Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (11 page)

"Check for the turnoff to the cypress swamp, would you?
If I recall right, there's a grove of maples on the western shore just before
we're supposed to change course."

"Well," she replied, speaking with clearly forced
light-heartedness as she opened the journal to the dog-eared page, "I can
add something new to the map. 'X' marks the spot where Liz almost became a
power lunch for an alligator."

Zach grabbed for a cigarette. "Not funny, Liz."
Bracing the wheel between his elbows, he lit up, then goosed up their speed.
"Not funny at all."

* * *

They should have sighted her father by now, Liz thought. Not
long after encountering the alligator, they'd left the main waterway, and Zach
had soon given up his trust in the map.

"Who knows how long ago she drew it," he commented
at one point. "It could be years out of date."

Liz replaced the journal in her pocket and agreed that the
map didn't appear to be much good. The tour boat had superior speed, but they'd
been on the water over four hours and hadn't heard one other engine, even
though they'd followed the prescribed route. They'd already found themselves in
a bog so shallow, Zach had worried they'd run aground.

Somehow he'd managed to back out, and soon after, they headed
up a tributary that gave fairly easy passage. It turned out to be another dead
end, so here they were, turned around again, returning to the river to search
once more for the turnoff.

She hadn't remembered it being this hot in May. She'd taken
off the raincoat sometime back, and the sun had dried her shorts for the most
part. Though she'd tried to smooth back her wind-torn hair, she was pretty
certain it resembled a whisk broom.

Not that it mattered. Zach now spoke to her only for
informational purposes and looked at her even less often. Unfortunately, with
just twenty feet to roam, he was her only entertainment: Unless she wanted to
return to the journal.

Reading it simply made her heart too heavy.

She slanted a glance in Zach's direction. He'd slipped off
his windbreaker and unbuttoned his shirt, which flapped in the wind and bared
his chest. How different he was from Stephen, who was long and rather rawboned,
with a smooth chest that Liz suspected he shaved in conformance with the
current trend. Zach's body was
 
.
 
.
 
.
well, it was elementally male. And big. Broad shoulders. Hard, compact, chest.
Arms that looked as though they could snap a tree limb in half. She became
fascinated by how the light played on the sprinkling of golden hair that curled
on his chest to spiral down toward his jeans. Had his adolescent body shown the
pattern of the man to come? Had she dipped her hungry fingers in that mass and
followed it down to its sexual source?

She closed her eyes, trying to recall what it had been like
so long ago. She could almost feel the texture between her fingers; and very
vividly remembered the sweet hot thrill of stroking him. God, how intense their
love had been.

Her eyes snapped open. What was she doing? The Zach behind
the wheel of that boat and the Zach she'd loved then weren't even the same
person. The Zach she'd loved had been sweet, caring, and protective.

Still, the Zach sitting in the pilot's chair had done one
fine job of saving her from the alligator. But he was so cynical and moody now,
and he used his powerful charm to conceal a simmering anger that had exploded
when she'd been attacked. She didn't have to be a psychologist to know the
reason.

Why didn't he ask? The question was on his mind. It had to
be. She supposed she could explain, but somehow explanations seemed useless at
this late date. Leaning forward to flick a leaf off her leg, she turned toward
him, and somehow the words just rushed from her mouth.

"Yesterday," she began, "at the Cormiers,' it
started all over again. Everyone whispering about me, a little afraid,
wondering if I have powers they don't. It was almost as if I'd never left, you
know. There I was again, Ellie and Frank Deveraux's wild swamp child, heiress
to the guardian's throne."

She leaned forward earnestly, vaguely noticing the blank
look in Zach's blue eyes. They seemed bluer now, with the sky above and the
water below, and for an instant she was tempted to forget her stupid confession
and, just get lost in them. She wasn't even sure she was being truthful. Her
reasons way back then were so complex. But what else could it be? No other
explanation made sense. This she knew—the words straining to leave her lips
came from the depths of her heart. "That's all I would have been, Zach, if
I stayed. Mama and
Grandmere
were teaching me the spells—not that I was
any good at them—and Papa kept reminding me I'd be caring for the opal some
day. And at school the same kids who wouldn't speak to me on the bus caught me
behind the bleachers and asked me to tell their fortunes. I had to leave, Zach,
can't you see that?"

He still had that blank look.

"Well, can't you?"

"That was a long time ago,
cher
," he said
evenly, idly flicking his cigarette against an ashtray affixed to the console.
"I don't understand why you're telling me this."

Now Liz stared blankly. He didn't understand? She'd just
spilled out her guts, spoken words she suddenly realized she'd wanted to say to
him for so long. The last time she'd felt so foolish was when she'd been a
junior stockbroker at Schwab. She'd been invited to a company party, where
she'd enjoyed herself thoroughly. Someone kept filling the glass in her hand,
and before she knew it, she was in the middle of a group, telling an old Cajun
tale about how a rabbit tricked a fox out of the contents of a honey pot,
complete with colorful Cajun dialect.

Several years of speech therapy vanished in the wake of one
drink too many. She'd been teased about it for weeks, with people telling her
she was quite an actress. That close call made her vow to never drink too much
again .

"Right. A long time ago." She stood up and turned
away to hide her blazing cheeks. " I felt like talking about it, that's
all."

She caught his nod from the corner of her eye.

"It's going to start getting late." His tone
sounded softer but she probably was indulging in wishful thinking. "We
better start looking for a good place to pull in for the night."

"I'd rather wait till we get back to the river,"
she protested. She wanted this trip done with. More, she wanted to get away
from Zach and the feelings he brought up. "Maybe we can still catch Papa
today."

"We'll have a hard time finding a good anchor spot at
night." He pointed to the low-hanging sun. "Look."

Liz reluctantly agreed and started searching for a place to
pull in.

"Over there?" Liz pointed to their left.

"Nah, it's marsh. Look for high ground with some oak
and elm."

Soon they spotted a high point with the requisite trees and
grass. Zach eased the boat close to shore and anchored it. "We could take
the grill and a kettle," he suggested. "I'll catch some crawfish and
boil 'em up. How long's it been since you ate crawfish?"

"A while." She didn't add she normally avoided all
things Cajun because now the idea made her mouth water.

Zach unlatched the passenger gate and let the ramp fall to
shore, while Liz got out the charcoal and kettle and rummaged around for other
supplies and something to go with the crustaceans. She shoved everything into
one crate, while Zach gathered up the grill and a net, then put several bottles
of water in a bucket.

Soon he was lighting the charcoal, and Liz was filling the
kettle. By the time she began peeling potatoes and onions, Zach had taken off
his shoes and socks and was rolling up his jeans, preparing to wade into the
water with the net.

As she worked, Liz heard him let out an occasional
"Damn," and she smiled, knowing a crawdad had just gotten away.

When she finished peeling the vegetables, she settled back,
listening to the buzz and chirrups of the swamp at dusk and keeping an eye on
the kettle. Now and then, Zach let out a low cheer, and after Liz had heard
more than a dozen of them, he came back.

"Br'er Crawdad's all over the place out there," he
said, his spirits so high Liz wondered how often he'd dipped into his flask.
"Caught nearly two dozen of those suckers. A couple of 'em are over four
inches long. How's the fire coming?"

No matter where his good spirits came from, they were
contagious. Liz smiled and gestured to the grill. "The water's coming to a
boil and I'm about to put in the vegetables. 'Course we could eat the potatoes
half raw, the way we did when we were kids."

"Now she wants to go down memory lane." He said
the words mildly enough, but Liz still felt their sting.

"I tried to explain," she replied weakly.

"Yeah. Forget it,
cher
. I didn't mean
anything."

She started to say she was sure he did, but he put the
bucket down and replaced his socks and shoes, then stood up.
 
"I gotta go see the man."

He came back a few minutes later, looking weary. "Those
potatoes coming along?"

"They're ready for the crawdads."

He went to the bucket and examined his catch. "Think
this will be enough?" he
 
asked so
morosely it sounded as if he were about to boil his best friends. "Maybe I
should have caught more."

"They're fine, Zach, just fine."
 
He crouched beside the kettle, poking the
potatoes to see how done they were, then dipped in his back pocket.

She got up, collected some paper, and told Zach she was
going to find her own potty place before it got too dark. He nodded and opened
the flask. As Liz walked away she
 
saw
him take a drink.

Lord, oh Lord, it was going to be a long night.

When Liz got back, she heard water bubbling and saw Zach
stirring the pot with a
 
wooden spoon.
He'd taken out plates and plastic utensils, which were stacked beside
 
him, and had also carried the crate with the
charcoal and water bottles back to the
 
boat.

"Won't be long." His tone was now upbeat.
"Sun's setting real fast, so I got out the lantern in case it gets dark
before we eat."

Putting her hands on her hips, she paused to stare at him.

"If you don't stop doing this Jekyll and Hyde thing, I
don't know how we'll finish this trip."

He grinned at her, showing not a trace of remorse. "You
aren't the first woman to say
 
that." He returned to stirring the crawfish. "Wanna come over
here and help me serve?"

She went to his side and bent for a plate. "Do you ever
do anything to control your
 
moodiness?"

Zach shook his head gravely. "Nope. I'm
incorrigible."

Liz couldn't help smiling. "Should I be grateful Dr.
Jekyll's back then?"

Zach laughed. "Liz, I doubt you've ever been grateful
for anything. But I forgive you.
 
Are you
ready for this crawdad stew?"

She crouched beside him. "I'm going to shock you, Zach.
By saving me from the
 
alligator, you've
earned my undying gratitude." She winked then, and stuck out her
 
plate. "Now dish up my meal,
manservant."

With the grin still on his face, Zach scooped out the
crawfish, dividing them equally
 
between
them. When Liz said he'd given her too many, he should take more, they
 
argued about it briefly, with Zach finally
giving in and taking a larger portion. While they divvied up the potatoes, he
nonchalantly asked, "Who's Stephen?"

"My partner. We have a small investment office."

"You are a stockbroker then. I thought so."

"Of sorts. Stephen and I work alone, not for a firm. He
does an investment letter, too, but I just
 
trade stocks, bonds, and commodities."

He chugged some catsup on his plate, then set it on the
ground, while he dished up
 
the onions.
"Is that all there is between you two, a partnership?"

"Yes." Liz oddly felt as if she was lying. She and
Stephen had been involved briefly, but there had been so little ardor, just
many shared interests and a genuine respect for
 
one another. Finally they'd agreed they made great business partners,
but a romance wasn't in the cards. Shortly after, Stephen started dating a
redheaded runner from the
 
exchange
floor, and for a while she was all he could talk about. Now that was ardor.
 
Or so she'd thought at the time, while
enduring hours of Stephen's copious praise of his
 
flame-haired paragon.

"And you never married?" he went on to ask.

"No, but I know you have. Mind if I ask what happened?
From what I heard at Cormier's, I assume you're single now."

He nodded. "As Richard pointed out, they all left
me." His voice again took on that cynical edge. Then, in a fonder tone he
continued. "But I can't complain about the first
 
two. They gave me my kids. Zettie's the
oldest, she's in college now, and my son, Chet, plays high school football. Too
bad Carol's none too fond of me. If not for that, Chet and
 
I would get along a whole lot better."

"And Zettie?" Liz cocked her head.

"Things are just fine with her. Rita's her mom, and we
made our peace a long time
 
ago." He
patted his pocket. "She gave me this flask. First Christmas after we
were
 
married."

He dropped a few onions on Liz's plate. "Better eat up
before those crawdads get cold. Sure wish we had some Jax to drink with
this.
 
It'd go down real smooth."