But Not Forever: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 4) Read online

  BUT NOT

  FOREVER

  A Clint Wolf Novel

  (Book 4)

  ___________________

  BY

  BJ BOURG

  www.bjbourg.com

  BUT NOT FOREVER

  A Clint Wolf Novel (Book 4) by BJ Bourg

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2017 by BJ Bourg

  ISBN-13:

  ISBN-10:

  Cover design by Christine Savoie of Bayou Cover Designs

  PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 1

  3:25 p.m., Monday, September 26

  Dire Lane, Mechant Loup, Louisiana

  “Cindy, this is my friend, Kegan Davis,” Burton Vincent told his younger sister as he and Kegan stepped out of his room and into the hallway. “Kegan, this is my adopted sister, Cindy.”

  Having heard the joke a million times, Kegan adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and chuckled, but Cindy wasn’t amused.

  “Don’t take my word for it—just look at her,” Burton continued. “She’s got red hair and green eyes while my mom, dad, and I all have brown hair and brown eyes. Either she’s an alien or she’s adopted.” Burton pretended to see the lanky kid standing behind Cindy for the first time. “Who the hell are you and how’d you get in my house?”

  “Shut up, Burt.” Cindy pushed by Burton and waved her boyfriend along, her eyes boring into Burton as she did so. “Come on, Troy. Don’t pay attention to my idiot brother.”

  Cindy had been dating Troy Gandy for a few months and this was the first time she’d invited him over—and Burton wasn’t happy about it. His parents weren’t home and, although he brought girls to the house all the time when they were gone, he didn’t like his sister doing the same. Troy started to move around Burton and Kegan, but Burton blocked his way. At seventeen, Burton was a year older than Troy and towered over him.

  “My dad bought me a gun and he told me to shoot any boy who goes in my sister’s room. You’re not going in her room, are you?”

  Troy’s lower lip twitched just a little. “Um, I’m going with...um...we’re going study in her...um...we’re going to—”

  “You’d better stay out of her room.” Burton’s eyes narrowed. “She might be adopted, but we love her like she was our blood.”

  “Come on, Troy!” Cindy bellowed from the end of the hallway. “Don’t even talk to him.”

  Troy hesitated and Burton seized upon it. “Don’t you do it, little man. I’ve got the green light from my dad and I’ll take you out.”

  “Maybe we should...um...hang out in...”

  “Troy, he’s lying. He’s a liar. My dad wouldn’t trust him with a gun if he was forty. Now get in here!”

  Burton fixed Troy with a cold stare and slowly shook his head.

  “If you don’t stop,” Cindy warned, pointing a finger at Burton, “I’m telling Dad you set the neighbor’s hay bales on fire.”

  “Hey, that was an accident! That bottle rocket was defective.”

  Cindy reached around Burton and grabbed Troy’s arm, dragging him past her brother. They disappeared in Cindy’s room, but before the door was shut, Burton yelled, “Cindy, that football player called again and said he wants to take you back to the movies. He said he loves you!”

  Cindy cursed Burton from her room. Although the door was shut, he heard her plainly.

  Kegan broke out laughing. “You’re an ass! That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

  Burton clenched his fists. “I hate that little dude. I heard he walks around school bullying the smaller kids.”

  “Did you tell Cindy?”

  “She doesn’t want to believe it. She thinks he’s the best thing since Facebook.”

  “Beat his ass—but only use your left hand so it’ll be a fair fight.”

  “My mom said if I get in another fight she’s pulling me out of football.”

  “Really? If my mom told me that, I’d punch her right in the face.”

  “What?” Burton stared incredulously at Kegan. “You wouldn’t dare hit your mom.”

  “Wanna bet? That would be considered a fight and if that’s what it took for her to let me quit football, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I hate football more than I hate mosquitoes.”

  Burton shook his head idly and stared at Cindy’s bedroom door, then turned back to Kegan.

  Kegan was shorter than Burton; his complexion was darker and he had longer hair, too. Of course, it wasn’t hard to be darker than Burton. He was so pale his friends called him “Whitemare” on the football field. He was six foot and weighed in at one-seventy, but it was a solid one-seventy. When he hit opposing linemen, they felt it. Kegan, on the other hand, was a little over five feet and barely clocked in at one-forty with his uniform and helmet on.

  As Burton stared down at his friend, Kegan’s pimply face broke out into a full grin. “What do you think Cindy and that dude are doing?”

  “They’d better not be doing anything,” Burton said, scowling. “He probably doesn’t even like her.”

  “I don’t know. She’s kinda pretty.”

  “Dude, shut the hell up!” Burton punched Kegan’s shoulder playfully. “That’s the sickest thing you’ve ever said—and you say some sick stuff.”

  Kegan chuckled quietly and tiptoed to Cindy’s door, pressing his ear against it. “I think they’re having sex,” he whispered.

  Burton’s blood instantly boiled. He stepped into his room and snatched up the chair from his desk. He then placed it across the floor at the far end of the hall, where it was dark and hard to see, and strode to Cindy’s room.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried the doorknob. It was locked. He immedia
tely smashed his fist against the door and bellowed, “Dude, you’d better put your clothes back on and get the hell out of here! My dad’s home early and he’s got a gun!”

  A high-pitched shriek sounded from inside the room—it wasn’t Cindy’s voice—and was followed by frantic bumping and rustling. The door opened a second later and Troy raced from the room carrying his shoes. He crashed into the chair and screamed as he pitched forward. He landed with a thump, his shoes flying through the air. One of them smashed into a picture frame on the wall, breaking it and causing glass to rain down onto the floor. Troy scrambled to his feet, gathered his shoes, and then scurried out the front door.

  Cindy stormed over to where Kegan and Burton stood laughing and shoved a finger in Burton’s face. “You’re an asshole! That’s it—I’m tired of keeping your dirty little secret. You’re going to jail for arson!”

  Before Burton could reply, she turned on her heels and returned to her room, shoving the door shut and locking it.

  Still laughing, the boys walked outside and headed toward the back of the street. “Let’s go see if Paulie wants to mess with some alligators,” Burton said.

  Paul Rupe lived a few blocks down the street, and his was the last house down Dire Lane. Paul was as tall as Burton, but not as physically fit. He preferred playing video games while Burton and Kegan favored contact sports, but all three loved fishing and harassing alligators.

  When they reached Paul’s house, Burton and Kegan rushed up the wooden steps and banged on the door. It didn’t take much to convince Paul to come along with them, and the three boys were soon heading toward the canal west of the neighborhood, which was appropriately named Westway Canal.

  The sun was shining brightly and, although it was supposed to be fall, it felt like the middle of summer. Burton knew it would be cooler once they reached the trees, but they had to first cross about five hundred yards of grassy fields. As they trudged through the thick weeds their shoes kicked up pollen from the foliage and Paul began to sneeze.

  “Damn it,” he mumbled. “I should’ve brought some Benadryl.”

  “You’re lucky you don’t play football,” Burton said. “Some of those guys spend the whole time miserable—sneezing constantly, snot dripping from their noses. It’s disgusting.”

  “Trust me…it ain’t like we sneeze on purpose just to gross you out.”

  “You could control it if you wanted to,” Kegan chided. “You’re just being difficult.”

  The three boys laughed and pressed on. When they finally reached the wooded area behind the neighborhood, Kegan slipped the backpack off his shoulder and removed a primitive tomahawk from inside. It was made of wood and stone and held together with leather straps. He hefted it in one hand. “This is the best gift anyone ever gave me, Paulie. If something attacks us, we’ll be ready.”

  Paul had given Kegan the tomahawk last month when his family returned from vacation. Still more than a little jealous, Burton grunted. “Yeah, and all I got was a shitty piece of paper.”

  “It wasn’t just a piece of paper,” Paul said, dipping under a low-lying tree branch and scurrying down the bank to the edge of the canal. He stopped just short of the water and waited for Burton and Kegan to join him. “By the way, what’d you do with it?”

  “I stuck it on the refrigerator door with one of those magnets my mom has, but it disappeared two days later. No one has claimed responsibility, but I know Cindy did it.” Burton shrugged. “If it would’ve been a tomahawk, maybe I’d care, but it was just a stupid—”

  “Hey, what the hell is that?” Paul’s shrill cry cut Burton’s sentence short.

  Burton slid down the embankment and skidded to a stop beside Paul and Kegan. Paul was pointing to the opposite side of the canal about a hundred yards north of their position, where the water was low from the outgoing tide. Much of the opposite edge of the canal was exposed and something was plopped onto the mud a few feet from the bank.

  “Whatever it is,” Burton said, shielding his eyes from the sun, “it looks like it got stranded when the tide went out. Let’s move closer.”

  Burton led the way along the water’s edge. His feet sank into the soft mud as he walked and water seeped into his shoes. On a normal day, he didn’t like walking around in wet socks, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were focused on the object and his mouth began to widen as they neared the area directly across the canal from it.

  “Is that…?”

  “Damn, dude!” Kegan’s fingers dug into Burton’s shoulder as he tried to push his way around his friend. “That’s a dead body!”

  CHAPTER 2

  It was a little before five o’clock when I passed up my driveway and stopped abruptly to back my boat trailer under the carport. Achilles, my jet black German shepherd, lurched forward on the seat beside me and almost spilled onto the floor. He righted himself and then looked at me as though to say, “Next time you decide to stop suddenly, how about a warning first?”

  I laughed and reached over to rub his thick neck. He licked my hand and scooted closer to me. He was over a hundred pounds and took up most of the seat, but I didn’t mind. He was a good friend and a fierce protector. The tourists loved him more than they loved me and nearly everyone would mention him by name in their online reviews.

  I backed my boat into its normal spot and shut off the engine. Achilles didn’t even wait for me to open the door. He bounded through the front window and headed for the back yard at breakneck speed, barking as he ran. I shook my head. He had probably seen another squirrel and would chase it up a tree and then spend the rest of the evening wondering how to get up there after it.

  My fiancée, Police Chief Susan Wilson, wasn’t home, and I began to wonder if she’d miss training again. She and I had each sold the houses we’d owned separately and built this nice home together. Complete with a thirty-by-thirty gym, it was located at the beginning of Paradise Place. We both agreed it would be better to remain close to the shelter, which was at the end of Paradise Place, where we could handle any issues that might arise. Being at this location, we would know anytime someone came or went, and we were close enough to keep the women and children who stayed with us safe.

  I stepped out of my truck and walked to the edge of the paved carport, where I stomped the mud from my rubber boots. I was about to kick them off when tires screeched behind me. I turned to see Susan speeding up the driveway in her marked Chevy Tahoe.

  “Don’t take those off,” she said when she stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked briskly toward me. “I’m going to need you.”

  Loving the sound of that, I leaned against the wooden post at the corner of the carport and admired her as she drew closer. A tan polyester uniform never looked so good. It wasn’t tight, but was snug enough to reveal the hardened body beneath it. Her gun belt rose and fell with the sway of her hips and her powerful legs tested the fabric of her pants. The muscles in her bronze-colored arms flexed when she reached up and pushed the dark shades high up on her forehead, revealing her dark eyes.

  “You need me? Or want me?” I asked when she was close enough for me to detect specks of paint in her brown hair. As she always did when she was working or fighting, she’d braided her hair into cornrows and tied them off into twin pigtails. I reached up and scratched at the paint, but stopped when she leaned up to kiss me. At five-eight, she was only two inches shorter than me.

  “I always want you,” she said with a smile after pulling away, “but I also need you right now. Some boys found a body grounded on the western bank of Westway Canal. I need a boat to take me there and, since you’re my favorite captain, you get the pleasure of bringing me.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. Over the past year she’d been okay with my decision to leave police work, but since the work on the shelter was nearly complete and I wouldn’t be as busy, she began hinting at my return to the police department.

  “Last I checked, the Mechant Loup Police Department owned several boats,” I said slowly. “And you can dr
ive all of them. So…do you really want me for my boat, or do you want me to have a look at the dead body?”

  Susan shoved her fists into her hips and frowned. “You know how it’s sometimes necessary to force-feed a dead rat to a snake that stops eating?”

  I nodded slowly, not knowing where she was going.

  “Well, I figured if I’d force-feed a dead human to you, you’d want to get back into homicide investigations.”

  “Wait—do you think it’s a homicide?”

  “Nah, it’s probably just another drowning,” Susan’s face brightened up and she stabbed at my chest with her finger, “but did you notice how excited you got there? You want to come back, I just know you do.”

  Frowning, I explained—yet again—that I’d lost the right to wear a badge when I did what I did last year. “It was dishonorable.”

  “You were cleared of any wrong doing. It was a justified shooting.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but she pushed her fingers against my lips.

  “The people in this town need you, Clint Wolf. Who are you to deny them?”

  We’d had this discussion before, where I’d tried a different tack, saying it wouldn’t be proper for me to work for my future wife. “It wouldn’t be ethical,” I’d argued.

  “I’ve already spoken with Mayor Cane and she cleared it with the ethics board,” Susan had countered. “She’ll hire you as the town investigator and you’ll work directly for her, same as me, and there’ll be no issues with nepotism. We’ll be separate, but co-equal, branches of the town government. I’ll be the chief of police and you’ll be the chief of detectives—only you won’t have any other detectives under you.”

  She had laughed at the last part and I’d only grunted.

  Not wanting to rehash the argument now, I grunted again, but trudged to my truck. “I’ll take you to the body, but only because I love you—not because I want to work cases again.”

  Giving a triumphant yell like she did when she wins a cage fight, she hurried to her Tahoe and backed out the driveway, heading for the boat launch. I checked on Achilles—he was still trying to figure out how to get up the tree—and closed the gate to lock him in the back yard. After getting back in my truck and firing up the engine, I pulled out of the driveway and headed toward Main Street.