But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

Sam’s wife was standing over the stove whipping up some scrambled eggs when Sam led me through the kitchen.

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” she offered. “We’ve got a lot.”

“These are the best scrambled eggs you’ll ever eat,” Sam bragged. “Once you eat my wife’s eggs, everything else will taste like cardboard.”

It was extremely tempting, but I told him Achilles was waiting in the truck and that we had a full day ahead of us. “We’re gonna search the area behind Orange Way and see if Ty might’ve gotten lost in the woods.”

“You still haven’t found that boy?” he asked, rubbing his beard in thought.

“No, sir.” I shook my head. “I don’t know where he might’ve run off to. I’m starting to worry about him.”

Sam lifted a finger. “I tell you what, I’ll round up some of my hunting buddies who’re off work and we’ll head out to Orange Way and give you a hand searching those woods.”

I thanked him and headed outside, where I saw three young boys standing on the street corner waiting for the school bus. They were staring at Achilles. My dog’s head was extended out of the window and he was looking back at them, a curious expression on his face.

“What kind of dog is that, Mister?” asked one of the boys.

“It’s a wolf, isn’t it?” asked the other.

I smiled and stopped to rub Achilles’ head. “He’s a German shepherd,” I said. “Want to pet him?”

They all nodded eagerly and crossed the street. I gave Achilles an approving nod and he allowed his head to be roughed-up by the teens.

“He’s so big,” one of them said in awe. “Where can I get one like that?”

I told them about Mrs. DuPont—the woman who had given Achilles to me—and where to find her. “I’m not sure if she’s still raising pups, but if you can get one from her, you’ll be striking German shepherd gold.”

Before leaving, I asked if any of them knew Ty Richardson.

“Oh, yeah,” said one of them, “he’s that crazy guy who walks around town talking to himself.”

“Well, he’s not crazy,” I corrected. “He just suffers from mental problems. He’s a good fellow, a kind man.”

One of the boys, a sandy-haired kid who hadn’t said anything up to this point, stepped forward. “My uncle was talking about him to my mom and dad last night,” he said in one of the flattest Cajun accents I’d ever heard. “He said he saw him walking on his street early in the morning on Sunday.”

“What?” I asked. The kid now had my undivided attention. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded his head vigorously. “I’m positive. He said he saw that man named Ty walking on his street. He even showed my mom the picture in the free newspaper they throw in the yard.”

I asked him where he lived, and he pointed up the cross street.

“I live in the white house next to the blue house.”

“Is your uncle there?”

He shook his head. “He’s back at his house.”

“And where does he live?”

“On Camp Street,” the boy said. “On the east side.”

I had a sinking suspicion I might know who his uncle was, because he kind of favored the man. “What’s your uncle’s name?”

“Nikia Billiot.”

I scowled inwardly. That wife-beating piece of shit would make a horrible witness. To the boy, I only smiled and asked if his uncle still lived in the same place he’d lived a few years ago.

“Yes, sir, he’s in the same place.”

“And you said Nikia claims he saw Ty on Camp Street?” I asked, wanting to be certain. “On the east side?”

The boy nodded.

I thanked him and jumped into my truck. As I headed for the east side of town, I called Susan and asked her to hold off on her posse.

“I might’ve been looking in the wrong place,” I said. “I spoke to a kid who said his uncle saw Ty on the east side of town late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. And you’re never gonna guess who the uncle is.”

“Nikia Billiot,” she said without hesitation.

I jerked the phone away from my ear and stared at it in shock. When I put it back to my head, I asked, “How in the hell could you possibly know that?”

“I just called Lindsey to ask if any complaints were pending before I started rounding up volunteers, and she said Nikia called in with a tip about the missing man we were looking for.” She sounded amused with herself. “I told Lindsey I’d pass the info along.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” I said. “I’ll let you know if this pans out. It could be bullshit, knowing Nikia.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make contact with him?” she asked sadistically. “You know how he likes to beat women. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d try something stupid.”

“Maybe next time,” I said. “I need whatever information he might have. I’ve never known Ty to wander around on the east side, so this might be something worth checking out. It could explain why we haven’t found him yet.”

“And it could mean he accidentally killed his mom,” she reminded me. “Maybe he was trying to leave town and got confused, thinking the east side bridge was the Mechant Loup Bridge.”

“They look nothing alike.” I had just crossed the very bridge she had referred to and made my way to Camp Street.

“He was on meth, remember? There’s no telling what he was thinking that night.”

I couldn’t argue with her.

“I’m here,” I said, keeping a wary eye on the trailer as I pulled to one side of the street. “I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

Achilles gave me a sorrowful look, and I nodded.

“Okay, you can come,” I said. “Just don’t bite him