But Not For Love, page 12
part #9 of Clint Wolf Series
“He did, but we were here before he arrived.”
“How’d that happen?”
As I explained what took place, there was commotion in the background and I knew she was gathering up her gear and heading out of her office. Within seconds, I heard her car engine fire up and she immediately flipped on her siren.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” It took thirty on a normal day, but I knew she would be hauling ass.
“Just get here in one piece,” I said. “I’m going to need some help on this one. It’s getting complicated.”
CHAPTER 22
5:39 p.m.
Mechant Loup Police Department
Susan paused outside of Interview Room #1 and hitched up her gun belt. She’d been forced to loosen her belt by one loop this morning to make her breathing a bit easier, and she was starting to think she might have to loosen another one before the day was over.
She frowned when she pushed through the door to the interview room and saw Nikia sitting on the floor. His face was buried in his knees and he was still crying.
“Do you need more time, Mr. Billiot?” Susan asked. “I can come back in a few minutes.”
Nikia took a quivering breath and shook his head. He scrubbed at his face with his palms and pulled himself into the nearest chair. “I’m ready to talk.”
Susan took the seat opposite him and placed her notebook on the desk. Clint had fed her some questions he needed answered and she wanted to get to those as soon as possible, but she also wanted to take it easy on Nikia. She knew he had been deeply traumatized by what he had seen and, if he was truly innocent, she didn’t want to make it worse.
“If you’re ready, can you begin by telling me what happened from the time Clint and I left the trailer earlier today, and continue up until we saw you coming out of the woods?”
Nikia sniffled and nodded. When he looked up, his face was red and his eyes bloodshot.
“I was there when y’all came by earlier today,” he admitted. “I know I wasn’t supposed to be, but she invited me over. I loved her and I missed her, so I wanted to be with her. Look, I made some mistakes, and I know that now. I have an anger problem and I can get mean when I’m drinking, but I do love her.”
Nikia stopped and pulled the front of his shirt up to wipe his nose. He took a breath and blew it out forcefully. “I had asked Cassandra to get me some beer. She was going to Northern Chateau anyway to drop the charges on me and cancel the restraining order, so I asked for some beer and some chicken. After she was gone…”
His voice trailed off and Susan sat patiently, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. After a full minute of silence, he started talking again, but his voice was so low she was having a hard time hearing him.
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I called Zoe and told her I wanted to see my boys.”
“Zoe—is that your ex-wife?” Susan interjected.
“Yes ma’am. We have two sons together and the only way she’ll let me see them is if I’m nice to her, so I’ve been keeping up with her for some time now.” He dabbed at his eyes with his shirt. “That’s what Cassandra and I were fighting about when I was arrested. I promised her I’d stop talking to Zoe, but that would mean I couldn’t see my boys again, and I can’t live without seeing my kids.
“Anyway, I told Zoe to meet me along the back highway. I checked to see if the cop was still parked down the street and he wasn’t, so I snuck out the back door and made my way through the cut in the woods. I had to wait about ten minutes, but Zoe finally showed up and we went to see my kids.”
“What time did you meet up with her?”
“I guess it was about one-thirty.”
“How old are your boys?”
“Ten and twelve.”
“Do they attend school?” Susan asked slowly, studying Nikia’s expression.
He nodded, and realization spread across his face.
“What time do they get out of class?”
“I see what you’re doing.” He sat straighter. “Okay, look, they weren’t out of school yet, but Zoe wanted to spend some time with me alone before we went to see them. I know it was wrong and I…I wish Cassandra was here so I could apologize to her.”
“Basically, you met with your ex-wife so y’all could hook-up, isn’t that correct?” Susan fought to keep her tone nonjudgmental. “It wasn’t about seeing your boys, was it?”
Nikia hung his head and shook it in despair. “I’m a weak man, Chief, a very weak man. I just can’t help myself. I have a disease. When Zoe called me to meet up with her, I just couldn’t resist her. It was as though she put me in a trance and snatched me up in her web. I didn’t want to go—”
“Let me stop you, right there,” Susan said. “Cassandra’s dead—murdered—and we don’t know who did it, so you need to stop hemming and hawing and start telling the truth. I want the cold, hard truth, do you understand?”
Frowning, Nikia nodded without saying a word.
“If you wanted to hook up with your ex-wife, just say so and get on with your statement. I don’t want to hear how it’s a disease or she’s a spider or some other nonsense. Just give it to me straight, for the sake of Cassandra.”
“Alright, I did want to see her. We’ve been messing around for some time now and we usually get together when Cassandra goes to work.” Nikia’s shoulders drooped low. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done. I just—”
“I know…you’re weak.” Susan waved him off. “We’re past that. I need you to tell me where y’all went and what y’all did.”
“We parked in the sugarcane fields off of Cypress Highway and had sex. We were there for about ten minutes and then she wanted to get some ice cream, so we went to Mechant Groceries and she bought a tub of chocolate ice cream and two spoons. We then went to the park and sat on a picnic bench and ate. She wanted to cuddle, so after eating the ice cream, she got a blanket from her trunk and we stretched out under a tree. We fell asleep and that’s why I was late getting home.” Nikia took a deep breath and waved a hand. “That’s when I walked through the cut and met up with you and Detective Clint.”
Susan glanced at the notes from Clint, particularly the one about the screwdriver. “When you saw Cassandra on the floor in the living room, did you notice something sticking out of her chest?”
“Yeah, it was one of my screwdrivers.”
“Was it part of the set of screwdrivers that was on the picnic table?”
Nikia nodded his head. “It was actually in the toolbox. I know that for sure, because I used it yesterday morning to unlock the bathroom door.”
“Why’d you unlock the bathroom door?”
“Cassandra had locked herself inside and…” Nikia stopped talking and looked up at Susan. Sighing heavily, he said they had been arguing and he was trying to talk to her. “She locked herself in the bathroom, so I pried the door open with the screwdriver. But nothing happened. We didn’t fight or anything.”
“Did you eventually put the screwdriver back in the toolbox?”
He nodded.
“What about the clothes Cassandra was wearing?” Susan asked. “Was it the same clothes she was wearing when she left for the store?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Okay, now I need you to think about the next question very carefully before you answer it, and I need you to be completely honest.” Susan paused, watched as Nikia sat there nodding. “Did you stab Cassandra with that screwdriver?”
Nikia jerked his head upward and shook it violently. “No! I would never hurt Cassandra!”
Susan lifted an eyebrow. “Other than what you did to her in town on the twelfth?”
Nikia’s face was red with anger and it looked like he wanted to lunge across the desk. Susan shifted slightly in her chair and planted her right foot firmly on the floor, ready to push off and punch him in the jaw if it became necessary. While he was distraught and not thinking clearly, he was aware enough to notice her movements and he quickly relaxed.
“That…that wasn’t me,” he said in an apologetic tone. “That was the alcohol acting. I didn’t have anything to drink today, so I know I didn’t touch Cassandra.”
Susan detested men who beat their wives and then later blamed it on alcohol, but she knew chiding him wouldn’t be productive.
“I guess I don’t need to ask if the lab will find your prints on the screwdriver,” she said, “considering you used it to break into the bathroom.”
“Well, it’s my screwdriver, so of course my fingerprints are on it, but it doesn’t mean I killed my wife. I swear to God, she was fine when she left and I didn’t see her again until…” Nikia’s voice trailed off as he became choked up again. It took several minutes for him to calm down. “Seeing her like that…it was so horrible. It looked like she was scared. I…do you think she suffered?”
Susan looked into his begging eyes and frowned. She didn’t want to tell him the truth, but she also didn’t want to lie, so she said nothing. Her silence gave away the answer and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.
“If I would’ve been home with her instead of out screwing around,” he wailed, “she would be alive right now!”
You’re absolutely right, Susan thought, but, instead, said, “If you didn’t kill your wife, then this is not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what some crazy person did.”
“I didn’t do it, but it is my fault! I wasn’t there for her. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her, but I failed miserably! I failed as a man and I failed as a husband!”
“Well, you might be able to help make it right,” Susan said after Nikia had returned to his seat and buried his face in his hands.
“What’s that?” he mumbled, not even bothering to lift his head.
“In addition to contact information for your ex-wife so I can verify your story, I’ll also need the names of everyone who’s had recent contact with Cassandra—friends, family members, enemies, work associates, and anyone else who might know anything about her murder.”
“I…I don’t know about friends and enemies. She’s got some friends at work, I guess, but I don’t really know them, and I don’t know who would want her dead.” His body was trembling and large droplets of tears were splashing to the floor. He clutched at his chest. “Oh, God, my chest hurts so bad! I can hardly breathe. I think I need an ambulance.”
Susan frowned as she stared down at the grieving man in front of her. As hard as she tried, she didn’t feel an iota of sympathy for him. He might not have killed his wife, but he had beaten her before, and that wasn’t love. Her thoughts and prayers were with Cassandra and Cassandra’s family, and—although she knew it was a huge leap—her biggest wish was that the woman had died quickly.
CHAPTER 23
The Home of Nikia and Cassandra Billiot
I was just tying one end of the crime scene tape to a neighbor’s mailbox when I saw Baylor’s cruiser approaching. He bounced out of his cruiser and joined me.
“My shift is over, so I’m free if you need some help,” the young officer said.
I welcomed the offer and he helped me finish roping off the area. I expanded the scene outward to include the entire Billiot property, a large strip of Camp Street, and the wooded area behind the house. Once we were done securing the area, I asked him to drive around to Cypress Highway to locate where the faint trail came out through the woods.
“When you find it, can you stand guard over it until Mallory and I conduct a thorough search of the area?” I asked. “I don’t know if the killer used the path to gain access to the house, but Nikia did, and we want to make sure he didn’t have anything to do with Cassandra’s murder.”
Nodding, Baylor hurried to his cruiser and drove off, seemingly excited to be a part of the investigation. He had barely left when I saw Mallory turning down the street. I was already in my Tahoe typing up the search warrant by the time she walked up and leaned into the window on my passenger side.
“Does this case really look connected to Allie’s murder?”
I stopped typing and turned toward her. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a blue baseball cap. Her brown eyes were sad.
“It very well could be,” I said. “In addition to what I’ve already told you, it looks like the murder weapon was one of opportunity—like the knife at Allie’s house—and she was stabbed dozens of times, just like Allie.”
“Are we going to find the husband’s fingerprints on the screwdriver?”
“Most likely.” I turned back to the computer to finalize the affidavit while Mallory climbed into the passenger seat and sat there waiting. Once I’d finished and faxed it to the duty judge, I placed the laptop on the dashboard. “I certainly don’t want to jump the gun and make the same mistake we did with Jake.”
Mallory nodded and we made small talk until I received the email alert that contained the signed search warrant and affidavit.
“Let’s get this done,” I said, not relishing what we had to do. While I loved my job, I certainly didn’t like having to process a murder scene—especially when it was someone I knew—because it usually meant an innocent person’s life had been snuffed out for no good reason.
After donning Tyvek suits and booties, Mallory and I entered the trailer and began processing the scene. Based on the preliminary evidence we found, it appeared the attack had begun at the back door and then progressed down the hallway. Everything ended in the living room, where Cassandra had succumbed to her stab wounds. While there were dozens of stab wounds, the disheartening news was that at least eighteen of them had been inflicted before she died, which meant she had suffered greatly in her final seconds on earth.
Before examining the body more closely, we processed the rest of the house. Other than finding pry marks on the door to the bathroom, there were no other signs of forced entry or damage, and the only signs of a struggle were in the living room. A quick call to Susan explained the pry marks on the bathroom door.
“Apparently, Nikia pried the door open yesterday morning to get at Cassandra,” I said to Mallory after ending the call with Susan. “It seems they were fighting and she tried to barricade herself in the bathroom.”
“That doesn’t bode well for him.”
I didn’t say anything as we moved to the kitchen and began searching that area. We located a box of cold fried chicken and mashed potatoes, a container of warm coleslaw, and a case of beer on the table.
“Nikia told Susan he had asked Cassandra to bring back fried chicken and beer, and I guess she honored his wish.” I located a receipt on the table and noted that it was for the beer. I handed it to Mallory. “It’s dated today and the time stamp shows two minutes after three o’clock.”
“She bought it in Central Chateau,” Mallory observed. “If this was the last stop she made, it would put her getting home around three-thirty.”
I frowned as I realized how close we’d been to catching the killer in the act. I was about to start photographing the kitchen when my cell phone rang. I wanted to ignore it, but figured it might be Susan.
Pulling the glove from my right hand, I answered.
“Detective Wolf?” The voice was familiar. “Hey, this is Britt Lucas from the DA’s office.”
“Yes ma’am, it’s Clint. What can I do for you?”
“I’m probably just being paranoid, but I’ve been trying to call Cassandra Billiot all afternoon and she hasn’t been answering her phone.” Britt paused to take a breath. “I just heard that a woman was found dead in her home and…well, I’m praying to God it isn’t her.”
“I hate to have to tell you this, but it is.”
“Oh, God, no!” Britt was quiet for so long that I thought she’d hung up on me.
“Ms. Lucas…are you there?”
“Please, call me Britt.” Her voice was low and sad. “She came in to meet with me earlier today, but I was in court and Natasha was off, so I told our investigator, Rory Carney, to have Cassandra wait. She was gone by the time I got back to the office.”
“What time did Cassandra get there?”
“Hold on, let me check my messages.” There was some brief rustling in the background. “It was about two o’clock. I was in pre-trials until three, but Rory told me she only stayed for about fifteen minutes.”
“Do you know why she was there?”
“Yeah, she told Rory she wanted to drop the charges against her husband and cancel the restraining order. I was not going to honor her wishes, but I never had the chance to meet with her.” After another moment of silence, Britt asked if we had a suspect in custody.
I hesitated, not knowing where we were headed with the investigation. “Susan’s interrogating Nikia Billiot at the police department and Mallory and I are still processing the scene. The evidence is pointing toward Nikia, but…”
“But what?” she asked when I didn’t continue.
“This case is eerily similar to Allie Boudreaux’s case.”
“Do you think they’re connected?”
“We’re not sure, but something weird is going on around here.”
“Well, I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up more of your time. Can you let me know what you find out?”
“Sure.” I ended the call and turned back to the task at hand, updating Mallory as we worked. Once we had finished documenting the kitchen and living room, we moved toward Cassandra’s body.
“Damn, this poor lady suffered something awful,” Mallory said after we’d turned Cassandra’s body over and checked for livor mortis, which is the pooling of blood after death. Several of the stab wounds had pierced through and through her body, leaving tiny chips in the cheap floor tile. Each chip in the floor was consistent with the tip of a flathead screwdriver.
“I think we’re dealing with a sadistic killer who’s also very savvy,” I said as I changed gloves and prepared to photograph the wounds to Cassandra’s back. The stage of lividity that was present, as well as the state of rigor mortis, was consistent with the victim having been killed about four hours ago. It was now seven forty-five, so that would put her time of death around three forty-five. “And I don’t think Nikia is our guy.”
