But Not For Love, page 14
part #9 of Clint Wolf Series
“What was that noise?” Mallory asked from behind me. “It was just to the right of Clint.”
I had been so focused on the glove that I hadn’t heard anything. The beam of light moved away from the glove and scanned the water to my right. I was stretched out in the direction of the glove and in an awkward position, but when I heard Mallory curse, I glanced toward the light.
There, about ten feet away from me, were a set of red eyes glaring in my direction—an alligator! The eyes looked like laser beams and I immediately felt like a target. I didn’t feel any better when I realized there was a distance of about six inches between the eyes and the nostrils, which meant it was about six feet long. So, not only was I in its territory, but it was also taller than me—and my pistol was fifteen feet away on the bank of the bayou.
I turned my attention back toward the lily pad, but couldn’t see the glove because of the darkness. “Baylor, I need some light on the glove.”
“But what if the alligator moves—”
“Just do it,” I interrupted. “We need that glove!”
Forcing myself to ignore the subtle ripples of water to my right, I dug my left foot deeper into the slop and leaned forward until I thought my muscles would rip. Baylor’s light was shaking and I knew he was worried for me, but it lit up the glove enough for me to see it.
“Come on,” I said under my breath, “just another inch.”
The muscles in my left leg ached and I could feel myself slowly tilting off-balance. I could also feel the alligator drawing closer through the water and my sense of self-preservation was screaming at me to address the danger, but I needed the glove.
I knew I needed to shift my weight again to keep from falling forward, but I also knew I didn’t have time, so I muttered, “What the hell,” and went for it.
With a lunge, I reached for the entire lily pad with my left hand and managed to snatch it from the water, glove and all. I stepped clumsily forward with my right leg while shooting my left arm straight into the air above me, trying desperately to maintain my balance while also keeping the glove from getting wet.
My step forward had put me in deeper water and I sank to my chest. I was trying to regain a solid footing with my left foot in order to push myself back toward the shore when the water to my right exploded in action. Screams of warning sounded from the bank behind me. I glanced in the direction of the disturbance and saw the six-foot alligator leaping from the water, its mouth agape and heading straight for my right arm.
CHAPTER 26
115 Lacy Court, Mechant Loup
Susan was banging on the door to Zoe Billiot’s house within minutes of hanging up with Clint, thanks to the fact that Nikia’s ex-wife lived in Mechant Loup. It was almost midnight, but Susan didn’t care. Zoe was either going to verify Nikia’s whereabouts during the murder or not. If she did, they were looking for a ghost of a killer—someone who had struck twice without leaving a trace of their existence behind. If Zoe didn’t support Nikia’s story, then they would have to take a second look at the husband.
Of course, Susan thought, it seems physically impossible for him to have killed Cassandra in the small window of time that was available to him.
“Who’s there?” called a female voice from the other side of the hollow-core door. “It’s almost midnight, for Christ’s sake!”
“Police department,” Susan called firmly. “I need to speak with you, Mrs. Billiot.”
Hearing a feminine voice must’ve relaxed Zoe, because she immediately threw the bolt and pulled the door open. “Chief Wilson, how are you?”
Susan recognized Zoe from seeing her around town, but didn’t know the woman. Before she could respond, Zoe asked if the visit was about Nikia.
“It is,” Susan said.
“I heard about his wife.” Zoe frowned. “It’s such a tragedy. I’m really sorry about what happened, and I know Nikia’s upset over it.”
“How would you know that?”
“I know he loved her, so I know he must be upset.”
“Have you spoken with him since Cassandra’s murder?” Susan studied the woman’s face, but she seemed relaxed.
“No. I tried calling his phone a hundred times, but he never answered. I finally called one of Nikia’s neighbors—I used to work with her at the insurance company—and she told me she saw the police take him away, so I figured he was in jail.” Zoe took a deep breath and held it for a moment before finally exhaling. “I knew the police would be coming to talk to me sooner or later. I guess Nikia told you he was with me this afternoon.”
“Yeah, is that true?”
“It is.”
“So, you admit to cheating with your ex-husband?”
“I didn’t cheat on anyone—I’m single. He’s the one who cheated.” Zoe let out a little grunt. “I don’t owe Cassandra anything. In fact, Nikia was cheating on me with Cassandra when they first met, and that’s the real reason we got divorced. If you ask me, she got what she deserved.”
“You think she deserved to die?”
“No…not at all.” Zoe quickly shook her head and waved a hand. “That’s not how I meant it. I don’t think anyone deserves to die. I’m just saying she deserves to have him cheat on her, because she got him to cheat on me.”
Susan studied the woman standing in front of her, wondering just how vindictive she was. “Am I correct to think the only reason you had an affair with Nikia was to pay Cassandra back for cheating on you with him?”
A smile tugged at the corners of Zoe’s mouth, but she stifled it. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“You do understand you have a pretty strong motive for wanting Cassandra dead, don’t you?” As she posed the question, Susan began testing the theory in her mind, wondering if Zoe had what it took to murder someone. It had been her experience that, given the right circumstances at the right time, anyone could commit murder. When Zoe didn’t respond, Susan continued. “Is there anyone else who can verify your whereabouts during the time Cassandra was murdered?”
“I already told you…I was with Nikia. He can verify where I was.”
“I’ve spent a few hours interviewing Nikia, and he did a lot of talking.” Susan paused, allowing that information to sink in. She needed to test Nikia’s story, and she was going to use Zoe to do it. “Do you remember what time y’all got to Northern Chateau?”
“We didn’t go to Northern Chateau.”
“No?” Susan arched an eyebrow, trying to make Zoe believe she might be contradicting what Nikia had said. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Then where’d y’all go?”
“We had sex in the sugarcane fields on the east side of town,” she said casually. “It didn’t take long—maybe two minutes. Nikia never did have much stamina. Let’s see…then I bought some ice cream from Mechant Groceries and we went to the park to eat it. Afterward, we took a nap under a tree and then I dropped him off along the highway near the woods behind his house. That’s it. That’s everything we did.”
“Did anyone see y’all together?” Susan asked. “I need an independent witness who can put y’all together during the time of the murder. Otherwise, it can be argued that you’re lying for him and he’s lying for you.”
“No, there’s no one who can put us together, as you say.”
“Y’all went to Mechant Groceries, so someone must’ve seen y’all in the store.”
“We never go in there together. Cassandra works there and all of her friends know me and Nikia. If they saw us together, she’d know about it before we made it back to the car.”
Just great, Susan thought, there’s no way we’ll be able to clear them independently, so we may never know for sure—
“What about the park?” Susan pressed. “Was anyone there? Maybe some kids playing on the swings? People using the walking track? Kids skateboarding? Anything?”
“No.” Zoe shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing anyone out there. We’re always very careful not to be seen, you know?”
Susan sighed and was about to ask another question when the radio attached to her belt exploded in action.
“Chief, are you there?” It was Lindsey and her voice was laced with excitement. “Chief, please come in!”
Susan jerked the radio to her mouth. “Go ahead, Lindsey.”
“I just got a report of shots fired along East Main near Camp Street,” she said. “I repeat, shots fired near East Main and Camp.”
CHAPTER 27
Susan gasped when she heard the report over the police radio. Clint and Mallory were working in the area of East Main and Camp.
“I’ve got to go,” she said quickly to Zoe, turning and rushing to her marked vehicle. She had barely fired up the engine when she was putting it in gear and speeding out of the driveway. “Headquarters, do you have any more info?” she called, raising her voice to be heard over her blaring sirens.
“10-4, we got a second call from a subject who says they heard at least twenty shots, maybe more. They described it as a war zone.” Lindsey paused for a brief moment, and then said she had Amy en route also. Amy Cooke was the second-most experienced officer Susan had, with Melvin being her top officer, and Susan was happy to hear Amy was heading to the shooting.
Susan’s heart pounded in her chest and her mind raced. Who was doing the shooting? Was Clint involved? Was he hurt? Had he and Mallory stumbled upon the killer and been ambushed? She knew Clint could take care of himself, but she was also a realist and she was keenly aware that any law enforcement officer could lose his or her life at any moment—without prior notice and without warning.
When Susan turned the corner and got onto Back Street, she could see lights and shadows along the opposite side of Bayou Tail. She was driving so fast it would’ve been dangerous to avert her eyes from the road in front of her, so she wasn’t able to make out any of the figures across the bayou.
“Status, headquarters,” Susan called as she jerked the steering wheel and whisked across the bridge that separated the east side of town from the west side.
“Nothing further, Chief,” Lindsey said. “I’m unable to reach Clint on his radio or cell phone.”
Susan’s heart sank when she lurched to a stop and her headlights illuminated the group. Clint wasn’t among those standing on the shoulder of the road.
“Oh, God,” she cried out loud, tears of panic threatening to spill from her eyes as her thoughts turned to the baby growing in her belly. “What am I going to do without him?” She was out of the driver’s seat in a flash, running at breakneck speed toward the bayou.
“Clint!” she hollered. “Clint, where are you?”
Susan saw Mallory Tuttle turn from where she was looking into the bayou—she had a pistol in her right hand. A quick glance to the right revealed Baylor and Amy standing there with pistols in their hands, as well. A woman and a small boy were huddled together several feet behind Baylor and Amy.
Fear’s icy fingers clutched at her throat when she didn’t see Clint. She wanted to collapse in a heap to the ground and wail, but she forced herself to push on. She’d expected to see a suspect riddled with bullet holes, but there was no such person anywhere around. Her mind raced. Where’s the bad guy? Where in the hell is Clint? And why is everyone staring out into the water?
Susan skidded to a stop when she reached the bank of Bayou Tail. There were boots and a gun belt on the ground. She rested a hand on Mallory’s shoulder for balance, staring wildly out into the water, where Baylor was shining a flashlight. The beam of brilliance was focused on a man with his head down who seemed to be struggling in the mud. When the man looked up, Susan gasped audibly and fell to her knees. It was Clint, and he seemed to be okay.
In Clint’s left hand, which was high in the air, there was a clump of lily pads. His right arm was extended behind him and he was dragging something through the water. Susan tried to make out what it was, but it was too dark.
“I’m coming in,” Susan announced, dropping to her butt and reaching for her left boot.
“No,” Clint said quickly, pausing to catch his breath. “There’s no need for anyone else to get wet.”
Sitting there frozen, both hands on her boot and struggling to breathe—thanks to her swelling belly—she said, “You need to stop doing this to me, Clint Wolf. I nearly had a heart attack. What in the hell happened?”
“He got in a fight with Godzator!” the young boy screamed, his voice shrill with excitement. “He killed it with his bare hands!” The boy pointed toward Mallory and Baylor. “They tried to shoot the detective man for hurting the alligator, but they missed.”
Clint chuckled from the water and resumed his plodding journey toward the shore. When he was directly in front of Susan, he leaned up and kissed her softly on the lips, and then held out the lily pad. Susan saw a latex glove smashed between the crumpled pads.
“There’s a good chance our killer wore this,” he said. “And Cursing Ted over there helped us find it.”
Susan scrambled to her feet and dug a pair of gloves from a pouch at the back of her gun belt. Once she donned them, she gingerly removed the evidence from the lily pad and held onto it.
Clint then dropped the lily pads and used both hands to pull the tail of an alligator toward Baylor’s outstretched hands. Straining with all of his might, Baylor dragged the alligator from the water. Once the ancient lizard was grounded, Susan saw that its left side was riddled with bullet holes.
“It attacked me while I was retrieving the glove,” Clint explained, pausing at the water’s edge before pulling himself up to the bank beside her. “Baylor and Mallory shot the hell out of it right before it clamped down on my arm.”
“It was all over by the time I got here,” Amy complained, shoving her pistol in its holster now that Clint was safely out of the water.
Susan turned her clouded eyes toward Mallory and Baylor, and patted her belly. “His baby thanks y’all.”
“Considering the expression on your face when you drove up,” said Mallory, extending a hand to her friend, “you’re thanking us, too.”
CHAPTER 28
11:13 a.m., Thursday, November 2
Clint and Susan’s Bedroom
I growled like a bear and glanced around—confused, tired, and blinded by the light spilling in through the windows. “What the hell’s going on?”
Susan pushed a hand into my chest, mumbling, “It’s your phone. Tell it to shut up.”
I reached for my cell and then scrubbed my eyes, trying to see the display screen. Everything was blurry. Am I going blind?
The phone rang again and I cursed, unable to see who was calling. “Hello, this is Clint.”
“Hey, Clint, this is Mallory.” The excitement in her voice caused me to sit up in bed. “We’ve got a possible lead.”
“We do?” I was suddenly wide awake. “What is it? There’s no way we got DNA back that fast. Did we get a hit on the fingerprint?”
Last night, after recovering the latex glove from the lily pad, Mallory had gotten with her crime scene technician and he had processed the glove for prints and DNA. After recovering a latent print from inside the middle finger of the glove, he had swabbed the finger holes for DNA. He had also recovered samples of the blood on the outside of the glove. If we could link the DNA and fingerprint on the inside of the glove to a suspect, and then link the blood on the outside of the glove to Cassandra, we would have the suspect-to-victim connection we’d need for a murder conviction.
“No, but I received a call from a detective out of Buckheed County, Georgia named Abel Adams who heard about our case on the news. He claims he knows who our killer is.”
“Really? Who is it?”
Susan popped up in the bed beside me. “What is it?” she asked groggily. “Has there been another murder?”
“No,” I shielded the mouthpiece on my cell. “Mallory might have identified the killer.” I removed my hand from the mouthpiece and asked Mallory who the killer was.
“His name is Walter Garner and he’s a former Buckheed County sheriff’s deputy who’s wanted for murder. He’s been on the run for five years, with nary a sighting in all of that time.”
“Why does this detective think Garner is our guy?”
“He killed a victim of domestic violence who dropped the charges against her husband—”
“Wait, is that the connection?” My mind began to race. Both of our victims had dropped domestic violence charges against their abusive husbands, but I hadn’t even considered that as a common denominator.
“It seems plausible. In addition to the woman, he killed two other people. Afterward, there was an extensive manhunt for him in the mountains—the detective said it lasted about four months—but they weren’t able to find any trace of him. They believe he perished in the back country, because there hasn’t been a single credible sighting of him in five years.”
“Are there any other similarities between our cases and theirs?” I might’ve been half asleep, but my mind was working, and I was wondering if this Walter fellow had stabbed his victim like ours had been stabbed.
“Yeah, he stabbed the woman to death with a weapon he found at the scene.”
I scowled, wondering if it might all be a coincidence. “I thought you said they believe Garner perished, so how could it be him?”
“Detective Abel Adams says his sheriff firmly believes the man died in the wilderness and the search has been officially called off, but Abel still thinks Walter’s out there killing people and he’s been working behind the scenes to catch him.”
“How does his sheriff feel about that?” I asked.
“He doesn’t know, and he made me promise to keep it that way.”
“If our killer is Walter Garner, how’d he go from the mountains of northern Georgia to the swamps of southeastern Louisiana?” I asked, scowling. “What brought him here?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s worth looking into.”
