Waters Run Deep (17 page)

Nate laughed, breaking the tension. He looked over at Annie. “He does realize we’re not moving yet?”

“Instant gratification is his middle name.” Annie glanced over her shoulder. “First we have to actually drive, Spence.”

“Oh, yeah. I know,” he said, waving to Picou as Nate backed out of the drive.

Annie pointed to the dashboard clock, which read 8:58. “See this number?”

Spencer nodded.

“When it gets to…” She glanced over at Nate.

“10:35,” he said.

She quirked an eyebrow. “When it gets to 11:00, we’ll be there. Now here are your crayons, activity book and iTouch. Make yourself busy.”

She passed the bag back to the child and watched as he pulled the iPod touch out, put on the headphones and started flinging birds at pigs on the small screen.

She faced forward and adjusted the seat belt as Nate turned onto the highway. They drove for several minutes, reaching the quaint town of Bayou Bridge with its plethora of antiques stores, coffee shops and occasional Acadian restaurants. Five minutes later they were heading south down Highway 31 toward the interstate. The landscape along the road changed constantly from wooded swampland to sweeping pastureland, giving way to periodic moss-draped marshes. Once they hit the interstate, the scenery blurred and the smoothness of the ride briefly lulled Annie into sleepy contemplation.

“I shouldn’t be long in Galliano,” Nate said, pulling her from watching the horizon.

“Okay,” she said, wanting to ask his purpose for going to wherever it was they were heading.

“I have to do a quick interview with someone and get a DNA sample then we can take Spencer on the airboat ride.”

“Fine.”

He pulled his gaze from the broken yellow line and looked at her. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

She felt the doubt in his eyes even though she stared out at the rushing scenery. The air thickened and she tugged at the top buttons of the cotton blouse she wore. She didn’t want to talk about what happened last night. Maybe if they didn’t talk about it, they could pretend it away.

“This doesn’t feel okay.”

She turned toward him. “What do you want me to say?”

One hand dangled over the steering wheel and she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore. He looked exactly what he was—smart, sexy and unreadable. “I don’t know. Something besides ‘sure’ and ‘okay.’ I’m feeling like a dentist here.”

“A dentist?”

“Pulling teeth.”

She shook her head and glanced back at Spencer before lowering her voice. “What we did was crazy and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want that bit of lunacy to define everything between us now.”

“But it does.”

“But it doesn’t have to. We’re both professionals who lost all good sense last night along with a few choice pieces of clothing.

We screwed up. It won’t happen again. End of story.”

“But—”

She threw a hand up. “No buts. I don’t want to feel like a damn ticking time bomb. Please.”

He nodded. “Fine.”

She crossed her arms. “Good.”

Annie angled the vents away and tried to find some inner peace deep inside herself. Her abuela had once told her she could find calm in the middle of a storm merely by snatching a piece of stillness from her soul, but at that moment, Annie could find nothing to make things better.

“So tell me about this case. Why do you have to go so far? Shouldn’t the authorities there be able to do the sample for you?”

She didn’t miss the tightening in his shoulders. “Nothing much to tell. This is an old case and more of a personal issue.”

Personal issue? DNA testing? Questions tumbled around in her mind, but she remained silent.

He glanced her way. “So you want to tell me about your case?”

She straightened. He knew. Well, of course he did. He wasn’t stupid. “I think you already know about my case.”

Nate’s lips curved north. Good Lord, the man was sexy when he smiled. Her libido did a little dance, but she kicked it back into the closet. She knew he’d suspected her as something more than a generic caregiver since the moment he’d met her. Time to come totally clean…and hopefully get some help with the threat to the child.

Annie sighed. “You’re not stupid. I know you went digging for info on me the night after we met, and you didn’t find anything. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Annie Perez should have had a trail a mile long. You probably blew right past that phony Nevada real-estate site.”

Nate glanced her way. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, I hope you don’t think I’m in on a kidnapping plot.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he said, gliding into the fast lane, passing a line of eighteen-wheelers laden with pipes and industrial tools. The signs around them told her they were close to Morgan City. The travel book she’d read on Louisiana several weeks ago had told her the small city was the hub of the oil industry in the state.

She tore her gaze from the evidence that proved the guide true—heliports, shipyards and tool yards—lining either side of the interstate and looked at him. “So what are you thinking?”

“You could be someone running away from an abusive boyfriend, a crime you committed, or debt, but I don’t think that’s the reason you’re hiding who you are.”

He looked at her again, the pause an invitation for her to spill, but she didn’t take the bait. She wanted to know his thoughts.

“You remain calm when others don’t. You’re logical, assertive when needed, but good at fading into the background and observing. Extremely fit, highly analytical and you know the lingo, so I’m betting on one of two things. Either you’re a federal officer and this is far more serious than what I’ve been led to believe or you’re a P.I.”

Annie raised her eyebrows. The man was good, at many things, but it was obvious he made the grade as an investigator. He was young for a detective, especially one who’d attended medical school. She still wanted to find out about that little tidbit, but she had enough on her plate with the current topic. “Whatever I tell you needs to remain confidential.”

“Of course.”

“I mean ‘between you and me’ confidential.”

He slid his eyes over to her. “Lots between you and me that will remain confidential, cherie.”

“Touché,” Annie murmured, getting a slight tingle at the traditional Cajun endearment on his lips. She glanced back to make sure Spencer still wore his earphones. He did, but they weren’t necessary, not if his bobbing head and soft snoring were any indication. “I’m both. Kind of.”

She paused, unwilling to reveal she’d left the bureau because she’d taken a chance on love. Sounded, well, stupid. “My name is Anna Mendes, but my mother called me Annie. I’m formerly with the FBI. Recently employed by Sterling Investigations and Security in Los Angeles. Actually, protecting Spencer is my first assignment for the firm.”

“FBI, huh?” Nate said, crossing a large bay-like canal and continuing farther south. “I can see that. Why’d you leave?”

“Personal reasons. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is I’m working on this case, same as you.”

“So why not tell me in the first place? Why all the subterfuge? We could have saved a lot of time.” His voice held a tinge of irritation.

She sighed. “Why do you think? I’m supposed to be undercover, Nate.”

“But why not tell me?”

She glanced over at him. Okay, he seemed peeved. “I didn’t know you. Didn’t know how you would react. You do know how law enforcement treats private investigators?”

He shrugged. “Like conspiracy theorists.”

“That well?” Her laugh was bitter. But she understood. Most private investigators were overweight guys who couldn’t hack it in law enforcement. Their chief bread and butter came from peeping out from behind bushes catching cheating spouses for divorce attorneys. Most law-enforcement agencies avoided them like week-old liverwurst. But the standard P.I. was very, very far away from the sophisticated powerhouse that was Sterling Investigations.

“Yeah, I get it, but if you would have told me earlier we’d have already compared notes and made better progress.”

“I didn’t trust you.”

“And you do now?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Now I do.”

She didn’t want to explain why she trusted him. Didn’t understand it herself since it usually took months before she’d even tell a coworker her coffee preference. But something about Nate—the way he handled everything carefully, dependably and intelligently

—had her blindly placing her faith in his hands. Of course, he’d tossed away last night…just as she had.

Last night had been out of character.

And a grave mistake.

She felt Nate’s eyes on her, so turned and met his gaze. “I hope you can trust me, too, Nate. This isn’t about me or anything that’s happened between us. This is about that little boy. I have to keep him safe and find out who’s playing these games with the Keene family.”

Nate nodded, his emotions shuttered, his game face in place. “Is that what you think? Merely someone playing games?”

“That’s what it feels like, but people who use a child like Spencer as a tool of fear can be capable of more than threatening letters. Hollywood division was dismissive, but Carter felt it was more than some random freak show and hired us to protect Spencer. The college student who took care of Spencer had been let go, rightfully so—she got caught sexting with her boyfriend when she was supposed to be minding Spencer. It was the perfect opportunity to slip me in and give me a cloak of cover to poke around.”

She almost laughed as he silently muttered, “Sexting?” before shaking his head. “So what have you found?”

“Not much.”

Spencer yawned and kicked the seat. “Annie, are we there?”

Annie turned back to Spencer. “Almost. Not far now.”

The boy rubbed his eyes and yawned again. A seldom-used “aww” button inside her beeped. The boy was supercute, especially when he was sleepy, still and very quiet.

“I’m thirsty.”

The “aww” button shut down. “You want a juice pack?”

He shook his head. “No. I want chocolate milk.”

Flashbacks of vomit and roadside gas stations hit her. “Apple juice or water. Which do you want?”

“I don’t. I want chocolate milk.”

Annie sighed and counted to ten. “You’re not having milk. We’re not stopping. Juice or water.”

“No!” Spencer screamed. “No, no, no!”

Nate’s hands tightened on the wheel, but he didn’t look over at her. She quickly flipped through the latest parenting book in her head. How to handle a meltdown in public. Was this public? Not really. And she couldn’t leave the area. No place for a time out.

She was on her own.

“You’re acting like a baby,” Annie said.

Spencer kicked. “I’m not a baby. I want chocolate milk! Gimme it!”

Another deep breath. Another count to…almost ten.

“If you don’t stop pitching a fit, we’re not going on the boat ride.”

Annie’s words stopped the fit-pitching cold. Legs stopped, screeching stopped and Spencer’s mouth fell open. “No, no, Annie.

I want to go on the boat. Please.”

“Then stop acting like a baby.”

“I’m not a baby. I’m five.”

Annie saw Nate smile. “You’re acting like you’re two.”

“Okay,” Spencer said. “Gimme the juice.”

She leaned over the console, rummaged around in the bag and pulled a juice from the small insulated bag. She looked at Nate.

“Is this okay? I don’t think he can spill it.”

The man eyed the box and punch-through straw and finally nodded his head. “He spills, you clean.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered, handing the drink to the child and turning back around. “I’m starting to think those parenting books are full of shit.”

“You’ve got game,” Nate said with a smile. “I would have rather picked through garbage than masquerade as a nanny.”

“Says the man who could be the father of my child,” Annie said before realizing the implication of her words. Nate actually swerved across the yellow line before correcting.

“Hell, don’t say things like that,” he said, throwing her a desperate look.

“Sorry, it slipped,” she said, turning and looking out at the flat yellow grasses reaching as far as the eye could see. The only elevation came when they rose above industrial canals cutting a swath through the delicate ecosystem. “I—I think we shouldn’t think about that little possible mistake.”

“I thought so, too,” he drawled. “So don’t. Today we’re going to enjoy the land—”

“—and see some alligators!” Spencer finished for him.

“And see some real, live alligators,” Nate repeated, closing the subject and setting the tone for the day. “But we need to talk later.”

He gave her a purposeful look, and though Annie felt mixed-up crazy about Nate, she knew she’d done the right thing telling him the truth. Perhaps together they could pull a suspect and get some closure for the Keene family.

NATE HADN’T BEEN DOWN Lafourche Bayou in many years. Not since the redfish trip he took with Abram and a few other coaches when his brother first took the job at ULB. Shrimp boats bobbed on the side of the bayou where two highways hugged the banks.

Businesses and modest houses clung to the highway in an unusual pattern of living. Periodic lock bridges invited residents to cross over to the other side to visit friends or other businesses. They passed bakeries, gas stations and the occasional warehouse. Spencer squealed in delight at each boat.

“Here comes a tug boat,” Nate commented as they sat waiting on one of the lock bridges that had opened for the boat to pass.

“I know what tug boats do,” Spencer said, craning his head and watching the boat. “They push barges.”

“Very good,” Nate said, enjoying the joy the child took in the simple pleasure of watching boats work. Annie didn’t look as thrilled, but she nodded in agreement.

After the bridge closed, he rolled over to the other side of the bayou and started looking for Galliano Elementary School, where Sally Cheramie taught second grade. His heart thumped a little harder in his chest despite his mind telling him this was no big deal, that the woman who had started asking questions was likely not Della, but someone who’d come across a similar blankie when she was small, someone who had two parents who were not Picou and Martin. But his heart didn’t listen to his head, mostly because the hope that had nestled deep inside for so long had awoken and climbed out of its hiding place.