Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 13 - 15 Read online

  CLINT WOLF BOXED SET: Books 13 - 15

  Book Thirteen: BUT NOT FORESPOKEN

  Book Fourteen: BUT NOT FOR BLOOD

  Book Fifteen: BUT NOT FOREKNOWN

  This set 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 © 2020 by BJ Bourg

  Cover design by Christine Savoie of Bayou Cover Designs

  PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  CONTENTS

  Book Thirteen:

  BUT NOT FORESPOKEN

  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

  Book Fourteen:

  BUT NOT FOR BLOOD

  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

  Book Fifteen:

  BUT NOT FOREKNOWN

  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

  Book Thirteen:

  BUT NOT FORESPOKEN

  CHAPTER 1

  Friday, October 25

  Main Street, Mechant Loup, Louisiana

  The early morning air was cool for a change. While most of October had been in the high nineties, a cold front had finally blown through earlier in the day and the temperature had dropped into the mid-sixties. Not cold by any measure, but it was a nice reprieve from the summerlike temperatures that had been doggedly plaguing the area and it was going to be a good weekend. Of course, the weather was never a given in Southeastern Louisiana, so things were subject to change.

  Officer Amy Cooke closed her eyes for a split second as a breeze blew through the open windows of her police cruiser. It caressed her face like soft fingers. A loose strand of blonde hair tickled her nose and she brushed it away. She thought about retrieving the jacket from the trunk of her Dodge Charger, but decided against it. Her work shift would be over in a couple of hours anyhow, and it hadn’t been a busy night.

  Other than writing a few speeding tickets and issuing a couple of traffic warnings, it had been a boring shift. Things had picked up for a bit when the bars closed at two o’clock, and traffic on Main Street had increased for about twenty minutes. Amy had grown instantly alert and had studied every passing car, watching closely for the slightest hint that someone might’ve been driving drunk. But she’d had no such luck. Every driver had been on his or her best behavior. Soon after it had begun, the traffic had faded back to nothingness and she had relaxed into her seat.

  Now, the time was approaching three o’clock and she hadn’t seen another vehicle or human being in about an hour. The police radio hadn’t muttered as much as a squeak. She glanced at the indicator light again to make sure it was on. It was.

  With a sigh, Amy shifted her car in gear. She had already made two passes through Mechant Loup checking every business in town, but she figured a third time wouldn’t hurt, especially since there had been a burglary at Mechant Hardware almost two months ago. It had been on Melvin Saltzman’s shift and he had discovered the rear door pried open around five in the morning, right before the owner had arrived to open up.

  Melvin was her counterpart. He worked the opposite night shift, and he was as good a cop as any she’d ever met. The fact that he had located the break-in before the owner got there gave the impression that the police department was on top of things, but Melvin was angry he hadn’t captured the thief in the act.

  Amy frowned. She remembered Melvin saying the owner couldn’t figure out what the thief had stolen, and they had begun to think the suspect had merely needed a place to sleep for the night. After all, it had been storming on the night of the burglary, so it did seem plausible.

  Amy was approaching the first building on her route through town when the radio scratched to life and Karla’s voice sounded across the speaker. Karla McBride was a new dispatcher that Chief Susan Wolf had hired to
help out during the night shifts. Susan was married to Clint Wolf, who was the town’s current chief of detectives. He answered directly to Mayor Pauline Cain, as did Susan. They were co-equal branches of the town government, and Amy had heard it was the only way Clint would come back to work on the force. He didn’t believe in nepotism and, since one of the reasons he had left police work was to date Susan, the arrangement made sense. Amy didn’t care about any of it. She was just glad Clint had decided to come back to work three years ago. She’d learned a lot from him.

  “Amy, there’s a report of a burglary in progress on the west side of town, where Coconut meets Second Street.” Karla’s voice was tense with excitement. “A lady—her name’s Martha Kleen—says someone’s trying to break down her door and she’s all alone. She’s crying hysterically. It’s in progress.”

  Without hesitating, Amy whipped her Charger around and headed toward Main Street. She was currently on the eastern end of town, so she buried her accelerator and sped down the bumpy street. Before she could reach the end of the street she was on, Karla’s voice came back on the radio.

  “Mrs. Kleen called back and reported shots fired,” Karla shrieked into the radio. As far as Amy knew, this was the dispatcher’s first emergency call since joining the police department last month. She sounded frantic. “The lady, she…she was screaming on the other end of the phone and then the line went dead. I called back, but there’s no answer. I…I just…I don’t know what to do!”

  “It’s okay, just keep trying to reach her and radio for a sheriff’s unit to back me up. I’m almost there.” While Amy’s voice was deathly calm and soothing, her own heart was beating a little faster in her chest and her mind was going over every possible scenario she might encounter out at the scene. She went over all the information at her disposal. It wasn’t much, but none of it was good. A woman was home alone and someone was breaking down her door. Shots were fired and the line went dead.

  Amy frowned. She knew she was probably going to find the woman either seriously injured or dead, and her response time was so short that she would surely encounter the shooter on the way out. She subconsciously wriggled the fingers on her gun hand to loosen them. She also said a silent prayer that she would survive this hot call. She accepted the risks of her job and operated with the grim realization that her life could be snuffed out at any moment, but she wanted to at least live long enough to get married and have a kid or two.

  Amy cut through a parking lot, crossed Main Street, zipped in and out of some back streets, and was turning onto Coconut within a minute or two of receiving the call from Karla. During the entire trip across town, she hadn’t activated her strobes or siren because she didn’t want to telegraph her approach to the scene. Now, she shut off her headlights and buzzed her windows down. She needed to hear everything that was going on in the cool night air. If the victim had been shot, the person responsible would surely be on the run. She listened for the sounds of slamming doors, roaring engines, barking dogs, or shoes clattering on concrete. There was none of it.

  Amy kept her eyes wide and scanned her entire surroundings. The moon was shining bright in the sky and it helped to illuminate the area. If the shooter was running from the scene, he would be easy to spot. She pursed her lips as she drew closer. He must’ve been running in the opposite direction, because there was no movement whatsoever—unless the shooter had hunkered down. This caused a chill to reverberate up and down her spine. What if she were under surveillance? What if the shooter was lying in wait for her and would open fire once she got out in the open?

  As she approached the end of the street, she killed the engine and allowed her cruiser to coast forward for a few dozen feet. When the car rolled to a slow stop, she whispered into her radio that she had arrived at the scene. She then turned the volume down on the radio and eased her door open. She couldn’t see the house due to the utter darkness and the distance from the house to the street, but she knew where it was located. She had driven by here many times.

  The house was set far back on the property and there were oak trees and other trees of varying sizes scattered around the front yard. These trees were not aligned in any particular pattern or order. It was as though someone had long ago tossed a handful of seeds into the air and let them fall where they may. The trees were plentiful enough that it was difficult to see the house from the street even in the daytime, and now it was next to impossible, especially since there didn’t appear to be any lights on.

  A driveway was set off to the right corner of the property and it extended from the street toward the house, zigzagging its way through the trees until it reached the house. The wet grass was well manicured, and Amy decided to approach the house from the center of the yard rather than accessing the driveway. She wanted the element of surprise on her side, and she also wanted to take full advantage of the cover and concealment offered by the trees.

  Everything was graveyard quiet as Amy advanced. There were no croaking frogs, no chirping crickets, and no cicadas singing their death cry. The only movement she detected in the utter darkness was from mosquitoes, but even they moved so silently that she couldn’t hear the buzzing of their wings. It was too quiet, and she knew it.

  As Amy drew closer to the house, she noticed the trees were thinning out, leaving giant gaps in her cover. She planned her every movement carefully, but as quickly as she could, for she knew the victim might be in need of medical attention.

  Before moving from behind one tree, she would already know which tree would be next, and she would waste no time out in the open. When moving out in the open, she approached at a brisk and crouching jog, keeping her pistol held ready in her right hand until she reached the next point of cover. She then repeated the process and soon found herself a dozen or so yards from the front of the house.

  Amy had just stopped behind a large oak to survey what she could of the front yard. Thankfully, the light from the moon and stars filtered through the overhead leaves and cloaked the clearing around the house in a ghostly hue. While it was spooky, it was comforting to be able to see her surroundings better. Her night vision was coming in good now, so she was able to decipher the different shadows in the yard. From her vantage point, she was able to detect some thick bushes near the front of the house. To her left, there was a small tree that had to be about twenty feet from a wooden fence. To her right was a larger tree and it was positioned directly in front of the house. The larger tree was near what appeared to be a sidewalk, and that sidewalk snaked from the driveway to the front steps of the house. The only way she knew it was a sidewalk was because the light from above painted it white against the dark grass.

  Amy was about to approach the tree closest to the sidewalk when she detected something odd about the shape of the front steps. While she could see the clearly defined edges of the right side of the steps, the left side appeared oddly shaped. What the hell is that?

  She carefully scanned the front of the house, but could detect no movement or other signs of life. There were no sounds from inside or outside the house. Could it be that the shooter had killed the woman and escaped without Amy seeing anything? She had arrived in record time, but not instantaneously. It was possible the killer had escaped within the precious seconds that it had taken for her to arrive.

  Thinking quickly, she decided to approach the house by way of the tree to the left. She would be out in the open for a couple of seconds on her approach to the tree, and then again on her final approach to the house, but there was nothing she could do about that. She was about to move when she heard the mournful sound of sirens wailing in the distance. She had expected the sound to come from the north, where Chateau Parish was located, but she actually heard it approaching from the south. Melvin lived east of here, so it couldn’t be him. It had to be Susan or Clint.

  She hesitated for a split second longer, wondering if she should wait for backup to arrive, but then decided to advance on the house. For all she knew, the victim could by lying there injured an
d could bleed to death in the time it took for her backup to arrive.

  Taking a deep breath, she bolted from her position of concealment and darted straight for the tree. She pulled up short behind it and waited, listening. Still no signs of life from the house. After taking another breath and exhaling it, she raced from behind the tree and headed straight for the nearest corner of the house. She dropped to her knees when she reached the edge of the porch and sighed when her movements brought no reaction. Whatever it was on the left side of the steps, it couldn’t be alive. She frowned at the thought. What if it was the woman?

  Using one hand and both knees to crawl forward, she eased herself from behind the plants that sprouted up from the flowerbed. She approached the steps as quietly as she could. Her knees grew cooler as the moisture from the wet grass saturated her uniform. She grunted and hoped they weren’t getting grass stains on them. It was the only good pair of pants she had left after tearing up her second pair on a barbed-wire fence two weeks earlier while trying to chase a coyote from a cow pasture.

  When Amy was within five feet of the steps, she reached cautiously for the flashlight in her back pocket. Thanks to the deep shadows of the house, she still couldn’t discern the shape at the edge of the steps, but it looked big and lumpy. An extremely large rug, perhaps? Maybe a dog sleeping? That last thought made her swallow hard. If it was a dog, there’s no way it was still sleeping. It would’ve surely heard her approach and stirred. Could it have been struck by gunfire? Was it dead?

  With her flashlight in one hand and her pistol in the other, she said a silent prayer and flipped the switch on the light. The area before her was immediately flooded with 3200 lumens of brilliance and everything came into clear view. She gasped out loud at what she saw.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Clint,” Susan called from the darkness in the bed beside me. “Get your phone. It’s vibrating.”

  I rolled groggily to my side of the bed and reached for the nightstand. I’d worked late into the previous night and had spent all day testifying in court about a case I’d handled a few months ago, so I was out like a Mike Tyson opponent. It certainly didn’t help that I’d forgotten to take my phone off of vibrate when I left the courtroom earlier. Had it not been for Susan, I would’ve slept right through the call.