, shrugging. “You know how it is when you’re drinking. You don’t even realize you’ve lost anything until you put on those same clothes a month later and find a bill in your pocket.”

  “Yeah,” Amy said in agreement. “Also, if they’re from out of town, chances are they won’t even realize they had something missing until they got home. By that time, they wouldn’t even know where to begin to find the right jurisdiction to make a report.”

  “That’s true,” Natalie said.

  “Who told you this information?” Amy asked.

  “I don’t really remember who told me or when it was told to me.” She began drumming her fingers on the glass counter. “It might’ve been in the bar. I think it was a couple of weeks ago. I really don’t pay attention to most of the gossip I hear. I’ve got my own problems, if you know what I mean.”

  Amy nodded. “What about this weekend and earlier this week—do you know if Gabe was in Le Diable then?”

  “I’m not sure where he was, because he’s not allowed in here anymore. I threw him out three months ago and told him not to come back.” She shrugged. “But he’s usually on the water.”

  “Where can we find him when he’s not on the water?”

  “He lives in his boat. He keeps it docked a few miles up the road.” Natalie angled her head to the north. “You’ll pass two large trawl boats docked on the right side of the road, a few houses to the left, and then you’ll see a tiny blue boat about a hundred yards farther. It’s got a small wheelhouse with a white ice box on top of it. The dock is cluttered and the wood is rotting. Be careful that you don’t fall through.”

  “If he’s not there, where else might we find him?”

  “Well, he can’t stay at the motel anymore because he owes them too much money. Most people are tired of his shit and they don’t let him come around. If his boat is docked, he’s home. If it’s not, he’s on the water somewhere—probably stealing. Those are the only two places he might be.”

  We thanked Natalie and walked out into the warm sunshine. A storm was brewing in the Gulf and we were supposed to get rain tomorrow or the next day. Hopefully, it would cool things off a little. I usually loved the summer, but even I was growing a little tired of the smothering heat. I’d like to be able to walk outside to check the mail and not return dripping in sweat.

  “I want one of those spear guns,” Amy said as we walked to my Tahoe.

  “Why?”

  “In case he runs.”

  CHAPTER 23

  When we approached the two trawl boats, I slowed to a crawl and pulled onto the shoulder of Old Blackbird Highway. I wanted to see Gabe before he saw us. I reached onto the back floorboard and retrieved my binoculars. Tilting them so I could look through one of the lenses, I aimed it at Gabe’s boat.

  The boat was facing south, so I was viewing the front end of the vessel. The white ice chest box was strapped to the top of the wheel house just like Natalie had described. The windows to the wheel house were tinted and I couldn’t see inside.

  “If Natalie’s right, he’s inside,” I said idly, still scanning every inch of the boat that I could see from our vantage point.

  Amy got on her cell phone and called Lindsey to run a criminal history check on Gabe. After waiting for a few seconds, she grunted triumphantly. “Thanks, Lindsey,” she said. “You just made my day.”

  “He’s got warrants?” I asked.

  “Two of them—both for contempt of court. The original charge on the first one is shoplifting and the second is disturbing the peace by fighting and resisting arrest.” She leaned into me. “I told you I should’ve gotten the spear gun.”

  “Well, I don’t see him, so we’ll either have to wait until he comes out or just drive up on him. I’ll let you call it.”

  “Drive close to the boat, but stop about a hundred yards away.” Amy grinned and removed her badge and holster. After shoving her badge in the tight pocket of her jeans, she placed her holster on the floorboard and tucked her pistol into the back of her waistband. “I’ll walk up and say I’m having car trouble.”

  “Why don’t I go?”

  She looked me up and down. “He won’t offer to help you.”

  “He won’t offer to help you either,” I countered. “You look too confident. You’ve got cop written all over you.”

  She laughed. “You know that hundred you owe me? Why don’t we make it double or nothing?”

  “You’re on.”

  After getting to within about seventy-five yards of the boat, I shut off the engine and removed my seatbelt. I then watched as Amy dismounted and approached Gabe’s humble abode. She tried to walk as timidly as she could, but it wasn’t working. She could smooth-talk a suspect and play any role during an interrogation, but there was no way she would be able to alter her walk convincingly enough in a matter of seconds. She exuded confidence and that intimidated many men. She often complained about having problems finding a suitable mate.

  I put the binoculars to my eye and scanned the area again. I froze when I saw movement from the stern of the boat. A head had popped up and then disappeared again. A second later, it popped back up and a fellow about twenty-six walked along the starboard side and jumped up on the wharf. He was carrying something in his right hand, but I couldn’t make out what it was. He hadn’t seen Amy yet, but she had seen him.

  I eased my window down and heard Amy issue a greeting. Gabe’s head jerked around in Amy’s direction and he stopped in midstride.

  “Do you have jumper cables?” Amy asked, shooting a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m having car trouble.”

  Amy had slid her hand down to her right thigh and I knew she had also noticed that there was something in Gabe’s hand. I dialed in with the binoculars, but he had the object concealed behind his leg. His eyes were shifty. He licked his lips and said something I couldn’t understand.

  “What about a phone?” Amy called out to him. “I’m not getting service on mine.”

  I directed the binoculars to his right hand, but it was still concealed behind his leg. Amy continued walking forward. I could hear her voice, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying anymore. I didn’t like the looks of things. I was contemplating whether or not I should tell Amy to abort when Gabe’s hand suddenly flashed into view from behind his leg—and he was holding a pistol.

  “Gun!” I fired up the engine, dropped the binoculars, and stomped the accelerator in one swift and simultaneous motion.

  When Gabe’s hand came up, he snapped off two quick shots that sent Amy diving toward the bayou. I couldn’t tell if she had been hit as my Tahoe raced past her. I jerked the steering wheel to the right to put my SUV between the shooter and Amy. The vehicle bounced violently on the rough shoulder of the highway.

  Gabe, who was armed with a semi-automatic pistol, turned his attention toward me and started firing indiscriminately in my direction. I clawed at my pistol with my right hand as I tried to maintain control of the steering wheel with my left. Just as I got my pistol out, bullets spat into the windshield, kicking shards of glass into my face.

  I leaned across the center console and kept my head below the dashboard. My Tahoe hit a hole in the shoulder of the road and I jerked roughly, nearly losing control of the steering wheel. I glanced up just in time to see a telephone pole make contact with the front right corner of the Tahoe. Metal crunched and the side mirror exploded into pieces.

  More gunshots erupted. I’d lost count of how many shots Gabe had fired, but I could tell I was rapidly getting closer to him, because his shots were growing louder. I glanced above the dash again and saw him standing in the road. He had assumed an isosceles shooting position—standing squared-up and holding the pistol straight in front of his body with a two-handed grip—and was tracking my vehicle as it moved forward. If I continued along this path, I would drive harmlessly between him and the bayou, and he could take me out by simply shooting into the driver’s door as I passed by.

  Thinking quickly, I sat up and jerked the steerin
g wheel to the left. I was about ten feet from him and he had nowhere to go. His face filled with horror as he realized what was happening, but it was too late. My front bumper smashed violently into his legs. He didn’t even let out a screech as he shot up on the hood and smashed through the windshield. Blood, flesh, and more glass peppered my face. My eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. I frantically felt for the brake pedal, forcing my eyes open and trying to see where I was going.

  Right before I’d run over Gabe, I could see that I was headed straight for the opposite shoulder of the road, which was lined with trees. I figured I should steer to the right in an attempt to avoid a collision, but just as the thought entered my mind, my Tahoe came to an abrupt stop. My body was propelled forward and I met the airbag from the steering wheel head-on, taking it on the chin like a prize fighter. As for Gabe, he flew off the windshield like he was shot from a cannon.

  When the dust from the airbag cleared and I had stopped coughing, I saw Gabe’s mangled body wrapped around a live oak tree that was about twenty-four inches in diameter.

  “Shit!” I said, reaching aimlessly for the door handle.

  “Clint!” Amy’s voice betrayed the fear she must’ve felt. “Clint!”

  Dazed, I struggled with the door, but it wouldn’t open.

  “Dear God, Clint, I thought you were dead.” Amy’s hair was dripping wet and her clothes clung to her like the fur of a wet muskrat. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled, indicating Gabe with a nod of my head, “but we won’t be getting anything out of him.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Within thirty minutes, the stretch of highway in front of Gabe Burke’s boat was crawling with first responders. A medic had tried to look at the brush burns on my forehead, but I had waved him off and told him to check on Gabe.

  “I already did,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”

  “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, eh?” I said wryly.