But Not Forspent Read online

  BUT NOT

  FORSPENT

  A Clint Wolf Novel

  (Book 20)

  ___________________

  BY

  BJ BOURG

  www.bjbourg.com

  BUT NOT FORSPENT

  A Clint Wolf Novel 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 © 2021 by BJ Bourg

  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 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 1

  I squinted against the bright sun that shone overhead. The wind whipped my face and tickled my eyelashes, but I didn’t mind. I was smiling—if not on the outside, definitely on the inside.

  The first Saturday in June, it was as warm as would be expected, but it was also beautiful out on the water. My wife, Susan Wolf, who served as police chief for the town of Mechant Loup, had decided to take her mom and our daughter to New Orleans for some shopping. I knew they would spend the entire day hunting for clothes, home decorating stuff, and whatever else caught their eyes, so I had opted out of the trip. Me, I preferred gun shops and hardware stores, and I knew there would be none of that on this outing.

  Although Susan had tried to bribe me along with the promise of P.F. Chang’s for lunch, I’d decided to pack a luncheon meat sandwich, some Doritos, and an RC and head out on the water. It had been a while since I’d taken the boat out, and this was as good a time as any, since I finally had coverage at work again.

  Amy Cooke’s doctors had cleared her to return to full duty last week and we were experiencing a quiet spell at work, so I didn’t feel bad about heading to the lake to see if I still knew how to fish.

  Amy was the only detective working under my supervision, and she had been out for an extended period of time following an attempt on her life. I had been extremely busy while she had been out, and I was glad to have her back.

  While I had begun my day at seven o’clock in the morning, it was a little after eight before I was actually able to put my boat in the water, thanks to making several stops en route to the boat launch. First, there had been a visit to Mechant Groceries for food, treats for my dogs, water, and drinks. Next had been a stop at the bait shop for shrimp, and then, finally, Cig’s to fuel up the boat.

  Achilles and Coco, my two German shepherds, loved being out on the water. I took them every chance I got. Achilles was a male, he was solid black, and he weighed in at over one hundred pounds. Coco was a saddleback female and an average-sized shepherd. Now that we were on the water, they were both seated at the front of the boat, their ears flapping in the wind, and their eyes squinting like mine.

  “Ah, what a glorious day!” I said aloud, as I steered my boat past the mouth of Lake Berg and continued along Bayou Tail. Up ahead, the bayou turned sharply, switching from a westward direction to a more southerly one, and I continued following it. I didn’t want anything in Lake Berg. I was heading for Le Diable Lake, where only the brave of heart dared to venture.

  Le Diable was a place of great seclusion and mystery. Many a person had reported seeing Big Foot, the Honey Island Swamp Monster, and even the Loch Ness monster in the eerie lake. There had also been mentions of ghosts and demons, and some even claimed an evil band of voodoo priestesses lurked about in the surrounding woods. While a few teenagers and hunters still ventured into the lake from time to time, the chatter was enough to keep most people away.

  Although the place was loaded with saltwater fish and some of the largest alligators around, the majority rode right past it and continued on to the Gulf of Mexico or dipped into one of the many other smaller lakes and waterways in the area. There were just too many wild stories—some of them true—coming out of that body of water for most people to stomach.

  A number of incidents—including some murders—had taken place out on that lake, and it was enough to cause the bravest of souls to take heed before venturing out there alone. Even those who didn’t believe in ghosts and goblins had to admit the place was either cursed or simply jinxed, much like the Bermuda Triangle. Sure, lots of ships sailed through the Triangle without incident, but there was no denying something strange was going on out there, and the lake was no different.

  To me, Le Diable represented a place of peace and quiet. I would catch my limit of redfish, explore some new channels through the swamps and marshlands, and then head back home to clean and cook my catch. With luck, we would be eating fried redfish, white beans, and rice for supper.

  As my boat sped down the wide bayou, which was lined on either side by dense woodlands, I hadn’t a care in the world. Work was the farthest thing from my mind. If quizzed right at that moment, I wouldn’t remember if I was the chief of detectives for Mechant Loup, a detective in La Mort, or a construction worker building houses and installing wooden floors.

  While I had removed most things from my mind, I did wonder a little about Susan and Grace and if they had made it safely to New Orleans. I wasn’t so much worried about their safety once they got to the—oftentimes—mean streets of the city. Susan was an expert with a firearm, she had been raised by a professional boxer, and she used to compete in MMA matches, so she could handle herself in any situation. Sure, crazy things could happen and even a cowardly teenager with a gun could murder a skilled warrior, but I knew the safest place in the city would be right where Susan was standing.

  I was speeding along and we were still about a mile from the mouth of Le Diable Lake when I noticed Achilles’ ears perk up. Coco was lounging on the bow of the boat, her head resting lazily against her outstretched paws, but Achilles
sat erect and proud. Unlike me, who had decided to take off today, he was always on duty.

  I backed off the throttle a little and scanned both sides of the bayou. The trees were thick in this area and my eyes couldn’t begin to penetrate the wall of foliage that surrounded us. The water up ahead was clear of people or debris. I cocked my head to the side as I watched him test the wind with his nose. What was going on inside that head of his?

  “What’s up, Big Man?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the humming boat motor. “What do you hear?”

  He didn’t even acknowledge me. He was focusing intently on something off in the distance. I pulled way back on the throttle and killed the engine, allowing the boat to coast forward as it slowed. I turned my own ears to the wind and listened, but heard nothing. I sat there for a full minute. The boat rocked gently with the waves that lapped against the hull, but those were the only sounds.

  “Achilles, what is it?” I called. “What did you hear?”

  He turned to look back at me as though to say, “Can’t you see I’m working over here?”

  He then turned his attention back to the south, where we were heading. I couldn’t hear a thing. If he had indeed heard something over the roar of the boat motor, it had to have been loud enough to stimulate his senses, but too far away to stimulate mine.

  Shrugging, I fired up the engine. Whatever it was that had captured his attention, we would either run into it or it would be gone by the time we reached the area.

  When I pushed the throttle forward, the bow rose smoothly into the air and then leveled off as we picked up speed. I kept my eyes on my dog. He was half crouched now, as though he was ready to pounce. I frowned. Achilles was not one to overreact. While I had seen him bark at a grunting alligator or try to chase a screeching bird, I had never seen him take such a defensive posture over the mere sight or sound of another animal. The only other time he’d reacted in this manner was to the threat from a human.

  I began to feel uneasy and slowed my boat. While I always kept a pistol on me, I hadn’t taken along my satellite phone or my police radio. After all, this was my day off, and I wanted to enjoy it without focusing on work. I was always on call—especially when Amy was out—and it was seldom that I got a mental reprieve. Even when I wasn’t working I was wondering when I would get called out again, so I had told Amy she was on her own today and that I was going completely off-grid for eight or ten hours to recharge my batteries. She had been fine with it and told me her turn would come later in the year. I had asked what she was talking about, but she hadn’t expounded.

  Now, though, I was back to thinking like a cop. I studied the flat bottom of my aluminum hull and scowled. I hadn’t taken along a rifle when I’d left the house, because I hadn’t planned on needing it. I had simply wanted to enjoy my day without thinking about trouble. Was that so much to ask?

  I cursed and shook my head, wondering if I would regret throwing caution to the wind. I knew folks who went about their lives without a care in the world. They didn’t carry a gun, didn’t scout an escape route every time they entered a building, didn’t size-up every person they encountered with an eye toward destroying them if necessary, didn’t stand to the side when using a public bathroom in case someone shot through the door, and certainly didn’t carry a semi-automatic rifle on a fishing trip.

  If there was one good thing about being a cop for so many years, it was that it had conditioned me to always be prepared. If there was one bad thing about being a cop, it was that I was always prepared—and maintaining a constant state of readiness could be exhausting.

  As we drew nearer to the mouth of the lake, Achilles’ hackles rose like a tidal wave. Something was up ahead and he didn’t like it one bit.

  CHAPTER 2

  I reached for the small of my back and made sure my Springfield 1911 was where I could reach it. I didn’t have to check if it was cocked with the safety on, and I didn’t have to check if it was fully loaded, because that was how I carried it. It would be useless otherwise.

  I quickly calculated my ammo supply. I had eight in the magazine and one in the pipe. I also had two extra eight-round magazines in the back left pocket of my cargo shorts, so I had twenty-five .45 caliber rounds on my person. I glanced again at Achilles and wondered if I’d need more.

  I killed the engine before we reached the mouth of the lake and allowed my boat to coast forward. I stood and stared intently toward the darkness of the thick woods just north of the mouth of the lake, which was exactly what Achilles was doing, but I couldn’t see anything. I could, however, hear a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

  Whatever or whoever was out there, they certainly had the element of surprise. They would’ve heard us coming from miles away. Sound usually carries far and wide on the water, but it would’ve carried even farther on such a clear and cloudless day. My eyes darted from one dark shadow to the next along the bank to my left, trying to determine if danger lurked behind those trees.

  Not seeing anything, I shot a quick glance at Achilles. He was staring into the deep shadows. His teeth were bared now and he had shrunk to a low crouch. He looked like a panther about to pounce on its prey. Even Coco was paying attention now. Her ears were up and her eyes were fixed on the same spot as Achilles.

  Moving slowly, so as not to make a sound, I eased my hand back to my pistol and pulled it free. With my index finger resting beside the trigger and my thumb on the safety, I waited and watched as we crept forward.

  Thanks to the overhanging branches of the giant trees above us, we were in the deep shadows at the moment and would be hard to see against the dark backdrop of the opposite bank, but we were rapidly approaching the sunlight at the mouth of the lake. I wanted to move closer to my dogs, but to do so might cause unnecessary noise, and it would definitely highlight my position. The human eyes are quick to pick up movement, which is why the one laying in wait always has the advantage over the one doing the stalking—and right now, we were at a grave disadvantage.

  Not only were we the ones moving, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Achilles was as stiff as ever. I had hoped he might start relaxing when we drew nearer—realizing whatever he had heard was of no threat to us—but that hadn’t happened.

  Suddenly, almost directly to my left, a large twig snapped. I whirled around, bringing my pistol to bear. Alligators might snap twigs when they moved through the woods, but the noise will usually be accompanied by a dragging sound, like a drunk stumbling about in the forest. This was definitely no alligator and I didn’t know of any animals in these parts that would so clumsily snap such a large twig. No, this had to be a human.

  Just as my eyes trained on a circular shape in the shadows—a shape that didn’t occur naturally in the wilderness—Achilles let loose with a chorus of fierce barks. Almost in that same instance, the shadows exploded in movement.

  The circular shape was a head, and it immediately raced forward when Achilles began barking. At the same time, two other figures leapt from the underbrush near the mouth of the lake. They were all shouldering long guns and they all immediately began firing at us.

  I instantly snapped off two shots in the direction of the nearest man, which was the one I’d seen first. Simultaneously, I took two lunging strides and dove for my dogs, throwing myself between them and certain death.

  When I landed on the bow beside Achilles, I shoved him hard, knocking him roughly into Coco. They both tumbled into the water on the starboard side of the boat, and away from the gunfire. As bullets whizzed by me and peppered the side of my boat, I scrambled forward and hit the water behind my dogs. I didn’t see my dogs again, but I hoped they had the good sense to do what I was doing—heading straight for the bottom of the bayou.

  I didn’t know who was shooting at us or why, but I knew there were three of them and they were on the southern bank of Bayou Tail, near the mouth of Le Diable Lake. I also knew that two of them were armed with semi-automatic rifles and the third—the one I’d shot
at—wielded a semi-automatic shotgun. From the reports of the rifles, it sounded like they were firing AK-47s.

  I could still hear the gunshots while underwater, but they were muffled now. I kicked my feet and stroked with my arms as I raced along the bottom of the bayou, trying to reach the opposite bank as fast as I could. Holding a pistol in one hand surely slowed me down, but I wasn’t about to let it go.

  I was sure the men had boats, but I hadn’t seen any, and I was hoping the vessels weren’t easily accessible. If I could live long enough to hit the trees of the opposite bank, I might have a fighting chance to escape.

  I gritted my teeth as the thought crossed my mind. I didn’t like the thought of escaping—of running away. I wanted to stand and fight. I wanted to go after these bastards. I wanted to take the fight to them and destroy them for ambushing me for no good reason—

  I paused in my mind to consider this. There was no good reason that I knew about. Who could say why they were attacking me? Had I stumbled upon some kind of criminal activity? Or was I being targeted? I didn’t have a lot of answers at this point, but of one thing I was certain—they had lain in wait for me, and they had intended to take me out.

  I struggled to hold my breath as I pushed through the water, my mind focused on my dogs. Had they escaped? Most dogs swim above water, so they might’ve been partially exposed to the gunfire once they resurfaced from me pushing them overboard, but I was hoping they followed me across the bayou. With luck, my boat would offer enough concealment for them to swim to the opposite shore and escape through the woods.

  I grunted as I swam on. How would they know to make it to the opposite shore and escape through the woods? Achilles knew enough to know he was in danger and he would move away from the gunshots, but he certainly didn’t process information like humans did. He might be swimming up or down Bayou Tail, in full view of the gunmen. As for Coco, she would follow along and do whatever he did.

  I was terrified for my dogs. Where were they? Were they okay? The terror began to turn to anger. If those men hurt Achilles or Coco, there would be no end to the hell I would rain down upon them.