Babe in the Woods

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“Now to find evidence of that would be valuable information. Monetarily valuable information.”

“Even more valuable would be to find the fountain of youth,” Dru teased. “Can you imagine? You could charge five dollars an ounce and become a gazillionaire overnight.”

“Not me. Aurelia and Marcus,” Rebecca reminded him. “I’m just the hired help and I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with Brett about that artifact.”

Joey touched Rebecca’s arm. “Brett said it was wrong to give the old bowl to the Indian,” Joey said. “He said he wasn’t going to do it.”

Rebecca felt a flush touch her cheeks. Brett talked big, but when it came time to yield up the artifacts, he would do so. He was a troublemaker, but he wasn’t an idiot. Still, she didn’t like the fact that he made her look foolish in front of people. He constantly challenged her authority and her decisions.

“I wouldn’t put a lot of stock in what Brett says,” Rebecca said easily. “All talk, no action.”

She cleared the table and then served the orange sherbet she’d bought.

“Cool,” Joey said, grinning. “Maybe I could grow some oranges.”

“Maybe,” she said because she didn’t know if he could or not. The Natchez winters could get pretty cold.

“Strawberries might be better,” Dru suggested.

“Yeah, strawberries.” Joey stood up, his bowl empty. “I’m going to draw out some beds for strawberries. I know just where to put them.”

He hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Dru and Rebecca alone. Together they cleaned up, working as a team as though they’d been doing it for years.

“Shall I walk you home?” Dru asked once they’d finished. His question sounded as if he was about fourteen years old.

“Only if you carry my books,” Rebecca replied.

Chuckling softly, they left the apartment and started walking down the drive to the old caretaker’s cottage. Rebecca was hyperaware of Dru. Though he didn’t touch her, she felt electric.

The night was magnificent. Pale moonlight filtered through the old oaks draped with Spanish moss. There was a soft murmur, which Rebecca took to be the river. Around them the night had fallen silent, peaceful, serene.

They were almost at the caretaker’s cottage, both still silent, when the sound of a crying baby seemed to come from nowhere—and everywhere.

“Go inside,” Dru said softly, indicating the caretaker’s cottage. “Lock the door, Rebecca.”

“But—”

“No buts. Someone’s out here.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, suddenly aware of the gun that had materialized in his hand.

“No, stay inside and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

He wasn’t asking her, he was telling her. She slipped away from his side, over the porch and into the cottage. She knew enough not to flip on the light as she watched Dru disappear into the shadows of the trees, a shadow himself, but one moving fast and holding a deadly weapon.

MORE THAN DANGER, Dru felt total aggravation. He had no doubt that Randall Levert was behind all of this. Randall. A total idiot. The man had skated out of prison because of his willingness to rat out his partner. Now that he’d gained his freedom, he should be smart enough to stay away from Blackthorn and his foolish pranks.

Dru slipped into the woods. It was almost impossible to tell what direction the crying was coming from. Sound echoed and reverberated against the huge old trees. Pausing to listen, he thought he heard someone running fast through the underbrush.

He gave chase, ignoring the tiny limbs that whipped against his arms and face. He kept his attention focused solely on the sounds of the running person.

He thought he’d lost the runner, but then he heard a twig snap to his right. The intruder was much closer than Dru had thought. He bolted right just as someone ran out from beneath a huge wild magnolia. The bright moonlight came through a hole in the canopy of tree limbs, illuminating the runner’s pale shirt.

“Police!” Dru called. “Halt! Police! Stop, or I’ll shoot.”

Damn! The guy took off sprinting again.

Dru turned on the speed, his own body skimming over the fallen limbs and trees and tangle of briars. He’d been a long-distance track runner in high school, and he’d kept up his running habits as part of his regimen. Although the woods were an aggravation, he could see that he was gaining on the man.

“Halt!” he called again. “I’m going to shoot.”

When the man gave no indication of slacking his pace, Dru shot. There was an explosion of bark just above the runner’s head and the man came to a screeching halt. By the time Dru got to him, he was standing with his hands over his head, his chest heaving.

The crying of the baby had ceased.

“You’re under arrest for trespassing, among other things,” Dru said as he walked up and patted the man down.

“I’m not trespassing,” the man said. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sheriff Dru Colson, and you’re under arrest. These woods are private property. They’re also not the place for foolish practical jokes involving crying babies.”

“I know, man, that nearly freaked me out. But I’m not trespassing. I work for Brett Gibson. I’m his dig coordinator.”

Dru frowned and stepped back. “You’re what?”

“The dig coordinator. At a dig, a lot of different sites get going sometimes. Someone has to coordinate all the levels, mark all the artifacts that are dug up and generally make sure the different strata of the dig are marked and examined. You know, it’s happened before that someone planted valuable artifacts in a mound, hoping to claim some kind of government benefit. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Dru hesitated. The man sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. But it didn’t make sense that he’d run. “Why did you run?”

“Man, I thought you were the dude who’s been sneaking around. I was trying to get ahead so I could ambush you and tackle you, but you were too fast.”

“What’s your name?”

“Winston West. Folks call me Double-U. Uh, can I put my hands down now? I’ve got identification in my pocket.”

“I can’t see it here anyway,” Dru said, motioning him to put his hands down. “We’ll go back to camp and see if Brett will vouch for you.”

“Good idea, man. I was afraid you were gonna plug me full of holes.”

Dru cast a glance back through the woods. He’d caught the man he was chasing, but it didn’t seem to be the right man. Dru had the distinct sense that someone was watching him. Watching and waiting for an opportunity to do something bad. Something that would certainly harm Rebecca.

“Did you see anyone else in the woods?” Dru asked.

“No. I just came over here to, you know, relieve myself. We’d been drinking a few beers. Anyway, I heard that baby. I almost jumped out of my pants. So I started running towards the sound, thinking it was a real baby. Then I got to thinking a real baby would be exhausted and stop crying, even for a few breaths. So then I decided to try to find whatever was playing the sound. That’s when I heard you and I thought you might be the guy responsible. Like I said, I meant to run ahead of you and find a place to set up an ambush but you were too fast for me.”

“This story had better check out,” Dru warned him.

“Hey, man, I’m cool. Ask Brett.”

Dru did just that, and Brett confirmed everything Winston West had said.

“There’ve been a series of accidents around Blackthorn,” Dru said loudly enough for Brett and those of his assistants who were around to hear. “My suggestion to all of you is that once night falls, stay in the campsite. Stay where other members of your party can see you. If you need an alibi, then you’ll have one.”

“An alibi for what?” Brett asked. “What are you implying about me and my men?”

“Not a thing,” Dru said softly. “I’m just giving you a tip, Gibson. Take it or leave it, I don’t care.”

“You should be chasing down whoever started that crying-baby noise,” Brett said irritably. “Instead, you’re courting Rebecca and harassing my workmen.”

Dru didn’t miss the fact that Brett, despite the way he spoke to Rebecca, seemed jealous of anyone else’s attention to her. Well, stranger things had happened.

“Where is the artifact you dug up today?” Dru asked.

“Has she told everyone? Ms. Barrett would do well to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

Dru felt a flash of anger. Brett was an egotist and an ass. Dru took a deep breath and forced the anger out of his voice. “Where is the artifact?”

“In a very safe place,” Brett said.

“Where?”

“In my tent,” Brett said finally and with great reluctance. “No one goes in my tent.”

“May I see it?” Dru asked, knowing that he’d get an argument. Brett was just that kind of man.

“You have no need to see it. It won’t mean a thing to someone uneducated in—”

“Show it to me,” Dru said levelly.

“If you insist!” Brett led the way to his tent. He went inside and in a moment, there was the sound of an exclamation. “No!” he cried, coming out of the tent in a rush. “It’s gone.”

“Gone?” Dru asked, his gaze narrowing on Brett’s shocked expression. He didn’t trust Brett as far as he could throw him. It occurred to him that the entire crying-baby thing could simply have been a diversion for Brett to steal the artifact so he didn’t have to give it to John Ittawasa.

“It’s gone!” Brett snapped. “Do something. You’re the law around here. Do your job. Take some prints. Find out who stole that vessel.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Dru said, starting to walk away. “Don’t go in that tent and don’t let anyone else near it.”

“What are you going to do? Where are you going?” Brett demanded.

“To call for backup and to check on Rebecca.” He picked up his pace. He suddenly had a very bad feeling that he shouldn’t have left her.

CHAPTER FIVE

REBECCA LISTENED to the sound of the wailing baby and wanted to cover her ears. It was far worse in reality than it had been in her imagination when Aurelia had told her about it. Even though Rebecca knew it wasn’t a real baby but some type of recording, it didn’t stop the haunting sadness of the sound.

Why would Randall Levert be such an idiot that he would return to Blackthorn and try to play the crying-baby scam again? The obvious answer was that Randall had gone over the deep end. His mother had been murdered on Blackthorn property by his own partner, a Realtor named Yvonne Harris. Where Yvonne had been sentenced to prison for murder, Randall had turned state’s evidence against her and had gotten himself a deal from the prosecutor. His involvement in the crime had been minimal—trying to frighten Aurelia away from Blackthorn. Randall was as much a victim of Yvonne as Aurelia had been. Maybe even more since he’d lost his mother to Yvonne’s greed.

All of that said, it made Randall’s determination to scuttle around Blackthorn even more creepy. He was unbalanced, and in a way that boded only ill for her and her project. But Dru would handle it. She thanked her lucky stars for the lawman, realizing that the baby’s cries had ceased.

For a moment her thoughts slipped to Dru Colson. He was almost the antithesis of what she’d come to imagine a Mississippi sheriff might be. Of course, she did have an active imagination! But Dru was calm and deliberate. Handsome in a lean, athletic way. He was a man who’d taken up the badge not because he wanted the power but because he’d been asked. And asked again. He was young to bear the load of responsibility he shouldered, but he seemed born to it.

That was an interesting phrase. Born to it. Funny, but when she’d first met Aurelia Agee, she’d instantly known that Aurelia had been born to be heiress of Blackthorn. After five minutes of conversation with Aurelia and Marcus, Rebecca had been able to hook on to their vision and dream of what Blackthorn was in the past and what it could be in the future.

Aurelia had been able to convey that vision to Eugene Batson and his brother Roy, and together they’d come up with a house plan that was going to dazzle the architectural world. It was a heady time for Rebecca, spoiled only by some nutcase running through the woods with a taped recording of a crying baby. It would be funny if only someone hadn’t attacked Joey and injured him. Concern for Joey made her start toward the door.