But Not Forspent, page 22
Amy nodded slowly, but then cocked her head to the side. “What else is on your mind?”
“That’s about it.”
“Nah,” she said with a shake of her head. “Something else is troubling you.”
“Well, maybe.” I sighed. “So, we know that the Thibodeaux brothers are big men, and they’re all accounted for.”
Amy nodded.
“The man who pursued me through the woods was tough as all hell and was a wiry fellow, as was the man who killed Cindy.” I shook my head slowly. “They haven’t found him yet.”
“Maybe he’s dead.”
I scowled. Somehow, I didn’t think I would be so lucky. If he was out there still, then he posed a real threat to all of us. I said as much and picked up my phone to call Susan. She didn’t answer and I figured she was busy, so I left a message reminding her know to be on the look-out for the fourth suspect.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I want to be there when Regan arrives with Marty.”
CHAPTER 57
I was just pulling out of the shell parking lot of the boat launch when I saw Sam Beard strolling across his yard. He was heading straight for us. He had changed out of his church clothes and now wore faded bib overalls.
I buzzed my window down as Sam reached the driver’s door of my Tahoe.
“Did you find everything you needed?” he asked.
“Apparently, they didn’t launch here,” I said. “They were found at a camp west of Le Diable Lake. It looks like they came from somewhere else.”
He nodded and stroked his long beard. “Look, one of my buddies down the street told me he saw something strange this morning, before the sun came up.”
I nodded, waiting.
“His dog was barking, so—as he usually does—he snuck out the back door with his pistol and conducted a security sweep of his house.” Sam took a breath before continuing. “Everything was in order. Usually, he’ll see a cat or some other critter that would explain his dog barking, but he didn’t see anything this morning. He decided to walk out to the street and that’s when he saw a man walking along the bayou side.”
I was in a hurry, but nodded patiently. “Was the man doing anything suspicious?”
“That’s all he said, but he mentioned wanting to talk to someone about it.” Sam reached into a pocket on the bib of his overalls and removed his cell phone. His finger stumbled across the screen for a minute and then he handed me the phone. “His name’s Charlie.”
I put the phone to my ear in time to hear Charlie say, “What’s up, you horny bastard?”
“Hey, this is Clint Wolf with the Mechant Police Department,” I said quickly, hoping to cut him off before he said something I really didn’t want to hear. “I’m borrowing Sam’s phone to ask you about the man you saw this morning.”
Thunderous laughter sounded from the other side of the line.
“Sam always gets fidgety when I use swear words around him,” he bellowed. “It’s about his religion or something. I like to do it to mess with him. But, yeah, I saw this man sneaking around on the streets this morning.”
“What time was it?” I asked.
“Jeez, it must’ve been around three or four—definitely before the sun came up.”
“Did you see where he came from?”
“Well, it looked like he just materialized out of the thin air,” Charlie explained. “And he disappeared the same way. I hollered out to him—I had my pistol in my hand in case he tried something—but he didn’t even turn around. He acted like he didn’t hear me. I hollered even louder, but he kept walking calmly away. When he reached the end of Bayou Tale Lane, he turned left on Jezebel.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was tall and thin,” Charlie said. “He had this cocky walk about him—like he didn’t give a shit about nothing or no one.”
“Do you have a security system or cameras on your house?” I asked, thinking I might forward the complaint to one of the deputies covering the town for our patrol officers.
“Nope,” he said smugly. “I’ve got my dog and my forty-four magnum. That’s all I need.”
“What about your immediate neighbors?”
“Nah, they ain’t got no security cameras neither. Sam’s about the only one on the street that has them.”
“Did you see his face at all?” I asked. “Like, when he stepped in front of a streetlight?”
“Nope. He avoided the street lights. He stayed in the shadows like he was hiding from something.”
I thanked Charlie for the information and was about to tell him I’d send a patrol officer to his house to make a report when he stopped me.
“Oh, and you know what?” he said. “He looked like someone who had just come out of the wilderness and he appeared to be hurt.”
“Come again?” I could feel my ears perk up. Apparently, even Amy and Sam noticed, because their faces turned curious as they studied me.
“Yeah, he favored one of his arms,” Charlie said. “It was the right one. I could see the left arm swinging, but it looked like the right one was pulled up in front of his body.”
A cold chill crept up my spine and tapped me on the back of my head. Achilles had latched onto the suspect out in the swamps, and when he clamped his jaws on something, it usually broke.
“Is it possible the man was carrying something?” I asked hesitantly. “Or was he definitely hurt?”
“Nah, he looked hurt, and I don’t think he was wearing shoes.”
I swore under my breath. All we needed was this crazy asshole running around town.
CHAPTER 58
After returning the airboat to the police department, I proceeded to my office and pulled up the number for the Drug Enforcement Administration’s Field Division in New Orleans and asked the answering service to contact Agent Lorn Sutherland. I provided my name, agency, and cell phone number.
“This is an emergency,” I said before hanging up. “It involves some drug-related murder cases Agent Sutherland is investigating along the border.”
That was all it took. Within three minutes, my phone was ringing.
“Clint!” Lorn said when I answered. “It’s been a minute, man! How the hell are you?”
“I’m great.”
“I heard you went down south and got eaten by some giant-ass alligator,” he said. “I had no idea you were still alive.”
We made small talk for about a minute as I drove my Tahoe toward the back of town, and then I hurriedly told him why I was calling. He grew excited when I told him we had someone in custody, and he listened as I told him about the shooting.
“These are dangerous men,” he said when I was done. “You’re lucky none of your officers were hurt or killed. I’m working the case along with an agent buddy of mine from the FBI, Cynthia Triggs. Do you know her?”
Although he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “She was one of the agents who worked the Hector Ortega sex trafficking case.”
“Right!” Lorn said. “Do you mind if we come down there and interrogate your suspect once you’re done with him? We like him and his crew for a half dozen executions down on the border—some real brutal shit. We need to find out who he’s working for.”
I mulled this over for a second. I remembered seeing the three Thibodeaux brothers hanging around town from time to time. They were awkward men, not very social, and they weren’t very sure-footed. While any idiot could hide in the trees and open fire on unsuspecting people, I couldn’t imagine them making their way to the border and waging a successful war on the drug cartel down there.
“Were they ambush-style attacks?” I asked.
“No, these were all-out wars,” Lorn said. “And when they captured members of the opposite gangs, they executed and beheaded them. These are some brutal and ruthless bastards. I’m surprised you took one alive.”
I shook my head. This didn’t sound like the Thibodeaux brothers.
“You’re more than welcome to come down here and take a shot at Marty,” I said, “but don’t get your hopes up. I doubt the Thibodeaux brothers are savvy enough to go down to the border and wage a war on the drug cartel, and Marty certainly doesn’t have the fortitude to stand and fight. Hell, he cut and run at the first sign of resistance. I’m sure the same firearms were used in your murders, but I doubt the Thibodeaux brothers are your real perpetrators.”
“Hmm…” Lorn was thoughtful. “You really don’t think they’re our guys?”
“They’re the types who’ll hide in the trees like cowards and bushwhack unsuspecting passers-by,” I said. “They won’t go to war with a worthy opponent. Now, the man who was with them—he’s a different story.”
I could almost feel Lorn’s ears perk up.
“There was a man with them?” he asked excitedly. “Tell me about him.”
I told him the little I knew, but that was enough.
“Holy shit!” The Lorn I knew was a brave man, but I detected a hint of fear in his voice. “A crossbow was used in a number of our executions by a man the Mexicans call Araña Blanca—the White Spider. And you came face-to-face with this man?”
“It was more like face-to-back,” I muttered. “He snuck up behind me. I never knew he was there until he shot me in the back of the leg. He would’ve killed me had my German shepherd not intervened.”
“You’re lucky.” Lorn’s voice had taken on a somber tone. “He never misses. He’s killed at least a dozen people as far as we know. I can’t believe he’s here, in Louisiana. I wonder what he’s doing this far from the border.”
There was real fear in Lorn’s voice now, and that caused a deep sense of foreboding to fall over me. It sounded to me like Lorn thought the White Spider was here for him. While that might’ve been true initially, I knew he was in town looking to finish what he had started with me.
Amy slugged my shoulder and snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Tell him about the drugs,” she hissed.
I had been so wrapped up in the details of the shooting that I’d forgotten to tell him about the drugs. I nodded my thanks to Amy and went on to describe everything Susan and Melvin had learned at the camp. I also told him about Ollie’s drawings and I shared my theory about the drugs being dropped from the plane.
“My guess would be that the White Spider is down here supervising the drop,” I said in closing, “because I can’t see anyone trusting such an operation to the Thibodeaux boys.”
“Did you say the MDMA was being stored in aspirin bottles?” Lorn asked.
“Yeah.”
“Clint, my friend, you might’ve found the link we’ve been looking for.” The fear had faded from Lorn’s voice and been replaced by excitement. “There’s been an influx of tainted MDMA tablets flooding the streets of New Orleans, La Mort, and other cities and parishes in our state. Louisiana has seen more overdoses in one month than all of last year, and the predominant killer is fentanyl-laced ecstasy. And get this—in more than a few cases, the locals have found aspirin bottles at the scene of the overdoses. I didn’t know what it meant before, but now I do.”
I frowned. While I had seen a lot of lives ruined by drug abuse, what we were now facing was altogether different—and much scarier. To have such a popular recreational drug like ecstasy tainted with such a deadly substance was terrifying.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” I said, and then headed for the middle school with Amy.
CHAPTER 59
Three hours later…
Marty Thibodeaux was a steel trap. He refused to say a word about the drug operation, and he wouldn’t say why he and his brothers had attacked Paul’s family and me. The only thing he would say was that he would be killed if he said a word to us. He refused to even hint at the identity of his potential killers. As the interview drew on, it became painfully obvious he was more afraid of his employers than he was of going to prison.
Amy and I had talked to him for about two hours to no avail, and then DEA Agent Lorn Sutherland and FBI Agent Cynthia Triggs had taken a turn with him. They’d also come up dry. The two agents were still in the interview room when I retired to my office to consult with Amy.
We were trying to devise a strategy to get Marty to open up when Regan entered my office to announce she’d delivered pizza to the break room.
When Amy and I had met with her earlier at the football field, she had stepped unsteadily out of the helicopter and complained about what she had called air legs. I had shot a quizzical expression in her direction, so she’d said, “You know how it feels like the ground is still moving when you get off a cruise ship?”
Amy and I had nodded.
“Well, that’s what it feels like right now,” she’d continued. “I’ve been in a helicopter or an airplane for two days, and even though I’m on dry land, it still feels like I’m in the sky. I keep expecting the earth to drop out from under me or to suddenly start bouncing around.”
Now—my stomach growling at the mention of pizza—I asked if her air legs had gained their footing. She opened her mouth to answer, but clamped it shut when something over my shoulder caught her attention.
“Where’d you get that?” she asked, her eyes curious.
I turned toward my filing cabinet, where a number of drawings were taped across the side of the metal surface. Before I could say anything, Regan approached the cabinet and fingered the drawing of the dog with the purple sunglasses.
“This one,” she said. “Where’d you get it?”
“Ollie Rupe gave it to me.” I indicated the other drawings that were still scattered on my desk. “We believe these other drawings depict what happened out there on the water.”
Regan scowled as I pointed to the different drawings and explained what they represented.
“This one shows the suspects in what we originally believed were pirogues, but we now know they were kayaks. This is one shows an airplane passing over the lake. In this picture, he’s with his mom and dad in the boat and—”
“And do you know the meaning of the dog with the purple sunglasses?” Regan asked, cutting me off. “Did you figure that one out?”
“He drew that one and then handed it directly to me,” I explained with a shrug. “I figured he simply wanted me to have a picture of a dog with purple sunglasses.”
“No, he didn’t want you to have some random picture,” Regan said confidently, shaking her head from side to side. “He was providing the best clue yet.”
Moving almost in slow motion, I turned from my desk to face Regan, who was now holding the dog picture. Amy had stopped what she was doing and had also focused all of her attention on the newest member of the police department.
As we stood there listening to her explanation, my mouth grew wider and my heart began to pound.
“That’s impossible,” Amy said.
“How sure are you?” I asked.
“Sure enough to stake my career on it,” said Regan with a nod. She pulled out her cell phone and showed me a picture she’d taken. “I’m that sure.”
The picture she’d taken was of an airbrushed dog with purple sunglasses. It was certainly a thing of beauty. Ollie’s rendition of the painting was rough and messy, at best, but that was to be forgiven. As far as I knew, the kid had never had art lessons and he was too young to write sentences, so the mere fact that he got the general shapes and colors right was to be commended.
As I compared the two drawings, the implications of Regan’s revelation made my head swim. I briefly considered the chances that this could be a coincidence, but in my heart of hearts, I knew we wouldn’t be that lucky.
“What’re we gonna do?” Amy asked in a hushed voice. I could tell she also realized how difficult this next step would be.
“We’re gonna move very delicately,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll get Susan in here and we’ll make a plan. This won’t be very pleasant.”
“What won’t be pleasant?” asked Susan from the doorway. She had been walking past my office, but now stopped and stuck her head inside. Her brown eyes were curious as she studied the expressions on our faces.
“Come in and close the door,” I said, dreading what I had to tell her.
She did as I asked. She then leaned her back against the door and folded her arms across her breasts, waiting.
To my surprise, her expression didn’t change a bit as I told her our theory.
“How sure are we?” she asked when I was done.
I shot a quick glance at Regan. “Sure enough that we’d stake our careers on it.”
“These are the rough drawings of a traumatized boy who couldn’t have seen it for more than a few seconds,” Susan said cautiously. “It isn’t enough for a warrant, so how do you want to handle it?”
“I figured you and I could do a knock-and-talk.” I indicated Amy and Regan. “We can have Amy, Regan, and a few other officers standing-by in case things get ugly.”
Susan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Finally, she nodded and said, “I can’t believe it, but I also can’t deny what’s in front of us. I’ll get the mayor on the phone. It’s only right that we talk to her before moving on this.”
CHAPTER 60
When Susan called Mayor Cain and told her we suspected her attorney of being involved with the drug smuggling operation, she said she was en route to the police department immediately. We all remained in my office until she arrived. We didn’t have to wait long.
“Are y’all sure it’s Perry?” she asked. “I mean, I just can’t believe it.”
I handed her the drawing that Ollie had created of the dog with the purple sunglasses.
“I saw that drawing earlier,” she said. “How does it relate to Perry?”
I waved Regan into the conversation.
“The nose art on Perry’s private plane is of a dog with purple sunglasses,” Regan explained, showing Pauline the picture she’d taken of Perry’s plane. “I’ve never seen anything like it and I’m a dog lover, so I took a picture of it.”
