“What do you think I’ll do, woman?” He pointed toward the front of the street in exasperation. “I’m basically under house arrest over here, thanks to those damn cops who keep showing up. Hell, I thought you said you called to drop the charges and cancelled the restraining order.”

  “I did, but they said I’d have to come in and fill out the paperwork.”

  “Well, go ahead and do that while you’re getting the chicken.” Nikia scooted off the floor, made his way to the recliner in the corner, and snatched the remote from the coffee table. “I’ll be sitting right here when you get back, watching television.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, walking to the kitchen counter and retrieving the keys to her car. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

  “And don’t forget to drop the charges and cancel that damn restraining order,” he called out before she’d made it to the door. “I don’t want to have to worry that I’ll get jacked from my own bed in the middle of the night or while checking the mail. This is no way to live, and you should’ve thought about what it would do to me before you went off lying to the cops.”

  “I told you I would do it.” Cassandra tried to keep her trembling chin under control. “I’ll drop the damn charges, just be patient.”

  “Do it first, before you do anything else. If you don’t take care of it today, don’t bother coming home.”

  That stung some more. She wondered why she had to love him so much. Why couldn’t she just eject him from her heart? Delete him from her memory? God, she thought, if only it was that easy.

  “Don’t forget my beer!” he hollered just as the door was slamming.

  Half hoping the cop had heard, Cassandra glanced in that direction as she walked to her car. She frowned. He was gone. Her throat tightened and she suddenly realized the presence of the officers had made her feel safe—like a net under a tightrope walker. But her net was gone now, and Nikia could do whatever he wanted to her.

  Tears formed in Cassandra’s eyes as she cranked up the engine on her car and drove away, wondering what she should do. She had spoken with the prosecutor when she’d called the district attorney’s office on Monday. The prosecutor was a nice lady, but Cassandra could tell she didn’t take any crap.

  “You’d better think long and hard about dropping the charges against Nikia,” Prosecutor Britt Lucas had said. “Just two weeks ago a woman dropped the charges against her husband and he murdered her that very night—and I mean brutally murdered her. When you drop charges on an animal like that, they suddenly feel unfettered, as though they can do whatever they want without consequence. Please, I implore you to think long and hard before doing this.”

  Cassandra had remembered hearing about the woman who had been murdered. It was in all of the local papers. She’d felt sorry for the woman when she first heard the story, and she was even a little fearful herself, but then she’d heard that the husband had had a history of brutality. Nikia was nothing like that. Sure, he got riled up sometimes and blacked out because of his anger issues, but he would never go so far as to seriously injure her.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Lucas, but I want to drop the charges and I want the protective order dismissed,” she’d said with more strength than she realized. “I understand what I’m doing and I know this is the right thing for my relationship.”

  Britt had tried hard to change her mind, but Cassandra had remained steadfast in her desire to drop the charges. Now, driving toward the district attorney’s office to fill out the necessary paperwork, she wasn’t so sure of herself anymore. Nikia had already changed back to his old cocky self. For all she knew, he could be screwing his ex-wife at this very moment.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?” she wailed out loud, as tears streamed down her face. “How do I know what’s right?”

  CHAPTER 18

  Two hours later…

  Cassandra Billiot’s heart raced when she pulled into her driveway. The cop car hadn’t returned, and everything seemed deathly quiet. The Halloween decorations were still up in the neighborhood, but that wasn’t unusual. Her neighbors typically waited until after Thanksgiving to take down the Halloween stuff, which was when they would put up the Christmas lights and decorations. Those would usually stay up until February, or so.

  Cassandra never saw the need to decorate. She didn’t have kids, so there was really no point. Nikia didn’t care about holidays, unless he was getting something he wanted. He certainly never took the time to shop for her. Hell, he never even asked what she wanted—not once.

  “Hello?” Cassandra called as she pushed through the door. Everything seemed quiet inside the trailer. “Nikia, are you here?”

  Nothing. Not a peep.

  “This isn’t funny,” Cassandra said nervously. “You know I don’t like to be scared.”

  When there was still no sound from within, she stepped into the kitchen. After putting the one grocery bag on the table and the pack of beer in the refrigerator, she paused and cocked her head to the side, listening. The trailer had never been this quiet before. When Nikia was around, she could always hear his heavy breathing and grunting. If he was in the bathroom, there would be a sound of running water. Any movement would cause the trailer to vibrate and she would at least hear a creaking sound from the thin floors. But there was nothing.

  “I’ve got your beer,” she called out, a look of befuddlement spreading across her face. “Come and get it.”

  Cassandra slowly made her way down the hall and checked the two bedrooms and the bathroom, but they were empty. Nikia had been barefooted when she left, so she made her way to his closet.

  “That little bastard!” Anger surged through her veins when she saw that his sneakers were gone. She hurried back to the kitchen. “I bet he’s messing around with that ex-bitch of his.”

  Pulling her phone from her purse, she dialed Nikia’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She called it again, and it again went straight to voicemail.

  “You think you’re slick, don’t you?” Without hesitating, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Zoe’s number. She had saved it that night when she’d gone through Nikia’s calls, and she’d been right to think it would come in handy some day. She just hadn’t imagined that day would come so soon.

  “Where the hell is my husband?” Cassandra asked when Zoe answered the call. She had dialed *67 before making the call so Nikia couldn’t warn Zoe that it was her. “I want to talk to Nikia right this second!”

  There was an audible sigh on the other end of the phone. “When will you stop torturing yourself?” Zoe’s voice sounded lazy. “I divorced Nikia so I wouldn’t have to put up with his foolishness anymore. Do you really think I’d be desperate enough to go down that worn and lonely path again?”

  “Actually, I do think you’re that desperate and despicable. In case he didn’t tell you, I read the birthday message you sent him, so I know y’all have been sending messages back and forth.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting more like his mother than his wife. It’s no wonder he ran away from home.”

  “Damn it, Zoe, put him on the phone.”

  “Aren’t you tired of doing this? Tired of trying to tie him down? Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want you. You’re not enough for him, and you know it. While you’re content to stay home and knit—or whatever the hell it is you do to pass your miserable life—he’d rather be out in the clubs like the rest of us, living life to the fullest.”

  “So, you admit he’s with you.” Cassandra’s shoulders drooped. “Can I at least talk to him? Please.”

  “God, woman, get a life.” Zoe huffed on the other end of the phone. “No, he’s not with me. I haven’t seen him and I don’t want to.”

  “But you just said all that stuff about the club, so how would you know all that if you haven’t—”

  “I was married to him, too, or did you already forget?” Zoe was silent for a few long seconds and then sighed. “Look, Cassandra, I’m really sorry about texting him the birthday wishes. I was just bored and in between boyfriends. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.”

  She sounded sincere, but Cassandra knew better. “If you were only bored and didn’t mean anything by it, why’d you send him nude pictures of yourself?”

  “I did no such thing!”

  Cassandra laughed when she heard the reaction from Zoe, and she knew she had the upper hand now. “Really? Then you won’t care if I post them all over social media. Let’s see, there’s the one with you pushing your boobs together—”

  “That’s not even me. You’re a crazy person and you need to be committed!”

  “You’re right, it’s not you…it’s some other woman with a tattoo of a Z across her middle finger.” Cassandra stood a little straighter. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to bring Nikia back home. If he’s not here by then, I’m sending those photographs to your mom, dad, brothers, and sister. Hell, I’ll even send it to your priest.”

  “You little—”

  “Twenty minutes, Zoe,” Cassandra said, interrupting her. “Not a minute longer, do you hear?”

  Without waiting for a response, Cassandra ended the call and threw her phone to the table. As she stood there in the empty trailer, the anger that had built up in her chest slowly started to fade and a deep sense of pain began to flood over her. Her eyes burned and tears began to form. She felt weak.

  Reaching for a nearby chair, she began to lower herself onto it when a noise from the back of the trailer brought her fully alert. It sounded like the back knob was jingling.

  Nikia! she thought. He’s trying to sneak back into the house!

  Cassandra jumped to her feet and rushed forward. While she was still angry at him, she was relieved he was finally home. Now that he was here, she could give him whatever he wanted, and maybe then she would win him over. If she showed him that she could be fun too, that she was willing to visit night clubs and dance the night away, then maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to stray.

  When she reached the door, she quickly unlocked it and pushed it open. “Nikia, I’m so glad you’re—”

  She stopped in her tracks when she saw someone standing at the bottom of the metal steps wearing a clown mask. Nikia knew she hated clowns and he tortured her with the disgusting masks every Halloween. He had put on that same mask last night and hid in the shower, scaring the crap out of her when she went in the bathroom to pee. She had ripped the mask from his face and thrown it out the back door, but it looked like he’d found it.

  “Damn it, Nikia, you know how much that terrifies me! I threw that mask away for a reason and I don’t want it back in the house.”

  When Nikia didn’t respond, she cocked her head to the side and tried to see his eyes. Thanks to a strip of netting across the openings, she wasn’t able to see anything. She scowled as she glanced down at the coveralls he was wearing. She’d never seen those before. His right hand was hidden behind his back, but she could see he was wearing a latex glove over his left hand.

  “What’s going on?” she asked nervously. “Say something, Nikia—you’re scaring me.”

  Nikia cocked his head to the side to mirror hers and moved up onto the bottom step. He was breathing heavy and Cassandra wondered what was wrong with him. Was he angry that she had called Zoe? Was he going to hit her again? And what was with the glove?

  She shuddered and studied the build of the clown, trying to gauge his height from where she stood. It was hard to tell for sure, because he was two steps below her, but he seemed to be the right height.

  “I swear, Nikia, I’m going to scream and that cop’s going to come down here and arrest you.” She shoved her fists against her hips. “And I know you were with that bitch, so you’re lucky I haven’t already called the detectives to have you arrested for violating the restraining order.”

  Without saying a word, the clown quickly ascended the steps and pulled a hand from behind his back. In a fleeting moment, Cassandra caught sight of sunlight glinting on steel, but her reactions were too slow. The dull tip of a long screwdriver popped the outer surface of her stomach and pushed through to the organs that lay beneath. She gasped in shock and pain, but before she could open her mouth to protest, the clown jerked the screwdriver out of her stomach and stabbed her again, this time high on her chest.

  Cassandra was confused, terrified, as her body was shoved inside and pushed backward down the hall. She stumbled, but the clown’s strong hands held her up and didn’t let her go until they reached the living room, where he dropped her to the floor. She lay there fighting for air and writhing in pain. The clown walked calmly away and pulled the back door shut. When he returned, he mounted her and continued his violent attack.

  CHAPTER 19

  4:30 p.m.

  Mechant Loup Police Department

  I had spent the last ten minutes on the phone with a news reporter avoiding questions about the release of Jake Boudreaux.

  “Detective Wolf, are you at all bothered that a man who murdered his wife has been released from jail and is now free to kill again?” asked the reporter, who sounded like a young man. “What would you say to the victim’s family? Don’t you think they’ve been victimized enough? And do you think the district attorney’s office made a mistake?”

  “I don’t comment on active investigations,” I’d said, trying to brush them off, “but I will say that I support the prosecutor’s decision. And now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Are you saying this investigation is still ongoing?” There was excitement in his voice. “Do you expect more arrests soon? Does this mean you’ve arrested the wrong person initially?”

  “I’ll have to refer you to the Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office, as they’re the primary agency handling the case. It would not be prudent for me to comment on their investigation.”

  “We’ve left numerous messages for Detective Mallory Tuttle and Sheriff Buck Turner, but they’ve yet to return our calls.”

  “Then that’s your answer.” I’d hung up the phone and told Susan I was taking another ride out to Cassandra Billiot’s home.

  “Not without me.” She’d hurried toward the bathroom and called over her shoulder, “I bet I’m out in less than a boxing round.”

  A professional boxing round is three minutes, and it was now going on two minutes and thirty-five seconds and she still wasn’t out of the bathroom. I was about to tell Lindsey that Susan had lost the bet when I heard the door being pushed roughly open.

  Susan rounded the corner and stomped into the dispatcher’s station, her face twisted into a deep scowl. She made a show of trying to shove a thumb into the front of her waistline, but couldn’t.

  “My uniform pants are already getting too tight,” she complained. “I’m going to be a balloon!”

  Lindsey and I laughed.

  “How far along are you?” Lindsey asked. “Eleven weeks?”

  “A little more than twelve.” Susan shifted her gun belt around her waist, trying to find a sweet spot.

  “You’re beautiful.” I walked over and squeezed her shoulder, resisting the urge to hug her. Although we were married, we avoided outward displays of affection while we were in the office.

  Susan’s face burned a little and she waved off the compliment, glancing toward Lindsey. “I pay him to follow me around and say things like that.”

  Lindsey laughed again, but I kept a straight face.

  “She does.” I turned and walked outside, with Susan on my heels.

  “Do you think Cassandra will let us search her house this time?” Susan asked when we were in my Tahoe and heading out of the driveway.

  “Probably not.”

  Susan was quiet as we crossed the bridge and entered the east side of town, but then twisted in her seat, thoughtful. “Why do you think women keep going back to the men who hurt them? A low self-esteem? Is it financial? Because of the kids? Could it possibly be for love?”

  “Who knows anymore?” I sighed. “I certainly never thought Allie would go back to Jake, especially when she had her own job and Sammy was doing so well. Cassandra doesn’t have any children and she’s got a good job, so I guess it must be love for her.”

  Susan grunted. “I don’t care how much I love you…if you ever abused me, it would be over.”

  I glanced sideways at her. “Over? Do you mean the relationship, or my life?”

  “Both.” Her face softened and she smiled warmly. “But that’ll never happen. If I thought for a second you were that kind of man, I would’ve never married you.”

  “Yeah, well, any man who knows you would know better than to lift a hand in your direction—they wouldn’t get it back.” Cassandra’s car was parked in front of the trailer, so I pulled onto the shoulder of the street and shifted the car in park. “Keep your eyes peeled. For all we know, Nikia’s inside and he’s dangerous.”

  Susan nodded and stepped out of the Tahoe, pointed toward the rear of the trailer. “I’ll cover the back.”

  I hesitated, wondering if it was safe for her to be out here.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, as though reading my thoughts. “If I confront Nikia, I’ll keep him off of me with a push kick and then drop him with my right if I have to.”

  I knew she would, so I didn’t bother telling her to be careful. Instead, I headed for the front door and banged loudly on it. I waited for a long thirty seconds, but there was no movement or sound from within. I knocked again—this time harder—and again waited. Nothing.

  Knowing I couldn’t make my way inside without being invited, I tested the doorknob. It was locked. Back in the day, when I was a rookie patrol cop, I’d heard old timers talk about how they would handle a situation such as this.

  “I would go to the front door of the house,” my old lieutenant would say, “and I’d send my partner to the back door. I’d then knock really loud on the door and wait. If no one answered, my partner would holler, “Come in!” from the back yard, and I would push my way inside.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22