But Not For Love, page 9
part #9 of Clint Wolf Series
Libby nodded as her fingers danced across the keyboard attached to the surveillance system. “Okay, here’s the twelfth,” she mumbled, pausing to wait for the footage to display across the quad-screen. When the front entrance to the store came into view, she maneuvered the dial until the time was near seven o’clock. “And here’s seven o’clock.”
I waited and watched as a few customers went in and out of the establishment. At seven-o-eight, a man appeared in the camera and it was obvious he was Jake Boudreaux. I expelled a lungful of air and it was only then that I realized I’d been holding my breath.
“So, he was there at around seven,” I said.
“Is that him?” Libby asked, pointing to Jake.
“Yeah,” Mallory said, “that’s him.”
She sounded disappointed, and I couldn’t blame her. If Jake wasn’t our killer, then that meant we had arrested the wrong person and we’d have more work to do.
We all watched as Jake spoke with the employee behind the counter. The employee punched at the keyboard and then disappeared in the back of the store. When he reappeared, he was carrying a box that looked big enough to contain a radiator. True to Jake’s word, the video showed him pulling out a wallet and handing over some cash. He then took the radiator, walked out the door, and stopped momentarily to toss the receipt in the plastic garbage can near the door.
“Why would he throw away the receipt?” Mallory asked. “What if he has to return the radiator?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Libby said idly, her fingers continuing to glide across the keyboard. A black screen with green text appeared on the monitor and she pointed to an entry. “We keep a record of every transaction and it’s filed under the customer’s name, telephone number, and address, so it doesn’t matter if they pay with a card or cash.”
Libby printed out the receipt and it served to confirm what we’d already seen on the monitor. Upon Mallory’s request, Libby burned the footage to a disc and handed it over. Mallory filled out a chain of custody, she and Libby signed it, and then Mallory and I walked outside.
Mallory sighed heavily as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, and I knew what she was thinking. Jake’s clothes were pristine in the video, so there was no way he’d killed Allie before going to the Watering Hole and the Auto Zone. Allie had been dead for over six hours when we found her, which meant she was already dead when Jake purchased the radiator, so he couldn’t have killed her afterward either. That could only mean one thing—someone else killed Allie.
“Perry Goldsmith was right.” She stopped at the very edge of the curb and balanced there. “There’s no way Jake killed Allie…unless he killed her, changed his clothes, came out here to buy the radiator, returned home, put his murder clothes back on, and then ran into the sugarcane field.”
“If Jake’s telling the truth, he also went to the bar for a couple of hours and then changed the radiator.”
Mallory pushed a tuft of brown hair out of her face. “Well, when I searched the car, I did find some greasy fingerprints on the hood and an old radiator in the trunk.”
“Well, there’s only one thing left to do, and if that checks out, they’ll have to release Jake from jail.”
Mallory dropped from the curb and frowned. “That’s a hard pill to swallow, Clint. I don’t mind admitting I made a mistake, but I hate that I put an innocent man in jail. This has never happened to me before.”
“You weren’t alone.” I pounded my chest with a fist. “I was right there with you. All of the evidence pointed directly to him and he refused to give a statement, so we didn’t have much of a choice. Can you imagine the backlash if we would not have arrested him?”
“You’re right, and I know it, but I just feel bad.”
We both stood there in silence for a few moments, watching traffic zip by on the highway. Finally, I asked if she was ready to go to the Watering Hole.
“Yeah,” she said, “I can use a drink right about now.”
My mouth watered. I’d never had a problem with alcohol until my daughter and first wife had lost their lives. I had begun drinking in order to sleep and to dull the pain I felt, and I soon became dependent upon it. However, with Susan’s help, I had defeated the addiction and hadn’t touched a drink in a long time. Hell, I hadn’t even been tempted to have a drink, even when others were drinking all around me. But that all changed recently when I’d shot that young girl. Now, I was suddenly afraid to walk into the Watering Hole. I was worried it would tempt me too much and that I would stop at a store afterward and buy a bottle of vodka.
“Hey, Sue, it’s me,” I said when I was alone in my Tahoe and was able to call her. “I need to hear your voice. I need you to remind me what’s important.”
CHAPTER 16
4:45 p.m.
Chateau Parish District Attorney’s Office
“Are you sure he’s innocent?” Britt Lucas asked of Mallory, who had just informed representatives from the DA’s office what we had learned. Britt lifted a lab report from the case file on the desk in front of her and waved it in the air. “Jake Boudreaux’s DNA and fingerprints are on the murder weapon, and there’s not a shred of evidence that anyone else was in that room—or anywhere in the house.”
“I understand,” Mallory said patiently, “but video surveillance doesn’t lie. We pulled footage from the Watering Hole and the Auto Zone that proves he was elsewhere at the time his wife was murdered.”
“He could’ve hired someone to kill Allie,” Natasha Lee offered. “Other than Jake, who has the motive to want her dead? Other than Jake, who else would know how to find her out there in the sticks? Hell, we didn’t even know where they were living. They’ve been off the grid since they got back together.”
Britt nodded in agreement and raised her hands, asking Mallory, “What about it? Did you check into whether or not he hired someone to kill Allie?”
I liked that Britt and Natasha cared deeply about Allie, and I had a strong appreciation for their level of concern. Even after Mallory and I had lain out the entire case for them, Britt was adamant about Jake not being released from jail. I couldn’t say I blamed her, because it would be her name on the line if something went wrong and Jake hurt someone else.
“While it is possible Jake hired someone to kill his wife,”
Mallory said, “there isn’t a shred of evidence that this is the case. In the days following his arrest, I conducted a forensic dump of his cell phone and pored over every file that was extracted. If he communicated with someone about killing his wife, he certainly didn’t use that phone.” Mallory paused, as though contemplating how far to go. When she spoke again, her voice was strong. “What I do know for sure is that Jake was not present when his wife was killed. I made a mistake when I arrested him, and, for that, I’m sorry. I know I can’t tell you how to do your job, just like you can’t tell me how to do mine, but I’m convinced an innocent man is currently behind bars.”
“And what happens if he kills again, Mallory?” There was passion in Britt’s voice and her tone was accusatory. “Do you want that on your conscience?”
Mallory’s eyes turned to slits as she stared across the desk at Britt. I thought an argument would ensue, but she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When she spoke, her voice was calm. “We’re all on the same side here. If Jake didn’t do it—and I believe the video tapes are irrefutable—then Clint and I need to get back to work and find out who did.”
“Do you have any other leads?” Britt twirled a piece of blonde hair around her right index finger as she spoke. “Anything at all?”
Mallory shook her head. “We’ve got nothing, which is why we’ve got to get back to work. Look, I know it’s scary to let him go, but the evidence is clear.”
“Why would he grab the knife and run?” Britt wanted to know. “If he was innocent, why not wait for the police to arrive and tell them what he found? Running might’ve made him look guilty, but taking the murder weapon away from the scene seals his fate in my book. That’s the actions of a guilty man, if you ask me.”
“If he was guilty, he would’ve tossed the weapon,” Mallory countered, “but that’s a moot point because he wasn’t there when she was killed—it’s impossible for him to have been at the house when Allie was killed. Since he wasn’t there, he couldn’t have killed her.”
Britt was silent for a long moment as she stared down at the pictures from the scene. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet with the judge this afternoon and ask for a court appearance so we can—”
“Please tell me you’re not considering this!” Natasha’s voice was almost shrill. “The man’s a murderer! He killed his wife!”
“They’re right,” Britt said in resignation, “it can’t be him. The surveillance tape doesn’t lie.
Natasha sank back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her chest. A deep frown played along the corners of her mouth and I knew she wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy either, and there was a tinge of doubt deep inside my gut. What if Jake had hired someone to kill Allie? If so, it meant we were advocating for a murderer to go free, and that would be hard to stomach.
“Look, I don’t like it any more than you do,” Mallory said, addressing Natasha directly, “which is why I’m going to assign a team of detectives to tail Jake Boudreaux twenty-four/seven from the very moment he’s released from jail.”
Britt looked up. “That’s a great idea. You could do that?”
“I think we have to do it—at least until we catch the actual killer.” Mallory sighed. “Look, I know this isn’t easy for you, Britt. It’s not easy for any of us. We all have to make sure we make the right decisions all of the time, or life and liberty could be at risk. You asked me how I would feel if he killed again. I’d feel horrible, probably responsible, but I’d feel equally horrible if an innocent man spends his life in prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”
“Yeah, it’s a fine line,” Britt said in agreement. “One misstep and it could cost someone dearly.”
Mallory turned to me. “Are you ready? I’ve got to pull Halloween duty tonight in my neighborhood.”
I nodded. I’d forgotten all about Halloween. I shook hands with Natasha and Britt and followed Mallory outside, where traffic was starting to thicken as families readied themselves for the Halloween festivities that were set to take place in a few hours. I knew I would be needed in town, so I told Mallory I’d check in with her tomorrow.
While driving south toward Mechant Loup, I called Susan. There had been concern in her voice when we hung up earlier as I was arriving at the Watering Hole. She knew how difficult it had been for me to abstain from drinking alcohol and she knew how easy it was to slip up.
As it turned out, there had been no need for worry. Several people were drinking in the bar when Mallory and I entered, but the temptation wasn’t as strong as I’d thought it would be. Memories of those hazy nights and the splitting headaches the next morning were still very vivid in my mind. Although I felt bad about the shooting even now, I had been reminding myself it had been justified and, thanks to my decisive actions, I would be around to take care of our unborn baby. More than anything else, being there for my child was all the incentive I needed to make sure I always survived every encounter. It was now my duty as a father to stay alive—and to remain in good health.
“Hey, how are you?” Susan asked when she answered the phone. “How’d it go at the bar?”
I explained how the owner of the Watering Hole and two of his employees had put Jake in the bar from around four o’clock on the day of the murder to almost seven. “And his clothes were clean, so he couldn’t have killed Allie before visiting the place.”
After a long pause, Susan asked, “What about you?”
“I’m actually fine.” I slowed to a stop as a car was making a left turn ahead of me. Mallory had passed the car a few miles back and was no longer in view. “It helps having you there to remind me of what’s important. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope you never have to find out.”
I found myself worrying again about Susan giving birth, and I realized life had been so much easier when I was single—not nearly as fulfilling, but definitely less stressful. When I was alone, I didn’t have a care in the world and I worried about nothing. Now that I was married and we had a child on the way, I couldn’t seem to go a moment without worrying. I worried about everything from car crashes to gun fights to measles.
Although I didn’t want to admit it out loud, it felt good to care again. I hadn’t felt this way since Michele and Abigail were alive. It was exciting and scary all at the same time.
After hanging up with Susan—she had to brief her officers on the town’s Halloween events—I became lost in my thoughts, and I was reminded of the song “Love Hurts” by Nazaruth.
“Not only does it hurt,” I said wryly, glancing at my hair in the rearview mirror, “but it also makes you look older and grayer.”
CHAPTER 17
12:56 p.m., Wednesday, November 1
Cassandra Billiot’s Home
“Is that cop still out there?” Nikia Billiot asked from where he was squatting near one of the back windows in the living room. He had crawled across the floor like a ninja and had tried to peek through a crack in the aluminum foil that coated the windows. “I can’t see anything from here.”
Cassandra grabbed a frying pan from the stove and walked toward the front door.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nikia asked before she twisted the knob. “Give me a warning before you open the damn thing.”
“No one can see you.” She opened the door and made a show of throwing the grease out into the front yard. As she did so, she allowed her eyes to scan the area up the street. A marked police car was still backed into the driveway of the old abandoned house, but it wasn’t the same cop. “The cop car is still there, but it’s a different cop inside. This one looks like a guy.”
“Damn it!” Nikia plopped to his butt on the floor and straightened his legs in front of him. “I want a drink, but I can’t leave with them hanging around out there. This has to be unconstitutional!”
Detective Clint and Chief Susan had come by two hours ago asking to search the house, but Cassandra had refused to give them permission. They said it was in the interest of safety and they said they were worried about her, but she told them she had rights and they needed to leave. Clint had accused her of lying about knowing where Nikia was, but she had told him to prove it. She felt guilty about lying, especially since Clint had always been nice when dealing with her, but she didn’t want Nikia going back to jail.
Once Susan and Clint had left, Nikia crawled out from under the bed and told her she’d done a good job. For the first time in a long time she felt like he needed her—like she mattered. It also felt like she had the upper hand, and it felt good. Nikia wasn’t calling out to his bitch of an ex-wife for help. No, he was relying on her. He needed her.
“Hey, baby, want to go to the store and get me some beer?” Nikia asked. “It’s obvious those cops won’t leave us alone, so maybe you can slip out and get me something to drink? Pretty please?”
Cassandra pursed her lips, savoring the moment. “Say that again.”
“What…that the cops won’t leave us alone?” he asked.
“No, the other part—the part where you begged me.”
He smiled. “Pretty please with two cherries on top.”
“I love the way you say that.” She was beaming as she remembered how great things had been when they first met. What had happened to make him turn mean? Why did some people change over time while others remained the same? Her mother and father had been on fire and in love from nearly the moment they met, and that flame had burned bright for over thirty years—until her mom died one cold January night. Why couldn’t she and Nikia be like that? She frowned. “Nikia, do you think we can ever get back to the way things used to be?”
“What are you talking about?” Nikia scowled. “Stop trying to be all deep and shit. Just go get me a six-pack before I die of thirst.”
Although she’d thought she had the upper hand, she realized Nikia didn’t share her sentiment. What would it take for him to view her as an equal, and not his property to push around as he pleased?
“How do you ask?” Her voice held more confidence than she felt, and she suddenly wondered if he would come across the room and slap the disobedience right out of her.
“What did you say?” His eyes turned to mere slits.
“I’m being playful.” She swallowed hard. “I thought it would be okay to role-play a little.”
He grunted. “Then why don’t you role-play your ass to the store and get me some beer?”
That stung. She wondered if he would feel so cocky if she stepped outside and summoned the cop over to the house. She was tempted to pose the question to him, but she was afraid he would get to her before the cop could make it to the house and save her. Besides, there was no guarantee the cop would even notice her waving from that distance.
“Also, go to the Popeye’s up in Central Chateau and pick up some fried chicken and mashed potatoes,” Nikia continued. “I’m starving.”
“But that’ll take nearly an hour.” Cassandra eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he would try and find a way to see his ex-wife while she was gone. There was a rugged path behind the house that cut through the woods to the highway, and she’d recently learned that he had used it on more than one occasion to sneak off and see the bitch. It would be a good way to avoid the cop out front—
“Why are you staring at me like that?” he wanted to know. “You look like you want to come across the room and slap me, and it’s starting to piss me off. I’d caution you to think real hard about your next move.”
“What’ll you do while I’m gone?” Cassandra’s voice was shaky. “Will you still be here when I get back?”
