But Not Forgiven by BJ Bourg

Author:BJ Bourg [Bourg, BJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-18T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

I didn’t see Chloe in the crowd of reporters as we drove away, so I tried calling her to find out if she’d spoken with her family. She didn’t answer.

Susan was on the phone with Detective Cagle and she pointed toward the north when we reached the highway. “Go left,” she said. “Cagle’s got something.”

Although it was cloudy, it was still hot and the Tahoe felt like an oven. Sweat gathered on my forehead and I slid my window down to let in some air until the air conditioner could cool us off. I drove for about a mile until I saw an unmarked detective car parked on the shoulder of the road. I pulled beside it, waited for Cagle’s window to slide down.

“Does a green Thunderbird mean anything to you?” he asked.

Had I been Achilles, my ears would’ve perked up. “Yeah, it was seen at the scene of the last murder.”

Cagle flipped through his notepad, read over what he’d written. “Two different people drove by the cemetery yesterday at about noon and saw a green car parked beside the road,” he said. “One of them described the car as an old green Thunderbird and the other person just said it was a faded green sports car.”

“Damn, that’s brazen,” Susan said. “Breaking into a tomb in the middle of the day and target practicing on human corpses.”

“Did either of them see a driver?” I asked, hopeful.

“No, they both said the car was unoccupied when they drove by the cemetery.” Cagle looked up from his notes. “One of them—a lady who was making a trip to the grocery store—drove back by an hour later and the car was gone.”

We discussed the case a while longer with Cagle and when we’d had everything we needed from him, Susan and I drove back to the office. A gray Ford pickup truck was parked in front of the police department and I recognized it to belong to the new mayor, Dexter Boudreaux. A former alligator trapper, he was so popular no one would run against him when he decided to throw his hat into the political arena and run for mayor. When asked by a local reporter why he’d decided to run for mayor, Dexter had spat a long stream of tobacco onto the street and lifted the nub where his left arm used to be. “The missus won’t let me trap alligators no more since this happened,” he’d proclaimed, “so I figured I’d do something just as dangerous and unpredictable—get into politics.”

I waved at Lindsey when we walked inside and she pointed to the kitchen. “He’s getting coffee.”

I nodded and joined the mayor in our break room. His weathered face lit up when he saw me. “Clint! How the hell are you?”

“Good, I guess. I’d be better if I could figure out who’s killing off our residents with arrows.”

His face tightened. “This has got the missus all worried. She won’t sit on the porch anymore. Barely goes outside. She keeps threatening to make me quit my job.

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