“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Colette appreciated his take on her line of work. It was a perspective she hadn’t considered before.
The light dimmed suddenly, and Colette looked up through the narrow slit between the trees to see a dark cloud covering the sun. “Is it supposed to storm today?” she asked.
He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t.”
The last thing Colette wanted was to get caught out in the swamp in a thunderstorm. “How much farther, do you think?”
“I’m just guessing at distance, but we should be close.”
“Too close!” A burly man wearing overalls stepped out from the brush with a shotgun leveled directly at Max’s chest.
Chapter Five
“You’re trespassing on private property,” the man with the shotgun said.
An involuntary cry escaped from Colette before she could stop it. Max drew up short and put his hands in the air. Figuring it was a good idea, she followed suit, lifting the shotgun above her head. The man studied them, his finger never leaving the trigger.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Max said. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. Danny, the gas station owner in Pirate’s Cove, thought you might be able to help us.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “You got the stench of big city all over you, and the swamp ain’t no place for a woman lessin’ she was born here. What do you want?”
“We’re looking for Cache.”
The man’s jaw set in a hard line. “Wrong answer.”
“Please,” Colette said. “My friend is missing. She told me she was from Cache. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”
The man lowered his gaze to Colette and she reminded herself to breathe. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest under his scrutiny and hoped that her worry and sincerity showed in her expression.
“No one leaves Cache,” the man said.
“She told me she did. I’m not lying to you. I just want to find my friend. I’m afraid she’s in trouble.”
“If she’s from Cache, how do you know her?”
“She works for me at a hospital in New Orleans.”
“You a doctor?”
“No, sir. I’m a nurse. My friend is a nurse’s aide.”
“What does she look like?” he asked.
“She’s twenty years old and Creole. Tall, thin and has long dark brown hair. She usually wears it in a ponytail. Her favorite color is blue and she usually wore blue T-shirts when she wasn’t working.”
The man studied her a bit longer then nodded. “I seen a girl the other day that looked like that. It was a ways back in the swamp. There was a boat pulled up on the bank and she was walking into the trees. She wasn’t dressed right to be back here—no rubber boots—and I didn’t see a firearm.”
Colette’s pulse quickened. “Do you remember what day it was that you saw her?”
“Don’t have much use for time out here, but I reckon I’ve slept five nights since then.”
Friday.
Colette looked over at Max, not sure which direction to take their conversation next, especially as the man had yet to remove his finger from the trigger of the shotgun, much less lower it.
“Sir,” Max said. “The girl never returned home, and we’re afraid she ran into trouble. If you could just tell us where you saw her, we’ll be happy to get off your property and go look for her there.”
Finally, the man lowered his shotgun. “This swamp is a dangerous place for people that don’t know their way around.”
“I know,” Max said, “but we have to take the risk.”
“If the girl you’re looking for left Cache then tried to return, the risk may be a lot higher than you think.”
The man looked up at the darkening sky. “A storm’s coming. Maybe it will hold off until tonight or tomorrow, maybe not. But if you’re determined…” He pulled a knife from his pocket and cleared some brush away from the ground until only dirt was exposed. Then he began to draw a crude map and explain how to reach the area of the swamp where he’d seen Anna.
Colette watched as he drew one turn after another, and listened as he explained all the channels in the bayou that they had to navigate, and she grew more nervous by the second. Max studied the drawing, asking the occasional question, until finally, the man drew an X.
Max took a picture of the drawing with his cell phone. “Thank you for your help. My name is Max and this is Colette.”
The man nodded. “People call me ’Gator. Ain’t got no given name that I know of. You run into trouble, tell them ’Gator gave you directions. Most of the swamp people know me. It might buy you enough time to ask about your friend fore someone shoots you.”
Colette sucked in a breath and felt Max squeeze her arm.
“We appreciate the help, ’Gator.”
“Good luck,” the man said, but his skeptical look told Colette that he didn’t expect them to succeed.
Before she could thank him, he spun around and disappeared completely into the brush. Colette stared into the undergrowth where he’d left the trail, but couldn’t see any sign of him. Nor could she hear him. No wonder he’d been on top of them before they knew it. It was as if he’d vaporized into the swamp.
“How did he do that?” she asked.
Max stared into the undergrowth and frowned. “Experience.” He started back down the trail to the dock and she fell in step behind him.
“The same experience the people of Cache will have,” she said.
“Yeah. They’ll know we’re coming long before we arrive.”
“Should we continue? Maybe we should go back for supplies or help or both—maybe an entire branch of the Marine Corps.”
He smiled. “That might appear a bit confrontational.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m scared to death of getting lost out here.”
“I have a plan for that,” he said as they stepped out of the undergrowth onto the muddy embankment at the boat dock.
He looked down the bayou in the direction ’Gator had indicated. The foliage was even denser, the light fading as you progressed deeper into the swamp. “It’s everything else I’m worried about.”
Colette stared at the dimly lit bayou and bit her lip. She looked back at Max. “I didn’t pay you to risk your life. If you don’t want to do it, I’d completely understand. I don’t consider this part of the job.”
“No. You paid us to find Anna. This is where the trail leads. As much as I’d prefer to have equipment and a better boat, I don’t want to waste time returning to New Orleans to get it. I think we should take a look around. If we haven’t found anything in a couple of hours, we’ll return the boat and come back tomorrow better equipped.”
She looked up, studying the tufts of dark clouds that littered the sky. “And if it storms?”
Max glanced up and shook his head. “We’ll just hope that it doesn’t.”
She watched the clouds swirl across the sun. A chill came over her, and she hurried down the muddy bank to climb into the boat. The temperature must have dropped as the shadow covered her body. That was why she felt a chill.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
* * *
M
AX PUSHED THE BOAT
away from the bank and hopped inside. He started the engine and backed the boat away from the shoreline before turning it deeper into the bayou. The nagging feeling that he was missing something festered in the back of his mind, taunting him for his lack of clarity.
He’d ignored that feeling once before, and it had cost him his self-respect and almost his life.
This entire situation had been sketchy from the beginning, but his sexy sidekick had been the only bother he’d felt when he left New Orleans that morning. The further into the investigation he progressed, the more uneasy he became. He’d have rather Anna’s trail lead them to Alaska than the swamps of Mystere Parish.
He slowed the boat at the first corner and took a shot of the turn with his cell phone. Then he made a note to make a right turn when returning.
“That’s a smart idea,” Colette said. “As long as the battery holds.”
She tried to make the sentence light, as if she was making a joke, but the strained smile and the anxiety in her voice were a dead giveaway to Max. This had become much more than she’d bargained for when she’d strong-armed him into taking her along. But then, it had become more than he’d bargained for as well, so he couldn’t really blame her for her unease. As a nurse, she was trained to handle trauma, but not the kind of stress they were under now.
Still, most women would have already buckled under the pressure. None of the women he knew, except his sister-in-law, Alex, would be sitting in the boat with him, attempting to make a joke. Even his mother, for all her brass in the corporate boardroom, wouldn’t have managed five comfortable minutes in the swamp.
“It was fully charged this morning,” he said, hoping to reassure her, if only a tiny bit. “And I keep it plugged in while I’m driving. As long as it stays dry, we’re in good shape.”
“Then I’ll leave off praying for the cell-phone battery and just pray for no rain.”
He waved one hand out toward the bayou. “It’s going to be slow going. With all the water lilies, I can hardly see the surface at all. I’m afraid to move too fast in case something is submerged.”
“I understand.”
She faced straight forward on her seat, scanning the banks on each side of them. She was saying all the right things, but Max could see the tension in her back and neck as she looked for any sign of Anna or the village.
He’d been surprised that ’Gator had given them information so easily. Granted, he’d held a gun on them long enough to form an opinion, but usually swampers were very protective of each other. Maybe seeing the girl was so odd that ’Gator knew something was wrong, too.
Or maybe he was sending them right into a trap.
’Gator had made it clear that no one left Cache, and Anna had told Colette that she’d been directed never to return. If Anna had dared to leave and now dared to return, the people of Cache wouldn’t be happy to see her. And that sentiment would extend to anyone looking for her.
He checked the picture of the map on his cell phone and steered the boat left into a tiny cut. The cypress trees were so thick with moss that they blocked all but the tiniest ray of light from entering. Max squinted in the dim light, trying to keep the boat in the middle of the narrow channel, where he’d be less likely to hit the knotty roots of the trees that grew underwater and claimed many propellers.
“Colette, check in that bench you’re sitting on and see if there’s a flashlight.”
She rose from the bench and lifted the lid. She dug around in it for a minute or so and emerged with a weather-beaten flashlight.
“It doesn’t look like much,” she said and pressed the button. It flickered then went out. She tapped the side of it with the palm of her hand and it flickered back on.
“Better than nothing as long as it holds,” she said.
He nodded. “Go ahead and turn it off for now to conserve what’s left of the battery. We’ll need it more once we’re onshore.”
She clicked off the light and closed the bench storage, but no sooner had she sat down than she popped back up.
“I saw something out there.” She pointed to the left bank.
Max cut the motor and looked where she pointed. “Something moving?”
“I’m not sure. It was a flash of light color—one that didn’t belong.”
Max removed an oar from the bottom of the boat and paddled them slowly backward, scanning the swamp. The bank here didn’t slope up from the bayou. Instead, the roots of cypress trees made up the embankment, creating a swirled, knotted patchwork of wood that lifted the ground two feet above the water.
Max scanned the ground past the cypress roots and located what had caught Colette’s eye. It was a patch of light color on the ground in the dense undergrowth. One of the few thin rays of sunlight that managed to breach the cypress trees was shining right on it. Otherwise, he doubted it would have been visible at all.
He paddled the boat up to the bank and removed his pistol from his waistband. “Stay here and have the shotgun ready. Remember, the shot will scatter. If you have to, shoot as far away from me as possible.”
Colette’s eyes widened and she lifted the shotgun into her lap, holding it with both hands, ready to fire if necessary.
Max scanned the bank for predators then climbed up the roots and onto the ground above the bayou. He inched slowly toward the object, watching and listening for any sign of life, of movement. About ten feet from the object, he realized it was light blue cloth.
…she usually wore blue T-shirts.
His heart caught in his throat as he recalled Colette’s description. Abandoning all caution, he rushed through the brush, his heart dropping when he saw the motionless body of Anna Huval.
She was slumped over on her side, her back to Max. Her clothes were torn and dirty, her shoes caked with mud. Scratches ran up her arm, dried blood still clinging to her skin. He squatted down next to her and placed his fingers on her neck, Colette’s certain devastation the only thing on his mind.
He felt a pulse!
Faint, but she was still alive. Gently, he rolled her over and immediately locked in on the purple lump on her forehead. There were no obvious breaks or gashes, so he
gently lifted her up and slowly made his way back to the bank.
“Max,” Colette called out. “Is everything okay?”
“I found Anna,” Max said as he stepped onto the bank above the boat and looked down at Colette. “She’s hurt but still alive.”
“Oh!” Colette’s hand flew up to cover her mouth and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I can’t believe it.”
Max looked up and down the embankment, trying to find a lower place to climb into the boat. “Lift the motor,” he instructed Colette, “and use the cypress roots to pull the boat down the bayou to that low spot.”
Colette almost leaped into the back of the boat and then lifted the motor so that it hovered above the roots that could damage it beyond functionality. Then she grabbed the cypress roots and pulled the boat to the low spot in the bank that he’d indicated. Carefully, he stepped into the boat with Anna and gently placed her in the bottom, where Colette had already placed a life jacket to support her head.
Any doubts he’d had about Colette’s ability to handle the situation were erased in a moment. With the injured girl safely in the boat, she immediately shifted into professional mode, checking Anna for injury, looking at her eyes, taking her pulse, inspecting her mouth.