FBI Agent Jade Monroe: Live or Die 01-Blood in the Bayou Read online

  “Jackson.”

  “And she lives in Houma too?”

  “Yes, on Bixby Street.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I went to work at Kyle’s Restaurant. I had a double shift yesterday, and when I got home at six o’clock, I assumed she was at work. I texted her a few times but didn’t get a response.”

  “And you weren’t alarmed?”

  “Not then since they can’t have their cell phones out unless they’re on break. The phones have to remain in their lockers otherwise.”

  “So when did you actually begin to worry?”

  “Around nine o’clock last night when she didn’t come home. Her workmate Dan usually gives her a lift and—”

  “Hold up a minute,” Renz said. “Dan? Have you spoken with him? And have you spoken with Sheila?”

  “Yes to both questions. Dan said she never showed up for work, which completely threw me for a loop, so I called the store to find out if that was true, and it was. Carla never clocked in yesterday. That’s when I called Sheila.”

  Sheriff Conway excused himself for a minute and left the room. We continued with the questions. Moments later, he was back with a carafe of coffee and four Styrofoam cups. I nodded a thanks and poured as Renz asked more about the call to Sheila.

  “Sheila told me she felt sick and left the bar around twelve thirty. Carla didn’t want to leave yet but swore she would call a rideshare company to take her home.”

  “Did Sheila say anything about talking to people at the bar? Other patrons, somebody hitting on them or acting too friendly?”

  Gayle began to cry and dabbed her cheeks with one of the napkins from the stack Conway had brought in with the coffee. “She said she looked back at Carla before walking out the door and saw a man take her empty seat.”

  “Hmm… he could have been an innocent patron who wanted to sit down or possibly an opportunist snatching up his chance to start a conversation with Carla,” Renz said.

  I added my take. “I suppose it could have gone either way. So no ride home and nobody who’s a friend or family has spoken with her since twelve thirty Sunday night?”

  “That’s correct, Agent Monroe.”

  “Do you know either the Fish or Meadows families?”

  She frowned. “No, should I?”

  “Not necessarily.” I let out a long breath. “Okay, we have to follow up with Sheila. Do you think she’s home right now?”

  “Um, I don’t know. What—”

  Renz tipped his wrist. “It’s almost noon.”

  Gayle looked at the ceiling. “She should be unless she’s out doing errands. She works from three until eleven at Post Printing. They make a free coffee break type of newspaper that goes out weekly. It has classified ads, store coupons, and those types of things in it.”

  “And will you be at home later today?” I asked.

  “Yes, it’s my day off since I did a double yesterday.”

  “Okay, we’re going to follow up with Sheila, go to Bubba Mike’s, and then circle back to your place. By the way, do you remember what Carla wore when she went out on Sunday night?”

  “I do,” Gayle said. “She had just purchased a cute pair of dressy boots, but you couldn’t see them with pants on, and it’s too hot outside for pants, anyway.”

  I knew the feeling.

  “She decided to put on a little black skirt with a flowery top.”

  I jotted that down. “What colors were in the top?”

  “Peach and coral. Those are her favorite colors.”

  “Appreciate the information, Gayle. Do you have any idea if Bubba Mike’s has cameras?”

  She shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

  “Okay, not a problem. We’ll check that ourselves and get back to you in a few hours.”

  Sheriff Conway showed Gayle out while I returned the recorder, pen, and notepad to my briefcase.

  “What do you think is the smartest thing to do, Jade?”

  I rattled my fingers against the table as I thought. “I think we should put our main focus on Carla Moline. She could still be alive, and her disappearance is recent enough that people may remember seeing her either at the bar Sunday night or somewhere around town yesterday. Let’s drop off Jadon’s toothbrush at the forensic lab and then go talk to Sheila Jackson and the staff at Bubba Mike’s.”

  Chapter 17

  “Now where the hell are they going?” Robby had nearly lost the agents earlier when they’d gunned the Explorer after leaving Mechanicville. They’d returned to the sheriff’s office, where they had been inside for at least forty-five minutes, and now they were on the go again. Robby wondered who the young sweet thing was who had walked out a few minutes earlier and if she had anything to do with the agents’ sudden return to the sheriff’s office.

  Staying several car lengths behind the Explorer, Robby followed the agents to an apartment building on Bixby Street, where he saw them park and get out.

  “Damn it. There’s no way I’ll know who they’re visiting when it looks to be an eight-unit building.” He had no choice but to wait.

  Hmm… I am a gutsy kind of guy. I’ll give them a few minutes, then I’ll take a look at the tenant register myself to see if any name rings a bell.

  Robby reached across the seat and pressed the button on the glove box. He pulled out the envelope that contained all the driver’s licenses and IDs of his victims and shuffled through them. Nobody he had abducted lived on Bixby Street. He returned the envelope to the glove box, grabbed the door handle, and climbed out of the truck. Acting nonchalant as if he was a visitor to the building wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in the slightest, but lurking and sneaking around would. No matter what, he still needed to check the names and do it quickly before the agents came back out. At a fast clip, Robby crossed the street, stepped up to the door, and checked the panel where the buzzers were situated next to each resident’s name. He ran his finger down the list, whispering each tenant’s name as he did. He didn’t recognize a single first or last name. He cursed under his breath, returned to the truck, and took his seat. He had no choice but to wait it out.

  A half hour passed before he saw movement at the front door. The agents came out and climbed into the Explorer.

  “It’s about damn time.” Robby waited until they had pulled out onto the street before he made a U-turn then followed a half block behind them. Listening to the radio’s music, he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he was led to the west side of town. As the neighborhood became familiar, he saw them turn in to the parking lot of Bubba Mike’s. “Uh-oh, this isn’t good.” Robby pressed his palms into his temples. “So they’re checking into Carla’s disappearance. Even with my ball cap on, the question is, did I ever look directly at the cameras or not?”

  Chapter 18

  Bubba Mike’s wasn’t exactly a high-class establishment. It was more of a local joint where a mix of lower-middle-class to bottom-of-the-barrel individuals hung out. Inside, the space was dark, dank, and smelled of skunked beer. The music was louder than any ears should safely tolerate, and the patrons looked like they’d been on weeklong binges. I wondered what the appeal was for people like Carla and Sheila to deliberately go there and consider it a good time.

  I took in the scene as my eyes adjusted to the darkened room. “Wow.”

  Renz cupped his hand against his ear and leaned closer. “What did you say?”

  I waved off the comment since my personal opinion wasn’t important. What was important was talking to the person in charge and viewing the footage from the camera mounted in the corner that faced the bar. I jerked my head toward the man behind the bar and headed in that direction. Renz followed.

  “Excuse me.”

  The bartender was talking to an older man who had his head propped up with his folded hands. He was bobbing left to right, and I assumed he’d already had way too many drinks.

  I yelled a little louder the second time. “Excuse me!”

  A woman to my righ
t butted in. “He ain’t going to pay you no attention, honey.” She looked me up and down as a cigarette bounced between her lips with every word. “You clearly don’t belong here.”

  “Are you allowed to smoke indoors in Houma?”

  She laughed—a definite raspy smoker’s laugh. “Who’s gonna tell me I can’t? You the smoker’s police?”

  “No, sorry.” I jerked my chin at Renz then at the bartender who was intentionally ignoring me. I yelled out, “Put on your tough-guy persona and go talk to him!”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  I watched as Renz cut in on the conversation between the men and pulled out his badge. The bartender grumbled something impossible to hear from my spot then disappeared down a hallway and out of sight.

  Renz returned to my side, cupped his hand again, and leaned in. “He’s getting the manager.”

  “Nice work, partner.”

  Seconds later, a woman with bright-red hair, who looked to be around sixty but was probably forty-five, rounded the bar and set eyes on us. I was sure it was easy enough to pick out the people who wanted to talk to her. Renz, still with his badge in hand, turned it to face her. She didn’t say a word but stopped in her tracks and waved for us to follow her. We complied. She waited at the end of the hallway in front of an open door. I glanced at the sign that dangled from a nail. It read Manager Only.

  She waved us through and closed the door, where she stood with her hands on her hips while sizing us up. “State or Feds?”

  I responded. “Feds, and we need to view your camera footage from Sunday night.”

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  I smiled. “No, but I’d be happy to lock this place down while we get one. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to find plenty of city and state violations in this dump.”

  She laughed. “Spunky bitch, aren’t ya?”

  “Damn straight when it’s called for.”

  “Okay, okay, take a chill pill, honey.”

  I hadn’t heard that expression for a good ten years.

  “What exactly do you need my camera footage for? Regulars come here every night of the week, and we haven’t had any trouble that would cause law enforcement to pay me a visit, especially the Feds.”

  Renz took his turn. “A young lady went missing Sunday night, and she was last seen here. I couldn’t tell you if she was a regular or if she just came by on occasion. She was with a friend who went home around twelve thirty, and then she was on her own. We have no idea what time she left or if she left alone, but the footage would probably give us those answers. How many cameras are in here?”

  “Four. Two facing the indoor space where the bar tables are, one by the door facing the bar, and one over the till. None outside.”

  “We need to see Sunday night’s footage from ten p.m. until closing. Let’s start with the camera mounted next to the door that faces the bar. I’d assume that everyone who walked through the door would be caught on that camera.”

  “You’d assume correctly, handsome.”

  “The name is Agent DeLeon. We know what the missing girl was wearing, so it shouldn’t be tough to pick her out. Also, who was tending bar that night?”

  “I’d have to check the schedule.”

  “Okay, can you set up that footage and then check your schedule?”

  “I suppose.” She deliberately brushed past Renz, chest first, then took a seat at the computer.

  I had to hold back my laughter when he looked at me and rolled his eyes.

  “There you go. Camera one is up and set for Sunday night beginning at ten o’clock. Just click on the arrow to start it.”

  We knew full well how to operate forward, back, and pause buttons, but we thanked her, and Renz pointed for me to take the chair. He leaned in at my back. I double-checked the time stamp at the bottom right side of the screen before beginning. Seeing that it was correct, I tapped the forward arrow.

  “Hold up a second.” Renz had apparently noticed a folding chair behind the door and brought it to my side of the desk. I paused the footage while he got situated.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Go ahead.”

  I tapped the forward arrow again, and we watched what looked to be a large crowd of people in Bubba Mike’s.

  “Am I missing something? I mean, what’s the attraction to this shithole?”

  “No clue,” Renz said, “but we have to watch the footage closely since it’s really dark in there.”

  “At least we know what Carla was wearing. That has to help.”

  The bar was crowded, and all we could really see was the backs of people from the waist up as they entered. The camera caught only full bodies who were standing or sitting at the bar or beyond it.

  “It’s too dark to discern colors, so just watch for a light-haired woman who’s wearing a floral-print top.”

  “Got it. Damn it.”

  I glanced at Renz. “What?”

  “We didn’t ask Sheila who got there first, her or Carla.”

  “That’s right. They wouldn’t be walking in together. We just have to watch for Carla. Gayle said they left the apartment at ten fifteen.” I glanced at the time stamp—10:09. “We still have ten to fifteen minutes before she’d be entering. Do you see Sheila in the crowd anywhere?”

  Renz said he didn’t, and unfortunately, the footage wasn’t the best quality. We continued to watch as people funneled in.

  “I bet they’re violating the fire code for the number of people that can be in there.”

  Renz gave me a grin. “You’re a stickler for rules, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry, guess my dad pounded that in our heads as kids.” I frowned. “I have gone out on a limb quite a few times, though.”

  Renz looked surprised. “Really? Care to share?”

  I laughed. “Nah. Best to leave the past in the past. I don’t want to ruin the stellar opinion the FBI has of me.” I pointed at a woman who had just walked up to the bar. “Is that Sheila?”

  Renz looked closer at the screen. “Back up a smidge and then pause it.”

  I did as he said.

  “Okay, stop there. Yeah, I think that is Sheila, and she’s dead center on the screen. That ought to help identify Carla when she arrives.”

  “Unless they give up their spots and wander off somewhere else.”

  “Then the other cameras should catch them.”

  I checked the time again—10:26. “She should be coming in any second.” I focused on the people entering the building as if I had tunnel vision. “There!” I hadn’t meant to yell, but I was excited. Renz jumped, causing me to laugh.

  “Damn it, girl. You sure are excitable.”

  I held up my hands with my palms facing him. “Sorry again.” I backed up the footage to be one hundred percent certain it was Carla. When she was centered on the screen about five feet inside the building, I paused it. “Okay, floral-patterned top and long blond hair. So far so good. By the time she reaches the bar, we should be able to see if she’s wearing a skirt and boots.” I grumbled because of the crowd. “Damn it, people, get out of the way.” There was finally enough of a clearing to see her skirt, then her hand went up, and she waved. Sheila mirrored the wave. I slapped my hands together. “Yep, that’s her.” I checked the time—10:45. We were in for a long day of sitting in that stinky building and staring at the computer. “Let’s put all of Sunday’s footage on a stick. It’s something we’ll need, anyway, and we’re definitely going to have to review it multiple times. Can you go find Red and tell her we’re going to copy the recordings from Sunday?”

  Renz frowned. “Why me?”

  “Really? She has the hots for you. Need I say more?”

  Chapter 19

  I reviewed parts of the footage again while I waited for Renz to return with Red. When they walked in, it was obvious that she already knew what we wanted. Renz must have explained it to her. She waved me off the chair, took a seat, and tapped a few keys. The footage was being transferred to th
e stick.

  It took a good fifteen minutes to transfer, but when it was done, we thanked her and asked about the bartenders who had been on duty Sunday night.

  “It was Chad, Maria, and Todd.”

  “Great, and who is the guy tending bar right now?”

  Red jerked her head toward the door. “That’s Chad.”

  “Humph, Mr. Hospitable. Well, we need to speak with him, so somebody else will have to tend bar while we’re doing that.”

  “I’ll send him back.” Red left the office.

  I smiled at Renz. “You softened her up a bit, I see.”

  He laughed. “Knock it off. She’s definitely not my type.”

  “Then maybe we should have the discussion about your type someday”—I made air quotes around the word type—“over a beer.”

  Renz winked. “Maybe or maybe not.”

  Seconds later, the door opened, and Chad walked in. “You two need to talk to me about something?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Have a seat.”

  He sat on the desk chair, and we stood. The footage had been queued up to the moment that Carla joined Sheila at the bar.

  “Have a look at the footage on the computer. Those two girls came in Sunday night after ten o’clock. The woman on the left went home at twelve thirty, and the one in the flowered top stayed behind. I realize the footage is grainy, but that sure looks like you talking to them from behind the bar.”

  “Yeah, I worked that night. So what?”

  “So you served them numerous times.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Exactly. You must have noticed that the woman on the left disappeared after a while and a man took her seat.”

  “I did notice the ladies weren’t together anymore.”

  “There were three of you working, according to Red.”

  “Who?”

  “The manager.”

  “Her name is Rita.”

  I smiled. “Rita or Red, it’s all the same to me. Anyway, do you each have an area to bartend?”

  He nodded. “I get the left half of the bar, Todd gets the right, and Maria gets the bar tables and fills in during our breaks.”