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Max smiled. “Probably.” He handed her the rifle. “I have my pistol, but I didn’t want to turn down the offer of the rifle. If you’re comfortable handling it, then I think it’s better if we’re both armed.”
Colette took the rifle and laid it across her legs. “I can handle it.”
The weight of the rifle across her legs provided a bit more feeling of security. She trusted Max to protect her to the best of his abilities, but sometimes the swamp offered up more than any one man could handle. If the legends were to be believed, the swamps of Mystere Parish could offer up more than a team of men could handle.
Max increased the boat’s speed and they continued down the bayou. The farther they progressed, the narrower the channel became until the trees from each bank met each other at the tops, creating a dark tunnel.
Colette blinked a couple of times, trying to hurry her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She scanned the bank as they went. She told herself she was looking for a sign of habitation, but Colette knew that deep down, she was hoping to spot Anna standing on the bank, alive and well and ready to go back to New Orleans and resume her new life again.
Ready to escape this dank tomb of moss and dead vegetation.
Max slowed the boat’s speed even more as the waterway became narrower and more clogged with debris. Decaying water lilies spread out in front of them, a cover of death over the still water. The smell of salt water, mud and rot filled the silent air. Only the hum of the boat motor echoed around them.
Even for the middle of the day, which was traditionally nap time in the swamp, it was too quiet. It was as if all living things had gone still in order to watch them as they moved deeper into the abyss. For a practical woman like Colette, it bothered her how unnerved she felt. One look at the grim expression on Max’s face let her know he wasn’t any happier with the situation than she was.
“Over there,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
She looked toward the shore where he pointed, and could barely make out a dock, hidden in the tall marsh grass. Max guided the boat over to the dock and inched it onto the bank.
“The dock doesn’t look too sturdy,” Max said. “We’re going to get our feet wet, but I don’t think stepping out on that relic is a good idea.”
“I agree,” Colette said and handed Max the rifle while she stepped out onto the muddy bank. She sank several inches in the soupy, black mud and felt mud and water ooze into her tennis shoes.
She took the rifle back from Max and plodded up the bank until she hit firm ground. “I hope we don’t have to run. I just added ten pounds of weight directly on my feet.”
“Yeah,” Max said as he stepped carefully out of the boat. “You can move slowly to minimize impact, but Louisiana mud is still going to claim a portion of your legs. We really weren’t prepared for this. We need boots.”
“Do you think we should have gone back for equipment?”
“No. We were already here, and the longer Anna is missing, the more likely something bad will happen. We can take a look around, and if we don’t find anything, we’ll come back tomorrow better prepared.”
“I guess we tipped our hand by coming here, right? If we’d left earlier, it would have given them all the time in the world to design stories and hide things. Assuming the locals are part of whatever Anna got into.”
“Yeah, but sending us on a wild-goose chase would give them the same opportunity.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. Danny could easily have sent us off in the wrong direction.” She sighed. “I would make a horrible criminal.”
“Fortunately for law enforcement, most people do.” Max scanned the brush and pointed just to the left of where they stood. “I think I see the trail there.”
He walked about ten feet into the undergrowth and paused, scanning the area again. “It’s definitely not well traveled, but I don’t see signs of another trail. This must be the one.”
Colette peered down the tiny path, but within a matter of feet, the dense undergrowth had swallowed up the tiny trail. She took a deep breath, trying not to think about all the things that could go wrong following this tiny trail into the unknown.
“You ready?” he asked.
“As ready as I’m getting.”
“Make sure you keep the shotgun handy, but stay close to me. The last thing we need is an accident with that gun.”
He pushed some brush aside and started down the trail at a steady pace. She swallowed, then clutched the shotgun and fell in step a foot behind Max. Far enough away not to bump into him but close enough that she couldn’t lift the shotgun and fire on him if panicked. He set a slow, deliberate pace, scanning the brush in front of them as well as the sides. The cypress trees clustered closer and closer together, reducing visibility to the equivalent of twilight.
She clutched the gun, tucking her arms as close to her body as possible. The dying bushes and brambles scratched her bare arms as they passed down the trail. When tiny rays of sunlight managed to slip through the canopy of trees, huge spiderwebs glittered.
“Watch overhead, will you?” he asked. “I’m casing the ground and scanning ahead and to the sides, but snakes may still be in the trees.”
Colette said a silent prayer as she looked up into the branches ahead of them. If a snake fell out of a tree onto her, the investigation would be over. She was certain she’d have a heart attack on the spot.
“If someone lives back here, why isn’t this path more worn?” she asked.
“Given that the dock was also falling apart, my guess is they have another way to get to the living quarters and have abandoned the old one.”
“Assuming anyone still lives out here.”
“Yep, which is questionable given that we don’t know if the source of the information is trustworthy.”
“How did you do this every day?”
“Ha. In all my years of police work, I never once tromped through a snake-infested swamp, but I assume that’s not what you’re asking.”
“No. I meant questioning people and trying to figure out what was the truth. Considering that everyone is probably lying about something, and trying to figure out whether it’s about something important.”
“I don’t know that it’s much different from what doctors do when diagnosing a patient. Basically, the symptoms are the answers, but some of the answers may be inaccurate or related to something else completely. Sometimes you have to track a symptom back to the root to determine it’s benign or unrelated to the bigger problem. It’s the same with answers.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Colette appreciated his take on her line of work. It was a perspective she hadn’t considered before.
The light dimmed suddenly, and Colette looked up through the narrow slit between the trees to see a dark cloud covering the sun. “Is it supposed to storm today?” she asked.
He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t.”
The last thing Colette wanted was to get caught out in the swamp in a thunderstorm. “How much farther, do you think?”
“I’m just guessing at distance, but we should be close.”
“Too close!” A burly man wearing overalls stepped out from the brush with a shotgun leveled directly at Max’s chest.
Chapter Five
“You’re trespassing on private property,” the man with the shotgun said.
An involuntary cry escaped from Colette before she could stop it. Max drew up short and put his hands in the air. Figuring it was a good idea, she followed suit, lifting the shotgun above her head. The man studied them, his finger never leaving the trigger.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Max said. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. Danny, the gas station owner in Pirate’s Cove, thought you might be able to help us.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “You got the stench of big city all over you, and the swamp ain’t no place for a woman lessin’ she was born here. What do you want?”
“We’re looking for Cache.”
The man’s jaw set in a hard line. “Wrong answer.”
“Please,” Colette said. “My friend is missing. She told me she was from Cache. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”
The man lowered his gaze to Colette and she reminded herself to breathe. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest under his scrutiny and hoped that her worry and sincerity showed in her expression.
“No one leaves Cache,” the man said.
“She told me she did. I’m not lying to you. I just want to find my friend. I’m afraid she’s in trouble.”
“If she’s from Cache, how do you know her?”
“She works for me at a hospital in New Orleans.”
“You a doctor?”
“No, sir. I’m a nurse. My friend is a nurse’s aide.”
“What does she look like?” he asked.
“She’s twenty years old and Creole. Tall, thin and has long dark brown hair. She usually wears it in a ponytail. Her favorite color is blue and she usually wore blue T-shirts when she wasn’t working.”
The man studied her a bit longer then nodded. “I seen a girl the other day that looked like that. It was a ways back in the swamp. There was a boat pulled up on the bank and she was walking into the trees. She wasn’t dressed right to be back here—no rubber boots—and I didn’t see a firearm.”
Colette’s pulse quickened. “Do you remember what day it was that you saw her?”
“Don’t have much use for time out here, but I reckon I’ve slept five nights since then.”
Friday.
Colette looked over at Max, not sure which direction to take their conversation next, especially as the man had yet to remove his finger from the trigger of the shotgun, much less lower it.
“Sir,” Max said. “The girl never returned home, and we’re afraid she ran into trouble. If you could just tell us where you saw her, we’ll be happy to get off your property and go look for her there.”
Finally, the man lowered his shotgun. “This swamp is a dangerous place for people that don’t know their way around.”
“I know,” Max said, “but we have to take the risk.”
“If the girl you’re looking for left Cache then tried to return, the risk may be a lot higher than you think.”
The man looked up at the darkening sky. “A storm’s coming. Maybe it will hold off until tonight or tomorrow, maybe not. But if you’re determined …” He pulled a knife from his pocket and cleared some brush away from the ground until only dirt was exposed. Then he began to draw a crude map and explain how to reach the area of the swamp where he’d seen Anna.
Colette watched as he drew one turn after another, and listened as he explained all the channels in the bayou that they had to navigate, and she grew more nervous by the second. Max studied the drawing, asking the occasional question, until finally, the man drew an X.
Max took a picture of the drawing with his cell phone. “Thank you for your help. My name is Max and this is Colette.”
The man nodded. “People call me ‘Gator. Ain’t got no given name that I know of. You run into trouble, tell them ‘Gator gave you directions. Most of the swamp people know me. It might buy you enough time to ask about your friend fore someone shoots you.”
Colette sucked in a breath and felt Max squeeze her arm.
“We appreciate the help, ‘Gator.”
“Good luck,” the man said, but his skeptical look told Colette that he didn’t expect them to succeed.
Before she could thank him, he spun around and disappeared completely into the brush. Colette stared into the undergrowth where he’d left the trail, but couldn’t see any sign of him. Nor could she hear him. No wonder he’d been on top of them before they knew it. It was as if he’d vaporized into the swamp.
“How did he do that?” she asked.
Max stared into the undergrowth and frowned. “Experience.” He started back down the trail to the dock and she fell in step behind him.
“The same experience the people of Cache will have,” she said.
“Yeah. They’ll know we’re coming long before we arrive.”
“Should we continue? Maybe we should go back for supplies or help or both—maybe an entire branch of the Marine Corps.”
He smiled. “That might appear a bit confrontational.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m scared to death of getting lost out here.”
“I have a plan for that,” he said as they stepped out of the undergrowth onto the muddy embankment at the boat dock.
He looked down the bayou in the direction ‘Gator had indicated. The foliage was even denser, the light fading as you progressed deeper into the swamp. “It’s everything else I’m worried about.”
Colette stared at the dimly lit bayou and bit her lip. She looked back at Max. “I didn’t pay you to risk your life. If you don’t want to do it, I’d completely understand. I don’t consider this part of the job.”
“No. You paid us to find Anna. This is where the trail leads. As much as I’d prefer to have equipment and a better boat, I don’t want to waste time returning to New Orleans to get it. I think we should take a look around. If we haven’t found anything in a couple of hours, we’ll return the boat and come back tomorrow better equipped.”
She looked up, studying the tufts of dark clouds that littered the sky. “And if it storms?”
Max glanced up and shook his head. “We’ll just hope that it doesn’t.”
She watched the clouds swirl across the sun. A chill came over her, and she hurried down the muddy bank to climb into the boat. The temperature must have dropped as the shadow covered her body. That was why she felt a chill.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
MAX PUSHED THE BOAT away from the bank and hopped inside. He started the engine and backed the boat away from the shoreline before turning it deeper into the bayou. The nagging feeling that he was missing something festered in the back of his mind, taunting him for his lack of clarity.
He’d ignored that feeling once before, and it had cost him his self-respect and almost his life.
This entire situation had been sketchy from the beginning, but his sexy sidekick had been the only bother he’d felt when he left New Orleans that morning. The further into the investigation he progressed, the more uneasy he became. He’d have rather Anna’s trail lead them to Alaska than the swamps of Mystere Parish.
He slowed the boat at the first corner and took a shot of the turn with his cell phone. Then he made a note to make a right turn when returning.
“That’s a smart idea,” Colette said. “As long as the battery holds.”
She tried to make the sentence light, as if she was making a joke, but the strained smile and the anxiety in her voice were a dead giveaway to Max. This had become much more than she’d bargained for when she’d strong-armed him into taking her along. But then, it had become more than he’d bargained for as well, so he couldn’t really blame her for her unease. As a nurse, she was trained to handle trauma, but not the kind of stress they were under now.
Still, most women would have already buckled under the pressure. None of the women he knew, except his sister-in-law, Alex, would be sitting in the boat with him, attempting to make a joke. Even his mother, for all her brass in the corporate boardroom, wouldn’t have managed five comfortable minutes in the swamp.
“It was fully charged this morning,” he said, hoping to reassure her, if only a tiny bit. “And I keep it plugged in while I’m driving. As long as it stays dry, we’re in good shape.”
