Waters Run Deep (30 page)

Shit, it hurt. Teri knew where to hit. But what had she used to hit her? A gun? A bat? Darkness spotted her vision, but she fought it off.

No time to think.

Move.

Annie bounced on the mattress and came up swinging. Her fist landed right in the middle of Teri’s windpipe. Yeah, Annie fought dirtier.

“Argh.” Teri gasped for breath, clutching her throat. Annie saw her mouth open and close, desperately trying to drink in a breath. She fixed on Annie with pain-crazed eyes before reaching behind her, withdrawing a gun from her waistband.

Instinctively, Annie crouched, launching herself at the woman’s knees. Get low. Center of gravity. She used her left hand to sweep above her, hopefully colliding with Teri’s right arm, the hand most people used to shoot with. Annie heard the gun clink against the bureau at the same time Teri crashed into the ancient TV stand. They both went down.

“Get off me!” Teri shrieked, thrashing beneath her. Annie rose, going for the gun, which had landed at the foot of the bed.

Spencer stood pressed against the wall, eyes big, knees bleeding. A keening emerged from his throat.

Teri’s hand opened and closed, searching for the gun, but she wasn’t faster than Annie. Annie’s hand closed around the grip before the woman could scramble close enough. Annie kneed her hard in the stomach and rolled to her knees, fixing the gun on the woman, aiming for a body shot.

Teri stilled.

“Get up. Show me your hands.” Annie’s voice was cold. She felt the surge, felt the confidence in the training, the experience.

She had control of the situation.

“He’s my nephew. I wasn’t gonna hurt him. I just wanted the money. I swear.”

“Hands up where I can see them. Now.”

Teri raised her hands. “See? See?”

Annie nodded, but kept the gun steady on the thin woman. It was her first close look at the woman who resembled Tawny, just rougher, desperate and jacked up on something. Teri’s thin hands shook.

Annie heard the squeal of tires outside the motel room. Help had arrived. “Sit on your bottom, cross your legs, keep your hands where I can see them.”

Teri did as she was told. Maybe she wasn’t too dumb. “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I—”

“Shut up.”

Annie heard a crash, then Nate appeared at the connecting door to the room, gun drawn, expression fierce. His eyes surveyed the room, processed the situation. She returned her gaze to the woman in front of her.

“I screwed up, Nate.” She kept her eyes on Teri. “She made me while I sat in the car, doubled back and ambushed me.”

Spencer continued to whimper. Each sound pricking between her shoulder blades a confusing need.

“Go to him. I’ve got her,” Nate said, reading her like he’d done so many times before. Annie lowered the gun, her thumb sliding against the safety, securing the weapon. She dropped back, her butt connecting with the thin mattress. She reached over and set the gun on the nightstand and went to Spencer.

He’d plugged his fingers into his ears, but his eyes were wide. She’d seen enough victims to know he was in shock. There were things one did for victims, but he was not any victim. He was her Spencer. She gently tugged his fingers from his ears.

“Shh, shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

She could hear Nate behind her, cuffing Teri, reading her the Miranda, along with a few other choice words that normally would have made her smile. But she had no smile left in her. Only an unfathomable need to hold the child in front of her. She didn’t understand it, but it had to be done.

“Baby,” she murmured, folding him into her arms, easing him onto the bed. His fingers clutched at her.

“Annie, Annie,” he said over and over.

“Shh,” she whispered against his hair. He smelled like sweaty little boy, a very welcome scent.

Annie had done many things in the aftermath of a takedown. She’d laughed. She’d felt the power, the rush, embraced it. She’d even delivered a gut jab to a man who’d grabbed her boobs, but she’d never sat on a bed with a terrified child, rocking him and loving him.

And for the first time in her life she did something on the job she’d have been horrified to have witnessed.

She cried.

She couldn’t stop herself. Her heart had overridden her brain. So the tears came, mingling with the sweat and, perhaps, even a bit of Spencer’s snot. She didn’t care—because it was something she’d had no control over, that sweeping feeling of absolute love.

She’d forgotten how much it hurt, bittersweet in its ripping at the soul, absolutely raw and splendid.

So she didn’t stop it. Just held on to Spencer and the ironic beauty for a moment.

Finally, she glanced up at Nate.

He had Teri face down on the ground, cuffed and still. He knelt, pressing the woman down, but his eyes were on Annie.

Annie shook her head, but didn’t move to wipe the dampness from her cheeks. She felt slightly embarrassed by her lack of control, absence of professionalism.

But the expression in Nate’s eyes washed over her and all unease faded. Suddenly, it wasn’t about love for Spencer. It was about those same emotions stirring for the man with his knee in the back of the woman who’d started this whole crazy journey.

“I’m so sorry,” she mouthed, tucking Spencer’s head beneath her chin.

Nate gave her a quasi smile. “Ah, Annie, you’re killing me.”

* * *

NATE SIGNED OFF ON Teri’s arrest and sought the sanctuary of his cleared desk. A Windows icon bopped around on the screen, the stack of files stared at him and the phone was silent.

Same desk. Different man.

When had he changed?

Was it the discovery of his sister? Or falling for the nanny who wasn’t really a nanny?

Both?

“Good day, eh?” Wynn sank into his chair and rubbed his face. “I’ve got statements from the folks out at the Feast Day festival.

No problems there. Padre said tents are packed up, bills settled and trash cleared. He also said you’d have to chair the activities for the children next year since you bailed.”

“To catch a kidnapper.”

Wynn shrugged, chewing on his customary toothpick. “Just what he said.”

Nate shook his head and shoved a file toward his friend. “Here are the reports. Hand them back when you need signatures.”

“Shit,” Wynn moaned, staring at the thick file. “You’re joking, right?”

“You’re the one who offered.”

His friend frowned. “Me and my big mouth.”

“I wouldn’t talk about Kelli that way when she’s standing right behind you.” Nate waggled his fingers at Wynn’s pregnant wife. Kelli shot him a particular finger.

“Why didn’t you tell us the nanny was on our team?” she said, lightly tracing the shaggy hair on the nape of her husband’s neck. “Didn’t have a clue myself. Guess I suck at being a detective.”

Wynn visibly relaxed into his wife’s caress. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Need to know basis.”

“Humph,” Kelli snorted. “Like we can’t keep stuff under wraps.”

Nate merely stared at Kelli. She blinked first and turned her gaze from his.

“Talk about conflict of interest,” Wynn said, focusing his attention on the pages within the file he’d opened. He thumbed through them, his frown growing more pronounced the further he progressed.

“How so?” Nate asked.

Ever inquisitive, Kelli cocked her head. “Yeah, how so?”

Wynn shrugged. “He’s been sleeping with her.”

“Get out,” Kelli said, tweaking her husband’s hair. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

Nate didn’t say anything. What could he say? It was the truth. Kind of. They weren’t sleeping together, only had sex. Once.

Still, to admit any sort of relationship other than secretly professional seemed wrong. Like a breach in confidentiality. Easier to say nothing.

Kelli studied him with bright blue eyes. He didn’t shrink under the duress of her probing gaze. Nor did he blink. Finally, she wagged a finger. “I knew something was different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. You’ve been distracted, but I thought it was the case. Now I can see things clearly. She’s awfully pretty, but I just don’t see it. Too much alike.”

“And that’s a problem why?” he asked.

Kelli shook her head. “Don’t you know anything? Opposites attract because they balance each other out. Look at me and Wynn.”

“You’re both annoying. Doesn’t that count as a similarity?” He crossed his arms and glared at them. “In all seriousness, you don’t know her, so how can you make a judgment about how well we’d suit?”

Her brow crinkled. “Oh, wow, you really like her, huh?”

Wynn’s steady gaze joined that of his wife’s. “Uh-huh, he’s probably practicing writing their names together. Mr. and Mrs.

Nathan Briggs Dufrene. Aww.”

“You know my middle name?” Nate spun around in his chair, grabbed his gun and pulled a protein bar from his desk drawer.

He ripped the package with his teeth and pocketed his keys.

Kelli’s mouth hung open. Wynn grinned. “Oh, man. You got it bad.”

Nate didn’t bother looking back as he strolled out of the detective’s bull pen. “Don’t forget I need that paperwork on my desk by Monday. Have a good weekend.”

Then he left the office to the sound of his friend’s colorful phrasing. Somehow, though his life was tangled like the line on both his fishing rods, he felt okay. A bit as if he’d popped free of the spot where’d he’d stuck all those years ago. For so long, he’d been weighted down, unable to move, by the guilt and responsibility in his life. But now, he felt different. Maybe life could be something other than Bayou Bridge, Beau Soleil and the Sheriff’s Department. Maybe he could be a different Nate.

And maybe he could get Annie to stay.

Or maybe he could go with her.

The thoughts piled up in his mind.

What if… What if…

He had some thinking to do. Then he had some action to take. No more sitting still, waiting for life to pass him by while he twiddled his fingers on the front porch.

Della had been found. Spencer was safe. And Anna Mendes was meant for him.

He just had to convince her.

ANNIE WALKED SLOWLY along the unpaved drive of Beau Soleil, reveling in the coolness of the breeze enveloping her. The moon sat low in the sky, orange and mysterious, lighting the way for her evening walk. The day had been overwhelming, and she needed some very alone time to process everything that had occurred.

She shook her head to start the process. Beginning with the emotional homecoming of Della Dufrene and ending with the apprehension of Tawny’s sister, the entire day had been dipped in crazy and laced with danger.

And then there was Nate.

Her emotions skydived into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know what to do about him. She’d fallen for him, but…

The thought floored her.

Yeah. Anna Mendes had fallen in love for the absolute first time in her existence, and it was impossible.

The heavy oak branches swayed in the gentle evening breeze almost in harmony with what stirred inside her.

Hell. She had no recourse. No direction. No real hope or promise of anything from Nate. Not to mention she could be having his child. Possible. But not probable. She knew her body and was nearly certain she’d start her period in a week. Her boobs didn’t lie.

But that didn’t solve anything with her heart.

The old cemetery appeared when she rounded the corner. It stood in stark contrast to the soft blue of the darkening sky, jabbing with rusted pronged posts and weathered stones, reminding the living of lives once well spent…or perhaps misspent. An owl hooted, bringing mysticism edged with creepiness to the hallowed ground. Annie stopped before the gate.

She unlatched the handle, expecting the stereotypical creak, but the gate swung open effortlessly. Of course. The expected didn’t happen at Beau Soleil, did it?

Picou’s words from the first day still haunted her. What seems benign can sometimes bite.

“Annie?”

His voice carried over her shoulder like a caress. She turned and there he stood, the planes of his face harsh in the light of the harvest moon.

She didn’t reply, only watched as he walked toward her, his footfalls crunching in the gravel and dry leaves.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She lifted a shoulder. “Nothing in particular. You?”

He lifted a finger and stroked her cheek. His eyes held words unspoken. Worry, befuddlement and, dare she hope, love. “I worried about you.”

“Did you?”

He held her gaze but didn’t answer.

She turned from him, too afraid to allow him to see into her soul, and pointed to the crypt. “What do you suppose Henry Laborde wanted out of life?”

She stared at the engraved marble. Another similar in style sat directly beside it, two hearts overlapping etched into the faded stone. Henry David Laborde’s loving wife, Emily Ann.

“He wanted what every man wants. A roof overhead, food in his belly, a baby at his knee, a woman in his arms.”

“That’s it?”

“What more is there?”

She jerked her gaze to his. “Love?”

“That, too, I suppose.”

Both fell silent, the night cloaking them in intimacy, accompanied by the woodlands at night. Annie walked among the tombs, reading the names, feeling her heart wrench at the tiny cherubs perched above the names of infants and children. Here was a family who gasped first and last breath at Beau Soleil—living, laughing, sobbing their way through life.

She paused before the tomb of Martin Briggs Dufrene.

Nate appeared at her shoulder. “My father,” he said.

“How did he pass?”

“Heart. I was in my last year of med school at Tulane when Mom called me from Baton Rouge. He died before I could get there.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “My father was a hard man and expected a lot from people, including his own family. He could be an absolute son of a bitch, but I knew he loved us. I tried to take care of things for him. Felt he wanted me to see to Mom and take care of the estate. That’s why I declined my residency.”

She didn’t say anything. She’d sensed Nate felt he stepped in the footprints of his father, but she didn’t see him that way at all.