by BJ Bourg
“Did you hear that he had been scuba diving around boats in the lake and stealing things?” I asked.
“I heard that garbage,” she said with a scoff. “He used to dive, back before he got hooked on pain pills, but he hasn’t been able to dive in years. He would drown if he’d try diving in his condition. He’s always loaded when I talk to him.” She paused and frowned. “Well, he was always loaded. I guess he’s gone now.”
I didn’t acknowledge her last comment. “Was he loaded the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, yeah—he was loaded every time I’ve spoken to him.”
“Have you ever seen him with anyone? Did he have any friends or girlfriends or anyone else who would hang out with him?”
“He would stop along the highway and talk to people who live along this area, just like he’d do with me, but he didn’t really have any friends. Not that I know about, anyway. He used to date a girl back before his accident, but they broke up after he started abusing her.”
“Do you think he’s a violent person?”
She took a breath and studied me for a long moment. “Had you asked me that question last week, I would’ve said no.”
“What changed?”
“Well, I saw the news story where he shot at you and Officer Amy Cooke yesterday. In fact, I heard the gunshots and the crash that followed. Although I find it hard to believe, I do know that’s how it happened. It just seems out of character for him.” She frowned and shook her head. “I can’t help but think someone put him up to it. I’m sure you see it every day in your profession, where people manipulate those who are suffering from mental illness and compel them to do things they would never do on their own.”
“You think someone was feeding him that bit about the angels of death?”
“I have to believe so. I could be wrong. He could’ve read something in the Bible and misinterpreted it, but I’m more inclined to believe it was fed to him.”
“But by whom?”
She shook her head. “That’s one thing I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know that he had any friends.”
I turned and looked toward the highway and beyond, wondering at the ease of setting up someone like Gabe Burke. He was starving for attention, so it would be easy to strike up a conversation and follow him onto his boat. As a pill addict, he probably spent most of his time sleeping, and that would give the suspect ample opportunity to drive his boat out onto the lake and use it as a base from which to operate. The suspect could simply stash the stolen items onto the boat, along with his scuba gear, and then spread a rumor that Gabe was doing the stealing. Once the murders were committed, we would begin asking questions, and we would learn that he had been stealing from boats. That would lead us right to his boat. If Gabe had been given the stolen pistol and then programmed to believe the angels of death were coming to get him, he would naturally attack us when we showed up to question him. The suspect would know we’d respond with force, and the case would be closed with Gabe’s death.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, walking briskly toward my truck. As I did so, I got on the phone and called Amy. “Are you still in La Mort?”
“I didn’t even get to the lab yet,” she said. “What’s up?”
“When we go live with the story, Susan needs to tell the public that Gabe has been cleared as a suspect.”
“Why?”
“Someone set Gabe up to look like our murderer. If the real suspects think we believe that bullshit, they won’t strike again.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed. “If they drown another person after Gabe has been killed, then they’re essentially telling the world he didn’t do it.”
“Right. We need to let it be known that Gabe has been cleared of all wrongdoing, and we need to let them know that their scheme isn’t working—that people aren’t afraid to go back on the water. That might prompt them to attempt another drowning.”
I reached my truck and got in, continuing my conversation with Amy. I drove to the next house and parked.
“Do you really think Phillip is capable of setting up his own son to take the fall for his crimes?” Amy asked. “Do you think a man would do that to his own son?”
“I’ve seen people do all kinds of evil things to those they were supposed to love and protect.” I hesitated before leaving my truck, remembering the evidence we had found in Gabe’s boat. “But you know what? There’s no way Phillip could fit into that wetsuit we found, so I guess we can rule him out as the actual murderer. But it’s still possible he’s directing the hits.”
“Well, I’m about to pull up to the lab. I’ll head right back when I’m done.”
I stepped out of my truck. It was too late now, but I wished I would’ve known that Phillip was getting out of jail, because I might’ve been able to set up surveillance on him. If the murders were being orchestrated by Phillip, he would probably meet with the killer in person now that we had recovered Gabe’s phone.
Not wanting to dwell on those aspects of the case that I couldn’t control, I set about to finish my canvass.
CHAPTER 38
Susan stood with Pauline Cain behind the cameraman and watched as he prepared to film Laura Cavanaugh at the boat launch.
“I’ll walk this way,” Laura was saying, indicating a path from the tree under which she stood to the area where Regan was preparing to launch her kayak into the water, “and I want you to stay tight on me while I talk about the case. When I reach Regan, zoom out enough to capture both of us and her kayak. After I interview her, I’ll bring the mayor and chief of police in and conduct a quick interview with them.”
The cameraman nodded and, after a brief moment, they began filming.
“Do you think this’ll work?” Pauline asked Susan, keeping her voice low.
“I sure hope so,” Susan said with a sigh.
Clint had called her earlier in the morning after completing his canvass and said he wanted to put this plan into motion. She had met him at the town hall and they’d run the plan by the mayor. To Susan’s surprise—or dismay—Pauline had agreed to go along with it.
“If it’ll bring this asshole out into the open and help shut down this hysteria,” she had said, “then I’m all for it.”
“I don’t know,” Susan had said, “it’s a bit risky.”
Clint had agreed, but said Regan assured him that she was as much at home in the water as she was on dry land.
“And she’ll be equipped with this rescue tank that’ll keep her alive underwater for at least an hour,” he had said. “Besides, Melvin and I will be nearby. We’ll deploy before the press briefing and be in place long before she makes it to Le Diable. I’ve also spoken with Sheriff Turner, and he’ll have a helicopter and some divers standing by.”
Susan had finally agreed to go along with the plan, but she still didn’t like it. As she watched it unfold before her eyes, she became increasingly apprehensive. She had just hired Regan a month ago and didn’t want to put her in jeopardy.
“I asked for this,” Regan assured her earlier when she had tried to talk her new officer out of going through with the plan. “In fact, it was my idea. Just ask Clint if you don’t believe me.”
She hadn’t needed to ask Clint. She knew Regan was telling the truth.
“If something happens to Regan, I’ll never forgive myself for going along with this,” Susan said to Pauline, leaning into her so as not to be caught on the microphone.
“Neither will I,” Pauline said. “Neither will I.”
Susan didn’t know if she meant she would never forgive Susan or herself, but she didn’t ask for a clarification because Regan was speaking now.
“I refuse to give in to fear,” she said, adjusting the strap on her backpack. “Nothing will keep me from the beautiful waters of Le Diable Lake. It’s public land and I’m the public, so I intend to exercise my rights to it.”
“How would you respond to officials who might say it’s irresponsible of you to willingly put yourself in ha
rm’s way? And what are your thoughts on the closure of the lake?”
“We put ourselves in harm’s way every time we get in our cars,” Regan retorted. “There have been only two drowning deaths in Le Diable Lake in a week—two!—and they want to close the lake. More than two people have died on the highways of Louisiana in the short time we’ve been standing here talking, but you don’t see the government trying to shut down the roads. I’m going to Le Diable Lake and no one’s stopping me.”
“Sources have told me that there may be a creature—some kind of swamp monster—pulling people into the water,” Laura pressed. “Does that not concern you?”
“There are no such things as monsters.” Regan stared right into the camera, her blue eyes accentuated by the white sunscreen smeared across her face. “And if there is a monster out there, I dare it to come and get me. I’m not afraid. Fear is for the weak.”
Laura thanked Regan and turned to face the camera. As she talked, she began making her way toward Susan and Pauline.
“I’m here with Mayor Pauline Cain and Police Chief Susan Wolf,” Laura said when she reached them. “Mayor, do you have an official position on Mrs. Steed’s voyage?”
“Officially, I don’t interfere in the lives of the citizens I serve. As long as they aren’t infringing upon the freedoms of their fellow citizens, they can do whatever they want as far as I’m concerned.” She took a deep breath and exhaled painfully. “Now, on a personal level, I wish she wouldn’t go. It’s not safe on the water right now.”
“Is it true that you’re contemplating closing the lakes until this creature is captured?”
“I’m considering no such thing. It’s very distressing and extremely unfortunate that two people have drowned. We’ve been in close contact with the families of our victims and we’re working hard to resolve these cases.” She took a breath. “However, we’re moving forward with life—it’s what our victims would want us to do.”
“Do you have a message for anyone who might be watching?”
“Mechant Loup is open for business.”
Laura nodded and turned toward Susan.
“Chief, my sources tell me that the man who fired shots at your officers and was ultimately killed was the same man responsible for the deaths of the two victims out on the lake. Can you confirm or deny this information?”
“It’s my policy not to comment on ongoing investigations,” Susan said. “Having said that, I can say this, Gabe Burke is in no way involved in the homicides that occurred out on the lake. He was a troubled young man, but he is completely innocent of this accusation.”
“Do you have any words for Mrs. Steed, our young kayaker?”
“I applaud her for being fearless,” Susan said simply. “However, she’ll be on her own out there. Our officers are busy with several ongoing investigations, so we’re spread kind of thin at the moment.”
“Are you saying you’re okay with her decision to go out on the water alone, while something dangerous is lurking out there?”
“Terrorists thrive on fear. The lack of fear renders them impotent.” Susan indicated Regan in the distance. “If I didn’t have to work, I’d go with her.”
Laura turned and signed off. When the live shooting was done, she turned to Susan and Pauline. “You guys were very convincing.”
Susan frowned. “I’m still not sure about all of this. It’s just too dangerous. Clint and Melvin won’t be close enough to Regan to rescue her if she gets in trouble.”
Laura turned and watched as Regan tied her kayak to the back of the aluminum hull flatboat she would be driving to Le Diable Lake. “I don’t know…it looks like she can take care of herself. I don’t think she needs rescuing from anyone.”
CHAPTER 39
It was about noon-thirty when Takecia drove my personal boat into the pass that led to Le Diable Lake. Melvin and I were hunkered down on the floor of the hull under some empty oyster sacks. Melvin was on one side and I was on the other.
“I am approaching the spot,” Takecia said in a low voice, just in case we were under observation. “I am about to drive into the trees.”
The words had barely left her mouth when I heard branches scratching against the sides and top of my boat. I could even feel some of them brushing against the sacks that covered me. The engine roared and the boat shook in the water.
“Okay, time to get out,” Takecia called.
I tossed the oyster sacks off of my back and snatched up my rucksack. Melvin was one step ahead of me. He pushed through the thick branches that surrounded us and jumped onto the shore. I followed suit and we hurried into the thick woodlands of the eastern shore of Le Diable Lake. The motor on my boat roared again as Takecia reversed direction and then sped off, heading back to the boat launch.
Melvin and I pushed our way north through the swamps, heading for the spot where the college kids had previously set up their parties. It was at this very spot that Regan would camp out for a day or two. Hopefully, we would get lucky and our suspect would reveal himself. The plan was for Melvin and me to take turns watching over her from the shadows of the trees. If we worked in shifts, we would be able to keep her under constant surveillance. We had NVGs for when it got dark and binoculars for when she would venture out in her kayak during the daytime.
“This is a risky operation,” Melvin said when we finally reached a point in the trees where we could see the shore where the parties had taken place.
“I know,” I admitted, “but how else are we supposed to lure this bastard out into the open?”
He scowled and rubbed his shaved head. “What if he’s done killing?”
I considered that, and didn’t like it. “If he’s done killing and people start using this area again without incident, then it means it wasn’t about the land. If it’s not about the land, then what in the hell is it about?”
“That’s your department,” he said with a smile. “You’re the homicide detective.”
I only grunted and began setting up a hide in the trees. I had picked out a location from which I could see the camping spot we’d chosen for Regan and the water beyond. I had shown her a map of the area and we’d set parameters for her movements so we could always have her in our sights.
Melvin was busy setting up a spot to my right. We were still working when I heard the distant humming of Regan’s flatboat cutting across the lake. As time drew on, the sound of the motor grew louder and she was soon pulling up to the bank.
“What shift do you want?” I asked Melvin.
“I was originally scheduled to work nights today,” he said with a shrug, “so I can take the night shift.”
I nodded and settled in to watch. Melvin crawled into the sleeping spot he had prepared within a patch of palmettos and was soon sound asleep. I made myself as comfortable as possible and watched as Regan tied the bow line from her aluminum hull to a stout tree. She then pulled her kayak onto the land and set about making camp.
I pulled out my SAT phone and sent a message to Susan to let her know we were in place. She responded, begging me to keep a close eye on Regan and to be careful. I told her I would.
I used my binoculars to scan as much of the lake as I could see, knowing Regan would waste no time jumping in her kayak and taking to the water. I was right. Within a few minutes of setting up her tent, she was gliding across the lake.
She appeared to be a natural on the water. The muscles in her arms rippled as she worked the paddle and sent her kayak slicing smoothly across the lake. She stayed within the boundaries we had delineated during our briefing earlier this morning, and I was able to maintain a constant visual on her.
I continued watching as the sun slid to the west. At one point, it was directly in my eyes and I had to move to a different position in order to keep Regan in sight. I was in awe at how relaxed she seemed. It genuinely appeared as though she were simply enjoying a day on the water, with not a care in the world.
While she seemed at ease, I was far from it—especially
when she decided at one point to stand abruptly in the kayak and then dive into the lake. I had jumped to my feet and stared breathlessly, praying she would resurface. She did and shook out her long brown hair, a large smile on her porcelain face.
I sighed heavily and settled down, grumbling under my breath. After she swam around for a while, she attacked the kayak from the rear and deftly mounted it while it was still in the water. That move impressed me, because I had always had trouble climbing onto a kayak from the water.
Regan paddled around until the shadows started growing long. She then returned to shore and popped open a potted meat can. She pulled a knife from where it had been hidden in her shorts and began scooping the mushy meat from the can with the stiletto blade. I smiled to myself as I watched her eat from the blue can. It brought back memories of my childhood. Anytime a hurricane blew through southeast Louisiana it was almost guaranteed that the power would go out, so the adults would stock up on bread, water, and potted meat. It was the only time I’d ever eaten the stuff, and it now brought back fond memories of huddling around in the dark, telling stories.
It was right about then that I heard just the slightest movement, and turned to see Melvin stirring from his resting spot.
“Anything?” he asked in a low whisper that barely made it to my ears.
“Nothing but a heart attack.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I pointed toward where Regan was leaning against a log eating. “She decided to go for a swim at one point,” I explained. “I nearly jumped out of my skin.”
Melvin grinned widely. “I like her. She ain’t afraid of shit.”
I only grunted and chewed on a piece of beef jerky while preparing my sleeping spot. Since nothing had happened during the day, I was worried something would happen in the middle of the night. I wanted to get some sleep while it was still somewhat light out, so I could be awake during the middle of the night.
I let Melvin know I was going to sleep and covered my face with my shirt.