“I’m not worried about that. It’s just that…now I think I understand what you meant when you said you were willing to do whatever was necessary to get at the truth.”
“And that scares you.”
“A little,” she admitted.
“Do you want to go back?”
She shook her head. “No.”
As they left the rice fields behind, the area became more wooded, and Claire saw the glimmer of another bayou through the trees. The longer they were on the road, the more apprehensive she became. Her stomach was in knots, her nerve endings vibrating like a plucked guitar string. And when she lifted her hand to her cheek, the skin on her face felt cold and clammy.
Dave made another turn, onto a dirt road, and she saw a light just ahead.
“That’s it,” he said, and a moment later, he pulled up next to a light-colored sedan and parked.
They both got out of the truck, and as they walked up to the cabin, Claire glanced around. They were in the middle of nowhere. The place was isolated and, except for the presence of the other car and the flicker of light in the broken window, appeared completely deserted.
Dave knocked once, then said in a low voice, “It’s me.”
The door was drawn open and a large silhouette filled the opening. Claire hadn’t seen Titus Birdsong in years, and it took her a moment to recognize him.
Light spilled out from the doorway and she could see him staring down at her. Quickly, he dropped his gun to his side. “Claire?”
“Hello, Titus.”
“Claire? What are you doing here?” His gaze shot to Dave.
“It’s okay. She knows about the phone calls and she knows we’ve got Nettle inside.”
Titus shook his head. “Don’t matter to me what she knows, she ain’t got no business being out here. This ain’t no place for a woman.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Titus, but you don’t need to protect me. I have a right to know who made those phone calls to Dave. Ruby was my daughter, too.”
For a moment Claire thought Titus was going to refuse to let her come in, but then he stepped back with a loud sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered to Dave.
Claire followed them inside, and for a moment, Dave blocked her view of the room. She had a brief impression of rough-hewn walls and bare floorboards, a rusted tin roof, and she could smell kerosene from the lamp that provided the light. Then Dave moved out of the way and she saw Clive Nettle.
He was almost as large as Titus, with close-cropped dark hair, black stubble and a scar that ran down the side of his face. He sat bound and gagged in a ladder-back chair, one eye nearly swollen shut and blood drying at his temple. His head lolled forward, chin on chest, and Claire thought at first that he was unconscious. Then he lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes.
A shudder ripped through Claire and she took a step back. She thought she’d been prepared, but the sight of that battered face turned her stomach. Nausea rose in her throat, and she pressed her hand to her mouth.
“You okay?” Dave asked. “Maybe you should wait outside.”
She shook her head, but it took her a moment to speak. “What did you do to him?”
“What I had to.”
“He’s…okay?”
“He’ll live. At least until he gets to Angola.”
Claire nodded, drawing a breath.
Dave walked over to Nettle and yanked the gag out of his mouth. “You weren’t very cooperative when I was here earlier. Let’s see if you’ve changed your tune now that you’ve had a little time to ponder your situation.”
“I already told you, I got nothing to say to you. And don’t think this won’t come back on both you assholes.” He nodded toward Titus. “Your career is over, you dumb shit. You chose the wrong side. And as for you…” He turned his head slowly to Dave. “You’re as good as dead.”
“Is that so? Because I feel pretty good at the moment. As a matter of fact, I’m liking my odds more and more these days. You, on the other hand…can’t say I’d want to be in your shoes when all this goes down.”
“Do I look worried?”
“You should be. You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, Nettle, much less a cop.”
“Up yours, pal. Last time I checked, I still have a badge and you don’t.”
“Tell me what happened that night with Renee. She tried to fight you off, didn’t she? Probably made her sick to her stomach just to look at you, let alone have you put your filthy hands on her.”
Nettle’s smile became a sneer as he glanced at Claire. “You know better than anyone what a man will risk for a little poon tang on the side, don’t you, Dave?”
Dave’s fist caught the cop squarely on the jaw, knocking the chair backward. It crashed into the wall, collapsed, and Nettle hit the floor with a loud thud. Dave bent over him and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “You murdering bastard. I ought to finish you off right here and now.”
The chair was broken in several pieces around Nettle, but his hands and ankles were still bound. He tried to scoot away, but Dave dragged him back and clamped a hand around his throat, squeezed until the man’s face turned red and his eyes fluttered and rolled back in his head.
“Dave, for God’s sake!” Claire cried.
“Ease up, partner,” Titus said softly.
Dave released Nettle and straightened. “Maybe now you’re ready to talk.”
“Fuck you,” Nettle wheezed, and spat blood on the floor at Dave’s feet.
Dave leaned against the wall and folded his arms. He suddenly looked as comfortable and relaxed as a man chatting with a neighbor at a backyard barbecue. “Let me tell you how I see this all playing out, Nettle. JoJo Barone is going to finger you and every other cop who was there at that party the night you killed Renee. He’s a dying man, so he doesn’t have a lot to lose, and I seriously doubt he’ll want to spend the rest of his days worrying about how to pick up the soap in the shower without bending over. The D.A. leans on him hard enough, he’ll roll. We both know he will.”
“That’s it? That’s all you got? The word of a two-bit greaser like JoJo Barone?” Nettle laughed, a low, nasty sound that made Claire’s skin crawl.
“That’s all we need,” Dave said. “Because when JoJo starts naming names, you’re going to find out real fast who your friends are. Bobby Ray already sold you out. That’s why you’re here. My guess is, your old buddies in the department won’t be much different. When they get wind of what the D.A. has in mind, they’ll hightail it to the nearest attorney and try to cop a plea that’ll keep their asses out of prison. You don’t have that option. You’re going to do hard time, no question about that. But if you want to stay off death row, you better make your deal while you still have something to offer. And the only way to get to the D.A. is through me.”
Nettle laughed again. “Do I look that stupid to you? Lee Elliot wouldn’t give a guy like you the time of day, let alone buy into this drunkard’s fantasy you’re trying to peddle. Here’s a news flash, chief. Your cred’s kinda shaky these days.”
Dave shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to ask Elliot yourself when he gets here.”
“Oh, he’s on his way here, is he? You really are delusional. Kind of pathetic, really. I heard you were a pretty good cop before you turned into a lush. Now you sound just plain crazy. If you had anything on me, I’d be in lockup right now instead of cooling my heels out here with you two fucks.”
“Maybe Elliot wanted to make sure you’d stay alive long enough to give him a statement.”
Claire saw something flash in Nettle’s eyes.
“Think about it,” Dave said. “It’s an election year and this kind of case is a wet dream for an ambitious prosecutor like Lee Elliot. Murder. Conspiracy. Police corruption. He plays it just right, he could ride this horse all the way to the governor’s mansion. If you don’t cooperate, he’ll just move on down the line to the next guy on JoJo Barone’s list.”
“I still say this is nothing but one big bluff.”
“It’s not,” Claire said, and she felt Dave’s gaze on her as she took a step toward Nettle. “My sister is an assistant D.A. Her name is Charlotte LeBlanc. She was handpicked by Lee Elliot to be on his team. They’re very close. I can get her on the phone right now to verify everything Dave just told you.”
