“Once he found out what I knew or decided I didn’t know anything at all, he still would have tried to kill me. And he’ll try again, because he didn’t get the answer he was looking for.”

Max clenched his hands, not willing to think about another attempt on Colette’s life. “He’ll have to come through me to do it. We didn’t know how far he’d carry things before. We know now and we’ll be more prepared.”

“But how? We’re sitting ducks. He can just sit in the swamp and wait for us to leave.”

“I’m working on that. Just try not to worry about it. When I’ve worked everything out in my head, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

Lightning flashed, and he peered into the darkness, trying to ferret out any sign of movement. Any sign that the shooter had returned. He couldn’t see anything.

But he knew something was out there.

About the Author

JANA DELEON grew up among the bayous and small towns of southwest Louisiana. She’s never actually found a dead body or seen a ghost, but she’s still hoping. Jana started writing in 2001 and focuses on murderous plots set deep in the Louisiana bayous. By day, she writes very boring technical manuals for a software company in Dallas. Visit Jana on her website, www.janadeleon.com.

The Vanishing
Jana DeLeon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my recently married friend, Leigh Zaykoski.

May you and Phil have your own happily ever after …

Prologue

November 1833

The young Creole man pushed open the door on the shack and sat on a chair next to the bed. The fifty-seven-year-old Frenchman lying there wasn’t much longer for this world. The only thing keeping him alive was the news the Creole would bring.

“Have you found my son?” the Frenchman asked, then began coughing.

The young Creole winced as the dying man doubled over, his body wracked with pain. “Wi.”

The dying man straightened up, struggling to catch his breath. “Where is he?”

The Creole looked down at the dirt floor. He’d hoped the man would be dead before he returned to the village. Hoped he’d never have to speak the words he was about to say. Finally, he looked back up at the man and said, “He’s dead.”

“Nonsense! They’ve said I’m dead now for over a decade. Bring me my son!”

“Somethin’ bad went through New Orleans last year that the doctors couldn’t fix. A lot of people died.”

The anguish on the dying man’s face was almost more than the Creole could bear to see. “You couldna done nuttin’,” he said, trying to make the dying man’s last moments easier.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, but there was nothing here for him—hiding in the swamp for the rest of his life.”

“You did what you shoulda. You couldna known.”

The dying man struggled to sit upright. “I need for you to do something else. Something even more important.”

The Creole frowned. “What?”

“Under this bed is a chest. Pull it out, but be careful. It’s heavy.”

The Creole knelt down next to the bed and peered underneath. He spotted the chest in a corner and pulled the handle on the side, but it barely budged. Doubling his efforts, he pulled as hard as he could and, inch by inch, worked the chest out from under the bed.

“Open it,” the dying man said.

The Creole lifted the lid on the chest, and the last rays from the evening sun caught on the glittering pile of gold inside. He gasped and stared at the gold, marveling at its beauty. All this time, the Frenchman had been sleeping over a fortune. The Creole stared up at the man, confused.

“It’s cursed,” the dying man said. “I stole it, and now it’s taken my son and my life from me.” The dying man leaned down, looking the Creole directly in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll never let the gold leave that chest. It will bring sorrow to anyone who spends it. You must keep it hidden forever. I’m entrusting you and your family with this task. Do you understand?”

The Creole felt a chill run through him at the word curse. He didn’t want to be entrusted with guarding cursed objects, nor did he want that burden transferred down his family line.

“Promise me!” the dying man demanded.

But the Creole knew he was the only one in the village who could be trusted to keep the gold hidden. The only one who could be trusted to train those who came after him to respect the old ways. To respect vows made.

“I promise.”

Chapter One

The fall sun was already beginning to set above the cypress trees on Tuesday evening, when Colette Guidry parked her car in front of the quaint home in Vodoun, Louisiana. An attractive wooden sign that read Second Chance Detective Agency was already placed in front of a beautifully landscaped flower bed, but the sounds of hammering and stacks of lumber on the front lawn let her know that the office conversion wasn’t exactly complete.

She reached for the door handle and paused. Maybe this was a bad idea. She’d worked with Alexandria Bastin-Chamberlain, one of the partners at the detective agency, at the hospital in New Orleans before Alex resigned to open the agency with her husband. She shouldn’t feel self-conscious about asking for her help.

But what if Alex thinks you’re crazy, too?

And that was at the crux of it. The rest of the hospital staff and the New Orleans Police Department had already informed her that her concern over her missing employee was misplaced. Anna Huval had a history of skipping town with undesirable men and usually surfaced when the disastrous relationship had run its short course. Colette had intimate understanding of choosing the wrong man, although her choices hadn’t been near as wild or frequent as Anna’s. But her two disappointing whirls with noncommittal men had given her enough sorrow to be sympathetic to Anna’s heartbreak, even if it was self-induced.

But all that was in the past. With Colette’s guidance, Anna had turned her life around, and for the past six months, she had been on a path that guaranteed her a healthy, successful future. The only problem was no one believed it would last, and Anna’s disappearance was a signal to many that she’d relapsed into the behavior that was so familiar to her.

Colette understood exactly why people felt that way. Logically, it was the best explanation, and if Colette hadn’t gotten to know Anna so well, she would have bought completely into it, also. But despite the lack of evidence of something dire, and a seemingly logical explanation for what had happened given Anna’s past, Colette knew something terrible had happened to the young nurse’s aide.

She pushed the car door open and stepped out. The detective agency specialized in situations the police wouldn’t handle—giving concerned friends and family a second chance for answers. Anna’s disappearance fit that description. If Alex and her husband, Holt, didn’t think her case had merit, then they’d tell her, and that would be that.

The door to the agency was partially open, so she pushed it a bit farther and stuck her head inside. Alex stood talking to a contractor in the middle of what was probably going to be a reception area once it had paint, flooring and furniture. As the sunlight crept in through the open door, her former coworker looked over and waved when she saw Colette.

“Did you come to take my temperature?” Alex asked as Colette stepped inside.

“Why? Are you sick?”

“I must be to think I could handle the construction management myself.”

Colette laughed. “Well, I’m hardly going to accuse a psychiatrist of being crazy, so sick it is. Perhaps a mind-altering flu.”

“Sounds lovely,” Alex said and pointed to the only portion of the house away from the loud saws and other construction equipment. “My office is this way. It’s the only place with decent flooring and chairs.” She leaned over and whispered, “Plus, I have the gourmet single-serve coffeemaker hidden in my filing cabinet.”

Colette felt her spirits rise as she followed Alex into a pretty office with blue walls and white trim located in a corner of the building. In addition to being intelligent, attractive and empathetic, Alex was the most intuitive person she’d ever met. If there was help to be found, she’d find it here.

She took a seat in front of the desk and made small talk while Alex made them coffee, catching her up on all the hospital gossip since she’d resigned the month before. Then Alex slid into the chair behind her desk and gave her a shrewd look.

“While I am very happy to see you, I doubt you drove all the way to Vodoun to bring me up to speed on the latest inner workings of New Orleans General.”

“No. I have a problem … one I’m hoping you can help me with.”

Alex pulled a pad of paper and pen out of her desk drawer. “Tell me.”

“Anna Huval didn’t report to work on Friday. She was scheduled for the evening shift, but was a no-show/no-call.”

“You tried to reach her, of course.”

“Yes. I called her apartment and her cell. When I didn’t get an answer, I checked with the emergency room of all area hospitals, then when I came up empty there, I called the police. Fortunately, they had no Jane Does in the morgue that matched Anna’s description, and they let me file a report but said they probably wouldn’t look into it until Monday. Yesterday.”

Alex nodded. “Because most adults turn up within twenty-four to forty-eight hours and haven’t been victims of a crime.”

“Exactly.”

“So did they investigate on Monday?”

“I pestered them and they finally agreed to check her apartment. I’d already tried to get in but the landlord has gotten in trouble for letting unauthorized people into apartments before and wasn’t budging.”

“Did you find anything inside?”

“No sign of forced entry or a struggle, and her backpack was missing. Since she started nursing school, she carries it with her everywhere, sneaking in study time whenever she can.” Colette frowned. “But the thing is, her books were on her bed. Scattered like they’d been tossed there in a hurry. The bed itself was still made.”

“Could you tell if any clothes were missing?”

Colette shook her head. “I don’t know. There were no large gaps in her closet, so if she intended to leave, she didn’t take much, but then, she didn’t have much to begin with.”

“Tell me more about her cell phone.”

“She has a prepaid one that I’ve been calling every couple of hours, but it goes straight to voice mail. The police called the cell-phone company to track it, but they said it’s either turned off or not in range.”

“Did the police find any other reason to suspect she’d taken off on her own volition?”

Colette struggled with her own frustration and disappointment. Now that she was repeating the facts out loud, she could see exactly why the New Orleans police weren’t taking her seriously, and the next bit of information was not going to make the situation any better.

“Colette?”

She sighed. “Her bank said she withdrew four hundred dollars on Friday evening, a couple of hours before her shift was due to start.”

Alex raised her eyebrows and tapped her pen on the desk.

“I know how this looks,” Colette said. “If you take the facts and couple them with Anna’s reputation for hooking up with the wrong men, then you have a foolish girl adding one more wild weekend to a very colorful past. But I promise you, that is not the young woman Anna is now.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, I suppose no one can be one hundred percent sure, but I’ve worked with her every week for the last year. When she told me she wanted to turn her life around, I got her counseling with hospital staff as a start. After three months of therapy, she told me she wanted to be a nurse, and I helped her get grants for nursing school. She comes to me with questions on her courses, and I can see her interest and focus clear as day.”

“Maybe a family emergency …”

“She’s always claimed she has no family left, and I’ve never seen evidence of any since I’ve known her. Besides, if it was an emergency, why wouldn’t she call me? She trusts me. She knows I would help.”

“Perhaps it’s not the sort of emergency you would help with.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex sighed. “I know a little about Anna—some from the rumor mill at the hospital, some from Anna herself. If she’s involved in something she knows you wouldn’t approve of, she wouldn’t tell you. It’s clear from what you’ve told me that she respects you, and I got the impression that with Anna, respect doesn’t come lightly. If she thought telling you would damage that, she may choose to handle it alone.”

Colette slumped back in her chair. Everything Alex said made so much sense. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not in trouble, whether or not she chose to walk into it.”

“That’s true.”

“So will you take the case? I have the money, and Anna’s become … well, like a little sister to me. I have to do something.”

“Of course you do,” Alex said, and Colette could tell by her expression that Alex truly did understand.

Alex was the only person at New Orleans General whom Colette had ever confided in about the boating accident that killed her parents when she was young and being raised by her only living relative, a spinster aunt who never wanted children and who’d died years ago. More than anyone else, Alex knew the loss she felt at having no family and would understand why Anna had become so important to her.

“I have no problem with our taking the case,” Alex said.

Relief swept over Colette like a wave. “Thank you. I can’t even tell you how much this means that someone is actually listening.”

Alex leaned forward in her chair and looked directly at Colette. “But you have to be prepared for whatever we find—even if it’s not the answer you wanted.”

Colette nodded. “I can handle that. I just can’t handle doing nothing.”

“Good. As it happens, Holt’s half brother Max is starting at the agency this week. I’ll get all the information from you and bring him up to speed at dinner tonight.”

“Holt’s half brother?” Colette struggled to control her disappointment. “I was hoping you and Holt would do the investigation.”

“We’re busy on two other cases as the moment, but I promise you Max is an expert. He’s got ten years with the Baton Rouge Police Department and was the youngest detective in the department’s history. If anyone can find out what happened to Anna, Max can.”

“Okay. If you have that much confidence in him, then he must be worthy of it.”

Alex smiled. “He’ll probably want to talk to you tomorrow. Since you knew Anna better than anyone else, you’ll be a big help.”

“Anything I can do,” Colette said, hoping between now and tomorrow she could think of something—anything—that would help find Anna. If Alex’s assessment was correct and Anna was in some sort of trouble, then she needed Colette’s help now more than ever before.

MAX DUHON HANDED A BOARD to his brother Holt, who was up on a ladder replacing a rotted section of roof trim on his little cabin on the bayou. “It doesn’t sound like much of a case,” Max said.

Holt held the board in place with one hand and secured it with his nail gun with the other. “It’s not sensational or meaty, no, but Alex agreed to take the case, and you’re the only one available at the moment to handle it. She’ll bring you a folder tonight, but what I told you is the gist of it.”

“But the entire case is based on Alex’s opinion of someone else’s opinion. That’s hearsay in court. Why in the world is it good enough for you to launch an investigation?”

“The client meets our criteria. She suspects something has happened, and the police won’t open an investigation. The client is credible, even if the missing person is questionable.”

“And if it turns out to be nothing but a loose woman taking an unscheduled weekend with her latest passing fancy?”

Holt climbed down the ladder and placed his nail gun in its case. “Then we’ve still solved the case and earned our fee. We find answers here, Max, and the answers don’t always have to be criminal in nature. Turning her away would be going against the very reason we opened the agency in the first place.”

Max sighed. “I get it. I just don’t know how much more I can do than what the police have already done.”

“Talk to the client and try to find a new line of investigation. Poke around into things the police wouldn’t have bothered with—question classmates, see if she had a favorite hangout.” Holt clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you do best. If anyone can ferret out an answer on this, it’s you.”

Max picked up the ladder and followed Holt to the storage shed. He wished he had as much confidence in his abilities as his brother did. Maybe that was why Alex had assigned him a relatively straightforward, boring and safe case. Maybe they didn’t really believe he could handle the work, either. Not now.

The old Max was invincible … indestructible. At least that’s what he’d thought.

The bullet wound ached in his shoulder as he lifted the ladder onto the rack in the back of the shed—a constant reminder of what had happened.

Of his failure.

Chapter Two

The knock on Colette’s apartment door sent her into a nervous flurry. Holt’s brother was right on time, but despite a sleepless night, she still didn’t have a single thing to add to the information she’d already given Alex. She smoothed the wrinkles out of the bottom of her T-shirt and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, before opening the door.

Then sucked it back in when she saw Max.

She shouldn’t have been surprised by the prime male specimen in front of her. After all, Holt was an attractive man, but his brother was a work of art. The dark hair, finely toned body and beautifully tanned skin were an equal match for Holt, but the chiseled facial features and turquoise eyes belied a Nordic mother. It was a masterful combination of DNA.

“Colette Guidry?” he asked, his voice as smooth and sexy as his appearance.

“Yes.”

He stared at her for a couple of seconds. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Colette opened the door and allowed him to pass, flustered that she’d completely lost her sense and her manners. “I’m sorry. I just feel so scattered.”

He stepped inside her apartment and glanced around the open living room, kitchen and dining area. Colette got the impression that he was sizing her up, both by her own appearance and by that of her home. For a moment, she bristled, but then remembered he was a career cop. His mind probably automatically shifted to such things if he was working, and she could hardly fault him for assessing her when she was paying for his natural ability to do just that in the first place.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“That would be great.”

“Have a seat,” she said and waved a hand at the kitchen table. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

He slid into a chair at the table, and she poured two black coffees and carried them to the table. “I guess Alex filled you in on everything?” she asked as she took a seat across from him.

He nodded.

“I know it’s not much, and given Anna’s past, it’s probably less than anything, but I can’t help but think something has happened.”

“You care about her, so you’re worried,” he said simply. “I’m here to get you answers.”

His words were meant to be comforting, and Colette didn’t doubt their sincerity, but something in the tone of his voice made her think Max considered this entire case a waste of his time, which only strengthened her resolve. Regardless of Max’s opinion, she’d paid for his services and she was going to get her money’s worth.

“I’ve thought about it all night,” she said, “but haven’t been able to come up with anything I didn’t tell Alex.”

“It’s hard to know what may be important. Likely, you’ll think of things as I move through the investigation.”

“Where would you like to start?”

“At her apartment. I know the police went through it, but they would only have looked for signs of a crime. Since we have to assume at this point that she left of her own accord, I want to look for things that might tip me off as to where she may have gone and for what reason.”

Colette nodded. “Now that I’ve had the police out, I don’t think the landlord would have a problem letting us back in.”

“Us?”

“Yes. The landlord isn’t likely to let you in without me. She’s very particular about the rules.”

He frowned. “I suppose it’s all right for you to accompany me to her apartment.”

“Actually, I’ve taken some long-overdue vacation time. I intend to accompany you everywhere.”

His jaw dropped then clamped shut and set in a hard line. “I can’t allow that.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to have permission when I’m footing the bill.”

“It’s a matter of safety,” he said, not bothering any longer to hide his frustration. “If Anna is in some kind of trouble, then the investigation could be dangerous.”

“Then I guess it’s good you’ll have a medical professional with you.”

MAX CLIMBED INTO HIS JEEP, completely frustrated and with no outlet for expressing it, as the main source of his frustration was perched in the passenger seat. If he’d known he was going to be playing escort to an untrained civilian, he may have told Alex he couldn’t take the case. The young, shapely Cajun woman with miles of wavy dark hair and green eyes was the last thing in the world he’d been expecting.

When Alex had described Colette as one of the head nurses where she used to work, he’d immediately formed a picture in his mind of an old, blue-haired woman with ugly white shoes and a perpetual frown. But there wasn’t a single thing about Colette that was old, blue-haired or ugly. Even in jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes, and with her hair in a ponytail, she was still one of the sexiest women Max had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but wonder how those long legs would look without the jeans encasing them.

She’s a hard-core, hardheaded career woman, just like Mother.

And that was really where all train of thought came to a screeching halt, which was just as well. Max knew better than anyone that combining pleasure with work was a huge mistake.

He shook his head to change his train of thought and get back to the business at hand. They’d talked to all of Anna’s neighbors at her apartment building but gotten only the same story: Anna was a quiet, polite woman whom they rarely saw. The search of her apartment had yielded nothing but more questions. Max hadn’t located a single thread of information that might give a clue as to why the young woman had left. She kept no diary, no notes and, oddly enough, nothing related to her past.

It was as if she’d materialized out of thin air two years ago on the streets of New Orleans. And that, in itself, was very suspicious.

He could tell by Colette’s expression that she was also bothered by the lack of personal items in Anna’s apartment, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. And apparently, it hadn’t changed her mind about accompanying him to the bank to see if they’d part with information on Anna’s bank transactions.

“Don’t you need a warrant or something to get information from the bank?” Colette asked.

“Usually.”

Colette raised one eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation, but he didn’t feel like giving one. He may have to let her along for the ride, but that didn’t mean he had to consult with her on his actions or explain the way he worked. She was paying for an expert to handle the situation, and that’s what she’d get. Teaching wasn’t part of the job description.

She was smart enough not to press the issue, but she still followed right behind him as he parked in front of the bank and went inside. A young woman in a glass office at the front of the lobby jumped up from her chair and beamed as he walked in the door.

“Max,” she said and rushed to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Brandy,” he said, both embarrassed and flattered by the attention.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Max glanced around the lobby and was happy to see all the other employees and customers were out of hearing range. “I need your help,” he said and explained the situation to her.

Brandy’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O. When he finished, she nodded and gestured toward the office she’d come out of earlier. Colette and Max stepped inside and took seats across the desk from Brandy, who sat down and immediately started typing.

“There’s been no other activity on the account since the withdrawal last Friday, but there’s only thirty dollars left in the account.”

“What about the month before that?” Max asked. “Is there anything unusual that you can see?”

Brandy scanned the screen, shaking her head. “It all looks like normal stuff—a check for rent, automatic draft for utilities and Netflix, and a couple of small cash withdrawals—never more than twenty dollars at a time.”

“Can you tell where she made the withdrawal on Friday?”

Brandy nodded. “Let me look up the branch number associated with the transaction.” She typed in some numbers and then said, “It’s located on Highway 90 close to Old Spanish Trail, northeast of New Orleans.”

Colette sucked in a breath. “That’s on the way to the village where Anna’s from. But she said she had no family left there.”

“Maybe she lied.”

Colette frowned, and Max knew she wasn’t happy with the thought that the girl she’d invested so much in had been lying to her all along. “Maybe so,” she said finally.

“Can I get a printout of the transactions and the address of that branch?” Max asked.

“Of course,” Brandy said.

Max felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out to check the display. “It’s Holt,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He left the office and stepped outside onto the sidewalk in front of the bank. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Alex got a call this morning from the morgue at West Side Hospital outside of New Orleans. They have a body that matches Anna’s description.”

Max’s heart sank.

He’d known there was a possibility that Anna had met with foul play, but he’d really been hoping for a happy ending for Anna and Colette.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the worst-case scenario was visiting the investigation before he really got started.

COLETTE WATCHED AS BRANDY stapled the printouts together. The girl was certainly attractive and apparently knew Max well enough to risk being fired for what she was doing, but Colette couldn’t help but think she was a little too young for him. She couldn’t be over twenty at the most.

Whatever the status of Max’s relationship with Brandy, it was none of her business, but that didn’t prevent her from wanting to know. “You’re not really supposed to give out that information, are you?” Colette asked, figuring she couldn’t be faulted for the mostly innocent question, even if Max found out she’d asked.

“No, but you want it for a good reason. Besides, I owe Max.”

Colette wasn’t sure she really wanted to know the answer, but she couldn’t help asking. “Owe him for what?”

“I wasn’t the most respectable teen,” Brandy said, looking a bit sheepish. “Max busted me with the wrong crowd three years ago in Baton Rouge but agreed to let me go if I would go back to school and ditch my troublemaking friends. He lied to his captain and told him I got away while they were rounding up the others. If anyone had found out, he probably would have been fired.”

“Wow. That was really nice of him.” And totally not the answer Colette had expected. So far, she’d seen only the hard-nosed-cop side of him.

Brandy smiled. “You know how he is.”

“No … actually, I just met him this morning.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just that you two looked nice together. I guess I figured you were together.”

“No, we—”

Before she could explain, Max stepped back into the off ice.

“We have to leave,” he said.

Brandy handed him the printouts. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“I hope you find her soon.”

Max nodded and left the office, but not before Colette saw something dark pass over his expression.

“It was nice meeting you,” Colette said to Brandy and hurried out of the office behind Max.

“What’s wrong?” Colette asked as soon as he pulled the car away from the bank.

His jaw flexed and a wave of fear washed over her. Whatever he was about to say, Colette knew it wasn’t going to be something she wanted to hear.

“Alex got a call from the morgue at West Side Hospital.”

Colette felt the blood rush from her face. “Oh, no!”

“I need to take you over there. You’re the only one …”

“Yes, of course.” She stared out the windshield as he made the twenty-minute drive to the hospital, unable to believe it may all be over. That Anna could be inside the morgue on a cold slab of metal.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d known that if things went horribly wrong, she’d have to be the one to identify her friend, but she was completely unprepared for it to happen in a matter of minutes.

She felt as if she was almost out of her body as she walked into the morgue, Max close behind. Feeling numb, she waited while Max spoke with the clerk, who gave her a sad glance, then buzzed them through a secure door. A medical technician met them on the other side. He spoke to them, but Colette didn’t hear his words or Max’s reply.

Anna’s gone. Anna’s gone. The cry repeated in her head.

Finally, they stopped in front of a window with closed blinds, and the tech looked at Colette. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

A chill washed over her and she crossed her arms over her chest. She felt Max’s arm encircle her shoulders. The warmth should have been comforting, but she was too numb to feel it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nodded to the tech.

Every muscle in her body tightened as the tech opened the blinds. She took one look at the girl on the table and almost collapsed.

Chapter Three

“That’s not her,” Colette gasped. “Oh, thank God.”

Everything hit her at once, and she began to cry. Max pulled her close to him and stroked her back. She buried her head in the crook of his shoulder and struggled to get herself together.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as she broke free of the hug and took a step away from him, embarrassed that she’d fallen apart.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“I’m so relieved, and at the same time, it feels wrong to be relieved, because there’s another family that won’t be.”

Max nodded. “Every time I had to bring bad news to a family, there was a tiny voice in the back of my mind giving thanks that it wasn’t my own. That’s not wrong. That’s human.”

“Thank you. I thought I’d prepared myself that things may end this way, but I guess I was fooling myself.”

“There is no preparation for someone close to you dying. If they’re younger than life expectancy and it’s not from natural causes, then that makes it a hundred times harder.”

Colette studied him for a minute, struggling to hide her surprise. The empathy and understanding he shared with her was the last thing she’d expected from the hard-nosed, closed-off cop who had entered her apartment that morning. But then, Brandy’s story about Max had already alerted her to the fact that Max ran a lot deeper than what showed on the surface.

Unfortunately for her, every layer she uncovered made him even more attractive than before, and falling for emotionally unavailable men was her Achilles’ heel. She needed to shut down her overly active imagination and focus on finding Anna. She couldn’t afford to be personally invested in the situation any more than she already was.

“So what’s next?”

“A visit to the bank where Anna made the withdrawal. I’m hoping I can charm them into letting us review the tape of the ATM, maybe see if she was with anyone when she withdrew the money.”

“You don’t have a Brandy tucked away at every branch?”

He grinned. “Unfortunately, no. I’ll have to wing this one.”

“Then we better get going.”

She started to move toward the exit, but he placed one hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “are you sure you want to continue this? Working with me, I mean? This isn’t really what you’re trained to do, and as much as I’m hoping for a good outcome, things could get more unpleasant.”

“I know, but I have to see it through. I’d understand if you don’t want me along, though, especially after this. If that’s the case, then just say the word and I’ll get out of your way.”

He studied her for a minute, and she knew he was weighing the pros of having the only person who knew Anna on a personal level against being saddled with a rank amateur. Using every advantage available must have finally won out because he shook his head.

“If you’re willing, I can probably use your help,” he said grudgingly. “If she’s on the run from something, she may run even faster with only me pursuing her. With you there, she’ll believe I’m an ally.”

“Good,” she said, despite his lack of enthusiasm.

“But if things get too intense, I reserve the right to sideline you.”

“Okay.” And I reserve the right to ignore you if you do.

He gave her a nod and walked out of the building. She watched him for a minute, unable to stop herself from admiring the way his muscular back rippled beneath his T-shirt. He was one hundred percent alpha male—strong, direct and physically capable of handling his adversaries.

And Colette couldn’t help but think that the biggest risk for intensity was in her attraction to Max.

THE BRANCH MANAGER AT the location where Anna made the withdrawal turned out to be a man, so Max couldn’t try the charm route to get an inroad. But Max figured with his stiffly starched shirt, perfect hair and neat-as-a-pin office, the man would probably bend the rules to avoid anything remotely messy or unattractive for him or the bank.

As soon as he explained that the woman was missing and a crime may have been committed, the manager was more than willing to pull the tapes for them. They waited impatiently as the manager sifted through a box of tapes and finally pulled the right one out and placed it in the ancient VCR.

“We really should upgrade to digital,” the manager said, clearly nervous about the entire situation. “I keep asking, but corporate claims there’s no funding. I hope this thing was working properly that day. It has its moments.”

Max frowned. A “moment” from a VCR was the last thing he needed when he already had almost nothing to go on.

“Thank goodness,” the manager said when the tape fired up a fuzzy display of the ATM on the outside of the bank. “What was the time of the withdrawal?”

“Three thirty-two p.m.”

The manager forwarded the tape to just before three-thirty, and they all leaned in to watch. An older gentleman was using the ATM, but in the background, at the edge of the parking lot, stood a young woman.

“That’s Anna!” Colette said.

The gentleman finished his transaction and left the ATM. Anna glanced around then hurried across the parking lot to the ATM. She fumbled with her wallet, dropping it, but finally retrieved her card and withdrew the money. Her expression told Max everything he needed to know.

This wasn’t a woman out for a weekend fling. This woman was terrified.

They watched as she withdrew the cash and shoved it into her wallet. She looked nervously up and down the parking lot before hurrying back across to her car and driving away. Max leaned in toward the monitor to get a closer look at her car. A second later, she was gone.

“I didn’t see anyone coercing her,” the manager said, although his voice lacked conviction, probably based on Anna’s clearly nervous disposition.

“Don’t worry,” Max assured the man. “There’s nothing here that the bank can be faulted for. Do you mind if I take this tape?”

“No, of course not,” the manager said, his relief apparent. “Don’t worry about returning it. I need to change out the old tapes, anyway.”

“I really appreciate the help,” Max said and took the tape and motioned to Colette to leave.

After identifying Anna on the tape, Colette hadn’t said another word, but Max didn’t think for a minute that she hadn’t formed an opinion. As soon as the climbed into his Jeep, she let it out.

“She looked scared,” Colette said.

“Yes, but we have no reason to assume she’s scared because she’s in danger. Maybe there’s a sick friend or family member she never told you about.”

“She would tell me about a sick friend. I’m a nurse, for goodness’ sake. That’s enough of a reason for me to assume she’s in danger. If the problem was benign or anyone else’s to bear, why wouldn’t she tell me?”

He blew out a breath. As much as he hated it, the fact that Anna hadn’t contacted the only person she’d become close to didn’t add up, unless Anna herself was the one in trouble.

“You said she didn’t have family,” he said.

“She said she didn’t have family.” Colette shook her head. “Look, clearly I don’t know Anna as well as I thought I did. Maybe I don’t know her at all, but the woman on that tape didn’t know anyone was watching her, so she had no reason to fake being scared.”

“I agree, but we need a starting point. Her past is the most likely choice.”

“Okay.”

“You said her hometown was on this highway, right?”

“Not exactly. I said it was on the way to her hometown.”

Something in her tone let him know he was in for more answers he didn’t want. He looked over at her. “Where is Anna from?”

“Cache.”

He stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I were.”

“The entire village is the Louisiana swamp version of a unicorn. The name itself means ‘hidden.’ Even if it really exists, which I’m not certain of, how in the world are we supposed to find it? Every teenager I know, including me, tried to find Cache. No one ever came close.”

“It’s there … somewhere in the swamp. It has to be.”

Max shook his head. “Even if it is, there are other things to consider. You grew up in New Orleans, right? You know the stories.”

“What—that the entire village materializes at the will of the village people and can disappear just the same? That no one’s ever seen it and lived to tell about it? That if an outsider sets foot in the village, a curse will descend on ten generations of their family?”

She blew out a breath. “It’s all just stories made up by parents to keep their kids from wandering in the swamp. Maybe even made up by the villagers to keep people from looking for the village. A bunch of old Creole lore can’t possibly concern you.”

“It’s more than a bunch of lore. Mystere Parish is different.”

“Different how? The Louisiana mystique extends beyond that one parish.”

“Things happen here,” he said. “Things that aren’t possible. When we went into the swamp as boys, sometimes I’d feel a presence, something watching our every move.”

“Well, of course, there are animals out in the swamp and probably hunters—”

“It wasn’t anything like that. Look, I don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding crazy. I just know that you can’t take things in Mystere Parish at surface value.”

Colette bit her lower lip. “You think they’re practicing voodoo in Cache?”

“Maybe, if the village even exists. But regardless of whether or not they’re practicing the old ways, they will not take kindly to intruders. Finding the village could be enough to put us at risk to the same thing that happened to Anna.”

Just going into the swamp will expose us to whatever’s out there watching. He thought it, but didn’t say it.

“Are you telling me you won’t try?” she asked.

“No, I’m telling you why we shouldn’t try. But if you still want to move forward, then I will.”

“Of course I want to continue,” she said, but Max could see the uncertainty in her expression. “You saw her on the tape. She needs our help.”

He pulled out of the bank parking lot and merged onto the highway, directing his Jeep down the lonely stretch of road. “Pirate’s Cove is the closest town to where Cache is supposed to be. We’ll see if we can get some help locating the village there, and we need access to a boat.”

“I do know one thing about Cache,” Colette said, her voice wavering. “Until Anna Huval, no one’s ever left the village and talked about it. And they made her promise never to return.”

ANNA STUMBLED THROUGH the wall of decaying moss, the thick brush scratching her bare arms as she ran. Her leg muscles burned from the exertion of an hour-long race through the swamp, and her head throbbed above her right eye, where the creature had struck her. She paused for a couple of seconds and looked up, trying to ascertain that she was still running in the direction of the highway, but the thick canopy of cypress trees and moss choked out any view of the moonlight.

If she could get to the highway, she might be able to get help. The only town anywhere near was Pirate’s Cove, where she’d left her car, but she had no idea which direction it was anymore. Besides, the residents of Pirate’s Cove had to know about the curse. Someone was shielding the creature … either by helping it remain hidden all these years or by calling it up from the darkness if it hadn’t been there before. Either way, it was likely that person was in Pirate’s Cove.

The highway was her safest bet. There wasn’t much traffic, but truck drivers often used that stretch of road because it was wide open and not cluttered with regular traffic.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed forward again, knowing that the creature was behind her somewhere … tracking her as it would an animal. And if it found her, it would kill her like one.

As soon as she told him her secret.

Chapter Four

It was almost one o’clock when Max pulled into Pirate’s Cove. The town consisted of six buildings, scattered on both sides of the highway. The swamp stretched behind the buildings and went on for thousands of acres. Max pulled up to a café and parked.

“I figure we can get a bite to eat and use the time to feel out the locals. See if we can get some information on the location of Cache.”

Colette nodded. Her stomach had started rumbling after leaving the bank. With all the stress of the morning, she was a bit surprised that food even entered into her thoughts, but apparently, biology prevailed.

They exited the car and walked to the café entrance.

Max paused outside the front door and said, “Don’t tell anyone about Anna.”

“Then what do we say?”

“I’ll think of something. Let me get a read on the people first, and then follow my lead.”

She nodded and followed him inside, reminding herself of Alex’s confidence in Max’s abilities. No matter how much she wished the investigation could progress faster, she had to take a step back and let Max do the work she’d hired him to do. He’d struck just the right note with the bank manager in getting access to the video footage. Hopefully, he could find a way to do it again with the citizens of Pirate’s Cove.

The lunch rush was either over or there wasn’t much of one to begin with. Two men with sparse gray hair were the only patrons in the café, along with one cook and a waitress. All four stared as they took seats at the counter.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Iced tea,” Colette said.

“Same for me,” Max chimed in.

The waitress filled the glasses and placed them on the counter. “You want something to eat?”

“I’ll take the special,” Max said.

Colette looked up at the board and saw the special was a BLT with chips. “I’ll take the special, too.”

The cook pulled some bacon from a fryer and began preparing the two sandwiches. “You folks passing through?”

“No,” Max said. “Actually, we’re looking for Cache.”

The waitress dropped a plastic bottle of ketchup on the floor and some of it squirted out onto her shoe. The cook glared at her, and she snatched the bottle up and hurried through a door to the back of the café. The two old men leaned toward each other and started whispering.

The cook slid the plates in front of them and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You a little old to be chasing after fairy tales, ain’t you?”

“I don’t think it is a fairy tale,” Max said.

The cook laughed. “You and about a hundred new high-school seniors every year. All tromping through town and into the swamp, looking for something that ain’t there. But hell, I can’t complain. Brings me business.”

“We’re looking for a young woman, a friend of my fiancée’s,” Max said.

Colette struggled to keep her expression neutral at Max’s comment, but a moment later, she understood his tactic. He didn’t want to reveal himself as a detective. That might make them close up even more. If she and Max had a personal relationship, it gave him a good reason to be involved.

“She told my fiancée she had an emergency back home, but when she didn’t return, we started to worry. We know she’s from Cache, so we figure that’s where the emergency was. We want to help her if she’s in some kind of trouble. If you know anything about the town, I’d really appreciate the help.”

“Can’t tell you what I don’t know. Far as I know, there ain’t no Cache and never has been.”

The cook dropped his gaze to the sink behind the counter, then picked up a glass and started washing it. Colette was certain he was lying.

“Are you from this area?” Max asked.

“Yep. Name’s Tom. I’ve owned this café for over thirty years.”

“You mean to tell me that no one lives in the swamp outside of this town?” Max asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

Tom rinsed the glass and started drying it with a dish towel. “Plenty of people live in the swamp,” he said. “But that don’t mean they all living in some legendary community, and certainly not one running everything with black arts, like all the rumors say. If something like that was going on around here, don’t you think we’d have heard about it by now?”

“I guess so. So where did my fiancée’s friend come from, you think?”

Tom shrugged. “I got no idea. I guess when you find her, you can ask?”

“If we find her. Even if she’s from this area, a young woman has no business roaming the swamp alone.”

“That is a fact.” Tom cocked his head to one side and studied them for a moment. Then he narrowed his gaze on Colette. “How come you know the girl if she’s from the swamp?”

“She works for me at a hospital in New Orleans,” Colette said. “She’s studying for her nursing degree. I’ve been helping her, so we’ve become close.”

“And she said she was from Cache?”

“Yes.”

“You must not be from around here if you didn’t think that was odd.”

“I grew up in New Orleans, and I’ve heard all the stories about Cache. I don’t believe half of them, but that doesn’t mean the village doesn’t exist.”

“You hadn’t heard all the stories about Cache, because even if you believed only half of ‘em, you wouldn’t want to be finding it.”

“I’m not a coward. I want to help my friend.”

Tom shook his head. “You ever stopped to think that it’s far more likely your friend has told you a story because she’s got trouble with the law or a man? Some women always got problems with a man.”

“You could be right, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try to find her and help if she’s in trouble.”

He sighed. “You seem to be a nice woman, looking out for someone that ain’t even kin. I wish I could help.”

“Do you recall anyone with a daughter, about twenty or so, that lives out in the swamp?” Max asked.

“The swamp people’s got very little cash, and what they have they don’t spend on food service, so I don’t see them much. When they come into town, it’s for gas and minimal supplies. Talk to Danny over at the gas station. He may be able to help you.”

“Thanks,” Max said. “I’ll check with him when we leave.”

Tom glanced at the two old men in the corner and they rose to leave. They nodded to Tom and left the restaurant without so much as a backward glance. Colette looked out the plate-glass window and saw them cross the street and go into the gas station. She looked over at Max, who barely shook his head.

Colette tackled what was left of her lunch, anxious to leave. She felt more uncomfortable in this café than she ever had anywhere else. The undercurrents were almost palpable.

The waitress returned from the back and removed their empty plates from the counter. Colette noticed her movements were jerky and she barely looked at them. “Do you know where to find any of the swamp people?” Colette asked the waitress.

She stiffened and glanced over at Tom before replying. “I don’t ever go into the swamp. It’s too dangerous.”

“Have you ever met any of the people when they come here?” Colette asked. “A young Creole woman, about twenty?”

The waitress grabbed a dish towel and started wiping down the coffeepot behind the counter. “I don’t know any girl. Don’t know any swamp people.”

Max pulled out his wallet and left some money on the counter. “Thanks for the information and the food,” he said.

Tom nodded, but the waitress didn’t even look up. As soon as they got outside the café, Colette said, “The old men went to warn the gas-station guy we were coming, didn’t they?”

“Probably, which is interesting.”

“Tom was lying. What are they hiding?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t believe our reason for wanting to find Cache.” Max pointed to the gas station and they started across the street.

“Then what else could we possibly want?”

“Maybe reporters writing a story. Maybe someone looking for the ability to do black arts. If Cache really exists somewhere in the swamp near this town, they’ve managed to keep its location a secret for a long time. There must be something in it for the locals to keep the town protected.”

A chill passed over Colette, even though it was a warm fall afternoon. “What could be so important or so dangerous that generations of people made sure it stayed a secret all these years, and what would the villagers have to give to the townspeople to gain such a collective silence?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t know, but I have to tell you, I don’t get a good feeling about this.”

As they approached the gas station, the two old men who’d left the café walked out the front door and hurried down the sidewalk, careful to avoid making eye contact. Colette looked beyond the gas station to the dense swamp behind it.

She didn’t get a good feeling, either.

Max held open the door and they walked inside the station. A man, probably in his thirties, with unkempt brown hair and wearing a greasy shirt and jeans was stocking a beer cooler and looked up when the bell above the door jangled on their entry.

“You folks need gas?” he asked.

“No, we were hoping for some information.”

The man straightened and walked over to them. “My name’s Danny Pitre. I own this station.” He extended his hand to Max, who shook it, and then nodded at Colette.

“What kind of information you looking for?” Danny asked.

“We’re looking for Cache,” Max said.

Danny narrowed his eyes. “You the people from the café?”

“Yes.”

“Old Joe told me you was looking for a missing girl that claimed she was from Cache.”

“That’s right. She’s my fiancée’s friend and coworker. She hasn’t reported to work for several days and we can’t reach her by cell.”

Danny rubbed his chin and studied them for several seconds. “Truth is, I had a boat stolen last week. One of the old-timers said he saw a young girl with dark hair in it but figured I’d rented it to some city fool, which is why he didn’t tell me about seeing it till I mentioned it was missing.”

Colette felt her pulse spike. It must have been Anna who stole the boat, trying to get to the village.

Danny looked over at her. “Your friend a thief?”

“Not usually,” Colette said, “but her message said it was an emergency. I suppose she may have borrowed your boat intending to return it.”

“Did you ever find the boat?” Max asked.

“Yeah. A fisherman towed it in yesterday. He found it floating loose out in the swamp.”

Colette felt her back tighten. Surely Anna would have known the proper way to secure a boat. Had something happened to her while she was on it? Had she fallen off somewhere in the swamp and met with one of the many deadly predators? Colette didn’t want to think about the many unpleasant possibilities.

“Tom over at the café said you may know where some of the swamp people live,” Max said. “I figure if we could find some of them, even if they aren’t the girl’s family, word may get back to them.”

“Ain’t no way to get back to the swamp people but by boat. You got one?”

“No. I was hoping to rent one, but if that’s not possible here, I guess I’ll head back to New Orleans and rustle one up.”

Danny shook his head. “Well, I sure do give you dedication to your word. I can loan you the boat that was stolen, no charge. It’s small but you can’t fit much where you’ll be going. I’ll have to charge you for the gas, though. It’s been a slow month.”

“That’s no problem. I appreciate the loan.”

“You may not be so grateful once you get out into the swamp. It’s no place for the untrained. Did you grow up around these parts?”

“Vodoun. I did plenty of tromping through the swamp as a boy.”

“I thought your accent was local,” Danny said. “Well, then you might be all right, but I’ll loan you my shotgun, just in case.” He waved to the back door and started walking toward it. “Boat’s out back. Let’s get it in the water and then I’ll tell you where to start looking.”

Colette struggled with feelings of relief, anticipation and fear that they were already too late to help Anna. If everything turned out badly, she had to be ready to accept that at least she had an answer. Living without one would be something she never could have accepted.

Max helped Danny push the tiny, flat-bottom, aluminum boat into the bayou, and Danny tied it off at the dock. Then he pointed west down the bayou.

“You’re going to want to head that way about a mile,” Danny said. “When you come to the cypress tree that’s been split by lightning, take a right into that channel. Follow it for another two miles or so into the swamp. When you see a line of crab pots, look east and you’ll see a dock almost hidden in the undergrowth. There’s a cabin about fifty yards back from the dock. You got that?”

“Yeah, it seems straightforward enough.”

“Finding a cabin isn’t the problem. The real danger comes if you find the people. They don’t take kindly to strangers, and they’re just as apt to shoot you as talk to you. Make sure you tell them straight out that you’re not the police. They probably don’t even know the rules, much less follow them, so it causes them some problems with the law on occasion. There’s no love lost there.”

“I’ll make sure I yell it loudly.”

“Just a minute,” Danny said and walked back inside the gas station and came back a few minutes later with a shotgun that he handed to Max.

Max checked the gun and took the handful of spare bullets that Danny offered. “Thanks. I hope I won’t need to use this.”

“Me, too,” Danny said. “The walk from the dock to the cabin is probably the most dangerous part. Be sure to watch for snakes and alligators, and of course, any unhappy swamp people. You don’t stand much of a chance against any of them in a one-on-one fight, except maybe a snake, and I guess I don’t have to tell you how far off the hospital is.”

Danny looked over at Colette. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to go? You’re welcome to wait here if you’d like.”

“No, thank you,” Colette replied. “I’m the one who made the promise. I can’t let someone else take all the risk for keeping my word.”

Danny grinned. “You got spunk. I like that.” He walked toward the gas station and gave them a wave. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You know, he’s right,” Max said. “You don’t have to come. In fact, it would probably be safer if you didn’t.”

“I don’t know that I agree.” Colette glanced back at the town. “I don’t get a good feeling about this place.”

Max nodded. “There’s definitely an undercurrent of something unpleasant. More than just resenting nosy strangers.”

“Do you think they know something about Anna that they’re not telling us?”

“Maybe, or they may be hiding something completely unrelated that they don’t want us to stumble onto. It’s impossible to say.”

“Well, despite the many dangers of the swamp, I’d rather be out there with you. Besides, if we find people who know Anna, you won’t be able to answer questions they may have about her. I can. And the reality is, you’ll probably look less threatening to them with a woman tagging along.”

“That’s true enough.”

“There’s something that bothers me,” Colette said. “Anna took money out of her account before coming here. Why would she steal the boat when she could have rented it?”

“You said she wasn’t supposed to return, right? Maybe she didn’t want anyone knowing she was coming. If she’d rented the boat, word would have spread. A young girl traipsing around the swamp alone would raise some eyebrows.”

“I guess so.”

Max pulled his cell phone from his pocket and frowned. “No service. I figured as much, but it means we have no backup. You still sure?”

She should have known that cell phones would be useless this deep in bayou country, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Still, it didn’t change what they had to do.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said and motioned to the boat. “Hop in and I’ll push us off.”

Colette stepped into the boat and took a seat on the narrow bench in the middle. Max untied the boat and pushed it from the dock, stepping into the boat as it backed away. He took a seat at the back and started the outboard motor, then powered the boat down the bayou in the direction Danny had indicated.

As soon as they were out of sight of the town, he slowed down to a crawl. “Do you know how to fire a shotgun?” he asked.

“Doesn’t everyone in Louisiana? The natives, anyway.”

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.”

“Then I’ll leave off praying for the cell-phone battery and just pray for no rain.”

He waved one hand out toward the bayou. “It’s going to be slow going. With all the water lilies, I can hardly see the surface at all. I’m afraid to move too fast in case something is submerged.”

“I understand.”

She faced straight forward on her seat, scanning the banks on each side of them. She was saying all the right things, but Max could see the tension in her back and neck as she looked for any sign of Anna or the village.

He’d been surprised that ‘Gator had given them information so easily. Granted, he’d held a gun on them long enough to form an opinion, but usually swampers were very protective of each other. Maybe seeing the girl was so odd that ‘Gator knew something was wrong, too.

Or maybe he was sending them right into a trap.

‘Gator had made it clear that no one left Cache, and Anna had told Colette that she’d been directed never to return. If Anna had dared to leave and now dared to return, the people of Cache wouldn’t be happy to see her. And that sentiment would extend to anyone looking for her.

He checked the picture of the map on his cell phone and steered the boat left into a tiny cut. The cypress trees were so thick with moss that they blocked all but the tiniest ray of light from entering. Max squinted in the dim light, trying to keep the boat in the middle of the narrow channel, where he’d be less likely to hit the knotty roots of the trees that grew underwater and claimed many propellers.

“Colette, check in that bench you’re sitting on and see if there’s a flashlight.”

She rose from the bench and lifted the lid. She dug around in it for a minute or so and emerged with a weather-beaten flashlight.

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