Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18 Read online

  After watching the morning news while eating breakfast, I grabbed my holster and kissed Susan goodbye.

  “I’m right behind you,” she called.

  I checked on the dogs. They had a large raccoon treed in the back yard. I chuckled and then headed for work in my unmarked Tahoe. We lived south of town, but the drive to the office was not a very long one, unless something happened to prolong the trip—and that’s exactly what happened on this morning.

  I had been traveling along Main Street and was approaching Mechant Groceries when an old beat-up truck came barreling down on me. As though they didn’t know my black Tahoe was a police vehicle—or they didn’t care—the vehicle swerved into the left lane and whisked past me. We were in a no-passing zone and I was going the speed limit.

  I tried to see who was driving as it sped by, but the windows were tinted. I never did like enforcing traffic laws, but I figured the truck might end up killing someone, so I flipped the switch on my lights and activated my siren.

  Snatching up my radio, I called dispatch and reported that I was attempting to pull over a red pickup truck traveling at a high rate of speed through the south side of town. Lindsey Savoie, our daytime dispatcher, came on and asked Officer Baylor Rice if he was available to respond.

  “Ten-four,” he said. “Where are you, Clint?”

  “Approaching the old police department,” I radioed. “It’s not slowing down and we’ll be out of town in a minute.”

  I backed off of the accelerator when I saw a car approaching Main Street from Washington Avenue. I just knew the car’s driver wouldn’t see the old truck and would pull right out in front of it, but, thankfully, I was wrong. Before reaching the Mechant Loup Bridge, which crossed over Bayou Tail and was our only connection to the rest of the world to the north, the taillights brightened and the truck swerved right onto Grace Street. Through the back windshield, I saw the man shift violently to his left. Somehow, he managed to maintain control of his vehicle and shot down Grace before turning left onto a side street.

  As I might’ve guessed, he headed straight for the boat launch. What I didn’t know was if he would crash the truck into the water or stop short. I also didn’t know what would happen once he exited his vehicle, but I was about to find out.

  Rocks and dust shot into the air as he brought his truck to a sliding halt. I veered left and braked hard, positioning the engine of the Tahoe between me and his truck. I shoved my door open and—hand on pistol—stepped out into the hot air.

  It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet and I felt as though I’d stepped into a furnace. I shouldn’t have been surprised, because I had been warned early this morning by our local meteorologist. Not only was she informative and accurate in her forecasts, but she was also entertaining, and had categorized the feels-like forecast for this afternoon as “swamp booty.” I had laughed when I’d heard the forecast, but I wasn’t laughing now. While it was still early, we were well on our way to that level of torture.

  “Show me your hands!” I hollered to the figure that had stepped out of the driver’s door. A hot breeze had whisked the dust away and I immediately recognized Red McKenzie standing there looking angry. I knew Red. While he was a hothead, he wasn’t a bad man. I relaxed and approached him. “What’s wrong, Red?”

  He turned toward me and I frowned. I’d seen that expression on his face once before, and it could only mean one thing. He shrugged his sagging shoulders and a look of utter despair fell over his face.

  “I…it’s happening again. My boys didn’t come home last night. They’re…they’re missing.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I didn’t waste any time. I immediately called Lindsey and asked her to have Melvin Saltzman meet me at the boat launch with his boat. Melvin was a longtime Mechant Loup police officer and he was better on the water than anyone I knew. He usually worked the nightshift on patrol, but he always responded when we needed him.

  Baylor pulled up a few seconds later and approached my Tahoe as I began questioning Red.

  “They grew up on the water and I know they can take care of themselves,” Red explained, “but I can’t help but worry. They’ve always come home.”

  “Do they have a cell phone?”

  He frowned. “I can’t afford the service. Besides, the reception is spotty where we live. It doesn’t pay to have one.”

  “What were their plans last night?”

  “They were running catfish lines in Lake Berg—like they’ve been doing every night since summer started.” He rubbed his face, as though trying to flatten the worry lines that had spider-webbed across his leather skin. “They’re usually home when I get up at six, but their boat wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. I figured that maybe they had a busy night and were just running late, so I made my coffee and waited on the wharf. It was about fifteen minutes ago when Brennan Boudreaux floated by the camp with a group of tourists. I asked if he’d been out to Lake Berg and he said he had. I asked if he saw Zeke and Paulie, but he said he hadn’t. He said he saw an aluminum hull tied to a tree on the eastern bank of the lake, but no one was around it. He said he figured the operator had hiked into the marsh to fish.”

  I nodded, considering what he’d just said. Brennan Boudreaux—the brother of former mayor Dexter Boudreaux—owned Brennan’s Seafood and Swamp Tours. The elderly man had spent most of his life on the water and would recognize the signs if there was trouble on the water.

  “Is it possible the boat broke down and they hiked through the marsh?”

  Red nodded. “That’s what I thought at first. They pull their pirogue behind the aluminum hull in case they break down or in case they need to get into shallow water, so that’s why I came here. I thought they might’ve paddled here, but…”

  He allowed his voice to trail off and I nodded my understanding. I could hear the fear in his voice. I turned to Baylor. “I’ll jump in with Melvin when he gets here and we’ll check the lake. Can you drive up and down along Bayou Tail Lane and Back Street and search the banks of the bayou?”

  Baylor nodded and hurried to his patrol car. Static scratched across my radio and Melvin’s voice came on to say he would be at the boat launch in five minutes. As I watched Red pace back and forth in the shells, I took a call from Susan and explained what was going on. When I ended the call, I retrieved a notebook from my vehicle and handed it to Red.

  “Write down the names of your boys’ friends. If you know their numbers, write them down, too, as well as their parents’ names, numbers and addresses.”

  Red got busy. As he wrote, he explained he didn’t know any of their numbers except for one of the fathers. “We work together, so that’s how I know him. Zeke goes to school with his son. Bart’s his name. Other than that, I don’t really know how to contact their school friends. My boys spend all their time on the water. Hell, if I didn’t threaten them, they wouldn’t go to school at all.”

  I remembered life as a young boy in Louisiana. We lived on the edges of La Mort and, while I had access to the swamps, it was nothing like the paradise in which Zeke and Paulie were growing up. Had I been them, I would never have wanted to go to school either.

  Red handed me the notebook and I began scanning it when Melvin’s F-250 came rumbling into the parking lot of the boat launch. Amy also showed up in her marked Dodge Charger. I walked away from Red and greeted her when she exited her vehicle.

  “What can I do?” she asked, tugging at the waistline of her jeans. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and the top of her blouse was open two buttons down. “I’ve dealt with these kids before. When I was on patrol, I was always getting complaints about them trespassing on private land. I caught them a few times. Usually, they were just hunting or fishing where they weren’t wanted—nothing serious.”

  I ripped out the sheet of names and handed it to her. “Can you run down their friends while I run to the lake with Melvin? A flat boat was seen on the northern end of the lake, so it might be theirs.”

  Sh
e scanned the list, nodding as she did so. “I’ll find out when they last spoke to Zeke and Paulie and if the boys had any plans that deviated from their normal activities.”

  “Sounds good.” I glanced over at Red, who was helping Melvin launch the department’s boat. “Also, press the kids to see if Zeke and Paulie were involved in anything criminal. Maybe they did something stupid and got into trouble.”

  Once she was gone, I grabbed my shotgun and joined Melvin. Red glanced at my shotgun and raised an eyebrow. “Are we expecting trouble?”

  “We’re just being cautious,” I explained. I shot a thumb toward the boat. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  He nodded and quickly boarded the vessel. Once we were all onboard, Melvin fired up the engine, backed away from the dock, and headed for the lake. It was still hot, but the wind offered a bit of comfort as we raced westward along Bayou Tail. I scanned both banks and the surface of the water as we rode, hoping to catch a glimpse of the boys or their pirogue. We weren’t positive the boat that Brennan Boudreaux had seen belonged to the McKenzie brothers, but the chances were high that it did.

  We traveled westward for about a mile until we reached the mouth of the lake. Melvin leaned over and removed his binoculars from a hatch and handed them to me. I began scanning the lake as we headed north. I had to close one eye to better focus on the lake, but nothing stood out as suspicious.

  Melvin had slowed the boat significantly so that he and Red could scan the tree line to the east. I continued searching the waters to our west, but I came up empty. We had traveled a little over a mile when Melvin called out that he saw the aluminum hull that Brennan Boudreaux had reported. I moved to the starboard side of the boat and leaned out over the water so I could see where he was pointing. The spray from the boat felt good against my face, but it was so hot that the droplets almost dried in mid-air.

  “I see it!” Red called from beside me. “That’s their boat!”

  Red was a big man and I had to stretch a little farther out to see around him, but I finally saw the flatboat tied to a tree branch on the eastern bank of the lake. Melvin pulled back on the throttle and the boat slowed even more. The boat was positioned in a shadowy area of the bank where the trees hung low over the water. I squinted to pierce the deep shadows as we coasted toward the boat. When we came to within a foot of it, Red reached out and grabbed onto the side.

  “It’s empty.” His voice seemed to sink a little. “And their pirogue is gone.”

  Melvin pointed to a break in the bank. “This opens into a little canal that spills into a private lake. It’s shallow until you reach the middle, so we’ll have to use the push poles to get through this cut and the shallow parts. The boys probably took the pirogue to explore the lake, because they would’ve definitely buried their motor.”

  “A private lake?” Red asked.

  Melvin nodded. “I’ve been called out here a few times to run people off, but I haven’t been here in at least ten years. I think the original owner died. I don’t know who owns the property now.”

  “Damn it!” Red pushed a bead of sweat from his forehead. “I told them boys to stay off of private property. I’m tired of having people complain about them trespassing.”

  “It’s hard to know that it’s private,” Melvin explained. “There’re no signs to keep people out, so I’ve never issued citations for trespassing. I would just inform them—it was mostly kayakers—that it’s private and I’d never see them in the area again.”

  “But I told them a thousand times, if they’re not positive it’s public land, to stay the hell out.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just focus on finding them. Once we know they’re safe, then you can then get mad at them.”

  He grumbled, but nodded his agreement.

  CHAPTER 4

  Melvin and I began using the push poles to get the department boat through the shallow portion and into the deeper water of the private lake. It was no easy task and it took us a little over an hour. Once we’d made it, Melvin fired up the engine and began making the round of the perimeter. We hadn’t gone far when I saw Melvin put his right hand to his forehead to shield his eyes.

  “Look,” he said, pointing across the lake. “I see something under that tree.”

  “That’s it!” Red hollered in excitement. “That’s their pirogue!”

  I had to grab onto the side of the boat as Melvin jerked the steering wheel in that direction. The motor roared as it carried us across the narrow waterway. As we drew nearer, it seemed obvious that the pirogue was empty. I glanced at Red. His face had lost its color and his shoulders slumped.

  “Dear God,” he whispered, “please let my boys be okay.”

  My heart began to thump in my chest and I said a silent prayer myself. Red’s boys were mischievous and adventurous, but they were good kids—and they were his life. If something had indeed happened to them, I didn’t know if we would be able to control Red’s outburst without hurting him. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.

  “I’m turning up mud,” Melvin said. He shut off the engine and activated the switch that raised the motor. We glided forward, still a dozen yards from the pirogue.

  Still holding on to my push pole, I set it in the water and gave it a shove. “Come on, please be okay,” I whispered, staring intently toward the pirogue. I was hoping for a sign or a clue—anything to indicate that everything was okay and that the boys had simply gotten lost or stranded out here.

  We had almost reached the pirogue when I heard branches snapping somewhere to the right and off in the trees.

  “Zeke!” Red hollered. “Paulie! Where are y’all?”

  The thick underbrush directly across from the pirogue began rustling loudly, as though a fight was taking place within the bushes, and then Paulie was standing there. He looked a mess. He wore dirty jean shorts, a torn T-shirt, and there was another shirt wrapped around his head. His face and arms were covered in welts, mud, and scratches.

  “He’s gone, Dad,” the twelve-year-old boy said. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

  Without waiting for us to reach the shore, Red launched himself out of the boat and into the waist-deep water. He waded toward his son, demanding to know what was going on.

  “Zeke…Zeke wanted to fish for some big catfish,” Paulie explained tearfully. “And then we heard people talking in the woods. Zeke went to go see who it was and—”

  “You mean he left you here all alone?” Red demanded.

  Paulie nodded his head. “I begged him not to go, but he wanted to make sure everything was safe. He didn’t come back. He just disappeared. I can’t find him anywhere. I mean, I didn’t go far because I was scared, but I can’t find him.”

  Melvin and I had pushed the boat up against the shore and we both jumped to the bank. I stood patiently by while Red continued to question Paulie—it was more like a hostile interrogation. I wanted to interject, but dared not for fear of setting Red off. I needed the man to stay as calm as possible so we could figure out what happened out here and locate Zeke.

  “What in the hell are y’all doing here in the first place?”

  “I told you, Dad, Zeke wanted to catch some giant catfish. His buddy from school said they had the biggest fish in this lake.”

  “Which buddy? That kid, Bart?”

  Paulie nodded.

  Red lifted his head and scanned the forest to the east, and I did the same. Beyond the trees, about a mile away, was Westway Canal. On the other side of the canal was a neighborhood. Had Zeke gotten lost and made it to the neighborhood? There were a few wooden bridges at various spots along the canal, and I remembered there being one near a pumping station somewhere east of us.

  “Should we get a chopper in the air?” Melvin asked me out of the corner of his mouth.

  I considered the idea. If Zeke was lost in the trees, we would most likely not be able to see him from the sky. Additionally, he might be simply goofing off, and I certainly d
idn’t want to waste the pilot’s time or fuel unless we were sure we needed him.

  “Let’s give it a minute,” I said.

  “How long ago did Zeke leave to find these people?” Red wanted to know from Paulie.

  He shrugged. “It was last night. A long time ago. We came straight here from home. We were about to set out the lines when we heard the voices.”

  “He’s been gone all night and you never thought to get help?” Red’s voice was loud and threatening. “What in the hell is wrong with you, son?”

  Tears streamed down Paulie’s face. “I was scared, Dad. I was just too scared to move.”

  I stepped forward and put an arm around Paulie’s shoulders, facing Red as I did so. “That’s enough, Red. I’ll take it from here.”

  I didn’t want to have to put the man down in front of his kid and under these circumstances, but I wasn’t going to let him take his frustrations out on Paulie.

  Red took a breath and averted his gaze. I thought I saw a tear leak from his left eye. “Okay,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m just really scared right now.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, turning away from Red and kneeling in front of Paulie. “Okay, son, you said you last saw Zeke sometime last night. What time did you leave your house?”

  “It had just gotten dark—”

  “They left around nine o’clock,” Red interjected. “That’s what time they always leave to run their catfish lines. They’re expected home by midnight. They usually wake me up when they get back so I can know they’re safe. I didn’t realize they hadn’t come home until I woke up this morning. I guess I just slept through the night.”

  Red’s voice was laced with guilt. I asked Paulie if he had heard any noises after Zeke left.