Waters Run Deep (22 page)

“Do I have to wear my floaties?” Spencer asked, his voice muffled by the cushions. He lay flat on his mother in sweet contentment.

“No, it’s not a pool. Just fun things to splash in.”

Annie rose and stretched, waggling a hand toward Spencer. “Let’s go up and set your things out before we have supper. Miss Lucille’s back from visiting her family and Picou told me she made her famous gumbo for supper. I can’t wait to try it.” And hopefully have time to call Ace and let him know this new development. They needed better background on Jane and Annie needed to get inside the woman’s hotel room and search it. But how?

Hmm. Maybe a shoulder to cry on…or rather rant on. Maybe she’d take some gumbo as a peace offering. The sooner the better. Like that very night.

* * *

That’s all he’d gotten with this case. A big fat zero.

“It’s time to get tough with these assholes,” Wynn said, plucking a well-chewed toothpick from his mouth and tossing it in the metal trash can.

“We don’t know what assholes to get tough with. No leads.”

“Bullshit. There’s something, somewhere, and we’ve been too dumb to find it. Or distracted.”

Nate felt himself bristle. Yeah, he’d been distracted but no more so than any other case. Big gray eyes flitted into his mind. He loved the way her eyes looked dilated with pleasure.

Wynn slapped a file on top of several others, jarring him from his musings. Maybe Wynn was right. Maybe Nate couldn’t handle the investigation properly because he was in lust with the nanny.

“Maybe, but it’s hard to get excited over a decaying rotisserie chicken with no prints, no trace evidence, nothing. Annie didn’t see anything before she got knocked out except a blur. So did you pick up knowledge on how to identify a printless, clean-as-a-whistle blur when I wasn’t looking?”

Wynn tented his fingers and studied him. “Are you banging this nanny?”

Nate tossed the report on his recently cleaned-off desk. “That’s none of your business.”

“She’s a suspect. A nice piece of ass, I’ll give you that, and kudos for actually pulling yourself away from those boxes in your house, but she could be in on this.”

“So she gave herself a concussion to cover up her involvement?”

His partner shrugged. “I’ve seen stranger things.”

Nate shook his head. “No, she’s not in on this.”

Wynn played with the pencil cup on his desk. “Fine. Make sure you don’t let getting tail color your judgment.”

“I’ve never allowed a woman to color my judgment. Annie’s not making these threats, and she’s not a piece of ass. She’s—”

He stopped because he wasn’t sure what she was.

Wynn glanced up. “Look. No problem. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than you and the nanny. We need to bust something loose, so I say we head over to that movie set and scare something up.”

“With who?”

“Let’s start with Mick. I’ve heard from too many people that the creep has the hots for Tawny. I say let’s bring him down here.

Make him jumpy. He’s such an arrogant asshole, he’s bound to give us reason.”

Nate shrugged. “Worth a try. But first, we need to go by the Quick Mart and check out the alibi for our perp in that robbery case. If it doesn’t check out, I’ll give Harvey the green light to charge him so we can put that case away. Then Keene asked for a briefing.”

Wynn stood. “Since when did you start kissing people’s asses, Dufrene? You running for office next year?”

No. He wanted to check on Annie, and running down the leads with Keene was an excuse to see her. God, he really was starting to act like a pathetic schoolboy. Annie didn’t need him to take care of her. She was more than capable of taking care of herself even if someone had knocked her black-and-blue and taken her gun… So maybe not. Maybe Annie needed him, if only a little bit.

He hadn’t reported her gun stolen because he didn’t want to blow her cover. No need for a nanny to tote a gun. If she stayed undercover, she stayed safe. She’d been an accidental target the other night. An incidental for someone who hadn’t wanted to be discovered.

He hoped the stolen gun didn’t come back to haunt him.

Nate grabbed his own piece from the desk drawer and told Wynn explicitly how he could kiss his own derrierre. The words weren’t fit for polite society, but the bull pen had never offered anything remotely in the way of polite conversation.

* * *

Spencer was in his jammies, happily making Play-Doh food with the gift that was supposed to be mailed to his cousin in Arkansas the next morning. But Annie didn’t care that poor Braden wouldn’t get his gift. Tawny and Carter were pretending to eat the food and looking much more agreeable to one another—and Annie was free for the evening.

“You think that’s going to make her feel better about her nose?” Picou asked, when she pushed through the swinging door and caught Annie filching the gumbo.

She shrugged. “It was the best stuff I’ve ever tasted. Gotta do something for her.”

“Why are you being nice to her?”

Annie turned around and set the container in a plastic bag along with several pieces of French bread and a slice of Lucille’s famous buttermilk pie. “Because she was nice to me. Invited me for drinks several nights ago, and I ended up getting a headache and bailing on her after only an hour. I feel bad, I guess.”

“Kinship?” Picou asked, folding some napkins and grabbing a bottle of tea. She placed them in the bag beside the gumbo.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a single gal. Doesn’t seem to have a family or many close friends, working for the Keene family.”

Annie cocked her head. “Do I seem pathetic to you?”

Picou’s words had slammed her. She knew her life wasn’t ideal. Did the older woman have to point that out?

“Not at all. I merely see similarities. Not physically, of course, but your aura is often bright yellow as if you’re deeply stressed or insecure. Other times it’s brown as if you are guarding yourself.”

Annie almost snorted. “Well, thanks, but I’m not unhappy with my life.”

The older woman arched a brow.

“Okay, so I’m not exactly jumping up and down thrilled with it, but I’m trying to get there. Maybe that includes doing something nice for someone.” Or maybe it was snooping around so she could get this case solved and get her tail back to L.A. But even as she thought it, she knew she wasn’t sure about going back. Part of her wanted to stay here under the lacy Spanish moss brushing the green grass. Under the Louisiana stars with the infernal mosquitos and unbearable heat. With Nate. With Picou. With an unnamed future child with brown eyes and corkscrew curls.

She was delusional. She shook her head and swallowed the craziness with a swig of water.

Picou didn’t say anything. Instead she picked up a note pad. “I called Della today.”

Annie looked up. “You did?”

“Nate has been so preoccupied. He was supposed to call her again today, but didn’t have time. I know he’s busy and that this is about Spencer, but I just want to hold my little girl.”

“What did you say? How did she take it?”

“I pretended to be a salesperson.” The older woman smiled. “I had to at least hear her voice. She sounded so different. She has that bayou accent.”

Annie watched as Picou scratched loops across the paper. She tied the handles of the plastic bag together and placed it in a larger handled paper bag. “She is from down there.”

Picou looked up. “I think she knew it was me. She acted like she didn’t know, but there was something fearful in her voice.

She’s scared of me.”

Annie shook her head. “No, but her world has been turned upside down. You will have to give her time. That’s what Nate’s trying to do. Give her a little space.”

“But I need to see her. Touch her.” Picou dropped the pen and stared out at the night. It was nearly eight o’clock. The sun had run away leaving a blanket of darkness behind.

“You’ll get there,” Annie said, picking up the rental car keys from the counter by the back door.

Picou’s voice was heavy with tears. “I hope.”

Annie set the bag on the counter and did something so uncharacteristic she shocked herself. She walked to Picou and wrapped her arms around her. “You will.”

Picou held tight to Annie. Her arms were bony and strong and the silver braided hair at her shoulder smelled like lemons. Annie couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged another woman, but she knew this was right. For both of them. Something sweet and warm invaded Annie’s heart as she gave Picou a final squeeze. Something that reminded her she was innately human and needed the healing touch as much as Picou did.

“Thank you, sweet Annie,” Picou said, using her index finger to wipe the dampness from beneath her haunting violet eyes. “I needed that.”

“So did I,” Annie said, picking up the keys and bag she’d abandoned. She lifted the shopping bag in toast. “Two good deeds in one night. I’m earning points somewhere.”

Picou smiled and gave her a thumbs up. “You’re earning your wings, kiddo.”

Annie slipped out the door, feeling vaguely satisfied at having done something heartfelt. It had been a while since she’d tossed her reservations aside and acted on what her heart had urged.

She looked down at her flat stomach and remembered.

Scratch that.

Five days ago, she’d listened to her heart. Or was that her libido?

She set the bag on the passenger seat and started the car. Time to put her emotions away and her thinking cap on. She needed to find out if Jane had been leaving the threats, and if she had, Annie would find out.

Nothing stopped Annie when she was ready to break a case, and as she gingerly touched the purple bruise on her cheek, she decided she was past ready.

MICK MANNERS WAS definitely an ass.

But Nate kind of liked him. Like recognized like, he guessed.

“So you’re taking me in because I bought a chicken at the store? I’m doing a high-protein diet thing to slim down from my role on Lost in Laos, and my assistant had the stomach flu so I had to go myself. Look, I regret it. Do you know how many people wanted my autograph? One lady who looked about fifty years old asked if I would sign her bra.”

“Can it,” Wynn said, grabbing the man’s arm and forcefully steering him toward the unmarked car.

“This is bullshit,” Mick growled. “I’ll have your asses handed to you on a silver plate.”

“I’ll make sure to shower. Wouldn’t want anyone ogling my derriere on a silver plate if I hadn’t cleaned up proper like,” Wynn said, unlocking the car and opening the back door. “You can come quietly, like we’re good friends taking a ride, or we can cuff you and book you for resisting arrest.”

“Whatever,” Mick said, sliding into the car and slamming the door.

“That went well, don’t you think?” Wynn said, looking over top of the car at Nate.

Nate grunted and slid into the passenger’s seat. Normally, he drove, but Wynn had sensed the deep anger brewing in him after their perp in the robbery case’s alibi panned out, and had insisted. He’d also requested Nate try playing good detective with Mick while he played the role of bad cop extraordinaire. That had lasted for all of ten minutes. Nate hadn’t lost it on Manners, but he’d come close a few times.

“I want my attorney.”

“I want you to shut the hell up,” Nate responded, turning down the static on his handheld. “Then I want you to think hard about what is about to happen. About what your adoring fans will think when they hear you’re threatening a five-year-old boy just because his mother won’t let you play on her playground.”

“What?” Mick rattled the cage between the seats. “You guys are effin’ crazy.”

“No, that’d be you, bud. You’re the one displaying dead birds and writing freaky poetry.”

Mick Manners reared back against the seat. “I can’t believe this shit. This is like—”

“—in the movies?” Nate finished for him.

“Yeah. Dirty cops looking to pin something on someone so they can grab the limelight and say they solved a case.”

Nate slid his gaze to Wynn. His partner smiled. He loved this sort of drama. “We can keep that from happening if you’ll tell us why you did it.”

“Why I did what? I didn’t do anything.”

Nate shrugged and flipped the lights on the dashboard. They were out in the boondocks, but he felt Mick’s panic.

“Okay, fine. I have a thing for Tawny. I always have. We dated before either of us broke into the business, and I fell for her.

She’s sweet and her ass is as tight as a schoolboy’s.”

“And you know about schoolboy backsides?” Wynn tucked a toothpick in his mouth.

“No, man. I don’t swing that way,” Mick said with a derisive laugh. “Sometimes I wish I did, then I could get Tawny and her amazing tits outta my mind.”

“Right,” Wynn said.

“So I’ve been flirting with her. Keene has been so wrapped up in business. I saw Tawny’s sadness. Nothing easier to pluck than a lonely chick. And this was a chick I liked to pluck, so I gave her some attention. Tried to make it more than friendly, but she’s stuck on Keene. She was just using me to make him jealous. I might have been okay with it if she’d given me some action, but I got nothing but blue balls.”

“So did that drive you to write poetry? Threaten her son?”

“Hell, no. I ain’t that damn desperate, man. I can bag chicks on the set to ease my pain, you know. I may be a shit sometimes but I don’t mess with no kids. And I’m not screwed up in the head enough to kill birds. I ate a damn chicken, man. That’s it. I threw the carcass out a few days ago.”

Nate knew he told the truth. They’d stretched it when they grabbed hold of the fact he’d eaten a chicken a few days ago. Hell, half the department picked up chicken at Maggio’s Supermarket—both fried and rotisserie. Nate made a loop with his finger. Wynn jerked the car hard to the left and spun around on the empty blacktop.

“Damn!” Mick yelled, banging against the bars separating them. Nate smiled because Wynn lived to pull stunts like that.