by Mary Ellis
He hung up before she could explain she wasn’t going back to that blighted, mosquito-filled, snake-infested world. The bayou had never appealed to her. After her father died, she would sooner cross the Sahara Desert on a one-hump camel than spend time there. But how could she refuse? And how could she admit to Hunter she was no closer to finding Nowak’s killer than the day he hired her?
Sighing, she swallowed some ibuprofen, tied her hair into a ponytail, and gingerly sprayed bug repellant on all exposed skin surfaces. Then she grabbed a bottle of water and her keys and drove to Hunter’s Rue Royale apartment. Before she found parking on the street, he came down and said she could have his spot. After he had backed out his Corvette, Nicki pulled into his parking space and then hopped in his car. With unusually heavy traffic demanding his attention, she focused on the roadmap and passing landmarks. This time she had no trouble finding the dirt road leading to La Maison de Poisson.
“You thought this was the driveway to the home of a client?” Hunter stopped at the rusty sign hanging precariously by its single bolt. “La Maison de Poisson just means fishing camp in French, Nicki.”
“Unfortunately, I took Spanish in school. I thought the name sounded pretty and rather romantic.”
“And the badly potholed surface is simply a ruse to keep solicitors at bay?” He flashed a smile at her, the first she’d seen that day.
“Something like that,” she mumbled, feeling dumber by the minute.
“Tell me again everything that happened. Leave out no details.” He drove down the road very slowly, watching for strips of carpet tacks and other booby traps she’d warned him of.
Nicki recounted her saga, describing the thugs, the truck, and their weaponry. But she couldn’t describe the sheer, paralyzing fear she’d experienced even if she tried.
“What happened the next morning? How did you get back to New Orleans?” Hunter’s focus shifted from one side of the road to the other.
“After a sleepless night in the shack, I walked back to my car. Those creeps had pushed my Escort into the weeds so they could pass it with their truck. At least they didn’t wreck it. When I reached the road, I started walking back in the direction I had come. But in less than half a mile, I saw my spare tire and jack lying off to the side. If I wasn’t such an observant, trained investigator, I may not have spotted them.” She glanced over for his reaction. He was trying hard not to laugh.
“They threw my stuff in the ditch just to be mean. Anyway, I carried the jack and rolled the spare back to my car and changed the flat.”
“You didn’t,” he said, incredulous. “All by yourself?”
“Sure enough. I am no shrinking violet.” Nicki couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or truly impressed.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Grinning from ear to ear, Hunter parked the Corvette in the sparse gravel in the turn-around.
Without the torrential rain, the eerie mist, the night sounds, and the wind rattling the metal roof, the place looked far less ominous. “Funny how bright sunshine and singing birds keep the ghosts and vampires away.”
Hunter crisscrossed the area, photographing tire treads and gathering discarded beer cans. He picked up discarded shotgun casings carefully, placing them in individual zippered bags. Nicki should have been doing that, but she stayed in the car gathering her courage. What kind of PI allows the client to collect evidence? Many private investigators hired on as bodyguards instead of needing one themselves.
Hunter approached her side of the car. “You’re right about the truck—dual axle, monster tires, probably an F-350. Let’s head down to the bayou.”
With shame finally getting the better of her, Nicki jumped out to follow. “Hold up there, Hunter. Let me lead the way since I’ve been here before.”
The moment he reached the dock, he dropped to his hands and knees to inspect the top step. “This board has been sawed, Nicki. It was sabotaged.”
“I’ve never heard anyone use the word ‘sabotage’ before except in movies.”
“And look up there.” Hunter pointed at a fresh gouge in the cypress trunk. “You’re right. They used solid loads, but they were aiming at least six feet over your head.”
“They weren’t aiming at me here. I was already out on the water. They must have been shooting in the air.”
Nicki then led the way to the waterway where they stood on the shady bank and stared at the still water. No animals crept along the bank; no birds called to each other in the trees. And there was no sign of the ill-fated pirogue that initiated her uncomfortable night in the shack.
“Where did the boat sink?” he asked, as though reading her mind.
“Out maybe fifty feet into the canal, close to that fallen tree.”
“Shall we swim out, dive down, and haul her to the surface?” he asked.
“Absolutely not!” Nicki turned on her heel and headed back to the overgrown backyard. She could feel the symptoms of a panic attack change her heart rate, respiration, and body temperature. No way could she allow Hunter to see how the swamp affected her.
“That was a joke, Nicolette.” Hunter caught up with her as she cut a wide swath around the cabin.
“I wasn’t taking any chances.” Panting, she stopped under a moss-shrouded oak. “The sooner I’m away from here the better. Okay, some punks tried to scare me, not kill me. Apparently they succeeded.”
Hunter took hold of her arm with a strong grip. “Take a breath. Slowly, now. That’s better. We need to get to the bottom of this. Those punks didn’t pick you out randomly as their victim. Someone who knows you work for me sent you here.”
Nicki peered up into his face, forcing herself to breathe deeply. “That occurred to me, but I’d rather not dwell on it. What did your assistant say when you questioned her? She’s the one who sent me on this wild goose chase.”
Hunter shrugged. Deep squint lines around his eyes revealed how often he forgot his sunglasses. “Someone left a message for her on the office answering machine. It said I was trying to get a hold of you and that she should keep trying. And when she did…well, you know the rest.”
“She didn’t find that strange?”
“She didn’t, but I do. Naomi didn’t recognize the voice and, unfortunately, she erased the message. She’s very upset about the whole matter. She was at Ethan’s party yesterday when you arrived and saw the end result of her bogus instructions.”
“Did she think I should have waited at the back gate too?” Nicki knew that sounded petty and childish, but Ashley had scratched her soft underbelly.
Hunter walked her back to his car and opened the door for her. “Ashley regrets the misunderstanding and asked me to pass along her apology. She didn’t know you worked for Nate.”
“So your fiancée is only rude and condescending to the real catering staff,” she said as she sat down huffily on the seat.
Hunter lifted an eyebrow. “Ashley was a little high-strung last night. Normally she’s nice to everybody.”
Nicki stared silently through the windshield until she was able to readjust her attitude. Then she turned to him and said, “I’m sorry, Hunter. I’m sure she is or you wouldn’t be marrying her.”
“The whole evening caught me a bit off guard too.”
“You hadn’t asked her to marry you before last night?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Pul-leaze. I’m sure your family didn’t imagine your intentions.” Her sweet voice disappeared, replaced by a rather catty tone.
“Of course not. Our relationship was serious. But I didn’t like people taking matters into their own hands. I should have been able to propose when I was ready.”
Something told Nicki it was more than his pushy family or her nosiness that raised his hackles. “All right, enough of me asking questions that are none of my business. What do you say we leave the charming fishing camp and I buy you a burger and fries at Mickey D’s for lunch? I say an employee celebration is in order.” Nicki snapped on her seatbelt.
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br /> “Sounds lovely, but I need to check out the cabin first. You stay in the car.”
“Wait! Please don’t go in there.” Alarm crawled up her spine. Visions of every teenage horror movie she’d ever seen returned despite the sunshine and blue sky. “Hunter…let’s just get out of here.”
He gazed at her, his face filled with compassion. “Easy, Nicki. The bad guys are long gone. There’s nothing inside but spiders. Take deep breaths till I get back.”
“There could be poisonous copperheads! Or the floorboards could give way and a fifteen-foot bull alligator will make your leg his lunch. Or—”
Hunter turned around on the bottom step. “Are you packing heat? Did your permit-to-carry arrive in the mail? If so, draw your weapon and defend your client ’cause I’m goin’ in.” He turned back to the door and with a flourish threw it open and disappeared inside.
He was making sport of her. Hunter really knew how to get under a gal’s skin, yet she couldn’t blame him. Nicki opened her door and stepped out, but she still couldn’t follow him into that horrible place. Anxiety continued to claw at her consciousness. Feeling faint and mildly sick to her stomach, she slouched back into the car. Gritting her teeth, Nicki closed her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t have to retrieve a partially eaten body. Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait.
Hunter’s blond head soon emerged from the doorway. “I talked the gator into Bob’s Crab Shack for the all-you-can-eat buffet instead of my leg.” He laughed all the way across the yard.
“Very funny. I have half a mind to leave you here.” From the passenger seat, Nicki turned the key in the ignition, causing the powerful engine to roar to life.
Hunter slipped in behind the wheel and put on his sunglasses, his face becoming unreadable. “I didn’t see any evidence in the cabin. You really don’t like it in the swamp, do you? Even without people shooting at you.”
“I grew up in the country, remember? I had a belly full. Now I’m enchanted with concrete, neon lights, and traffic jams.”
“I suspect there’s more to it than that.” He patted her knee and then turned the car around in the grass.
The touch lasted only a moment, but it was enough to send her blood pressure skyrocketing again. “Please, let’s talk about something else.” In her side mirror Nicki watched the shack disappear. Good riddance.
Hunter drove slowly, watching both sides of the drive. Once they were back on the parish road headed toward civilization, he settled back against the leather seat. “Ashley really is a nice person. She didn’t mean anything by mistaking you for cleaning help.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“Excuse me?” He pulled his sunglasses down with one finger and gave her a very direct look.
“I know I work for you, Hunter, and I should mind my manners—”
“Besides respecting your elders,” he added.
“And let’s not forget ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ ”
“Ah, one of my favorites. But by all means, Nicki, speak your mind. Forget that your Christmas bonus hangs by one slender thread, along with employer paid health care.” His laughter filled the car.
Ignoring her intuition that said to keep her mouth shut, she forged on. “I believe Miss Menard was sorry she insulted me, but only because I do actually work for you. If I had been with the caterers and had mistakenly interrupted the party, she wouldn’t think twice about being rude and unkind. She took one look at me and instantly felt I didn’t belong there.”
Hunter said nothing for the longest half minute of her life. Then he spoke. “Sounds like you’re carrying around a load of resentment from the past. It’s true that people often draw conclusions based on clothes, but why is your nose so out of joint? You’re just starting out in your career. Someday you’ll be able to dress however you like or maybe you’ll stop putting so much importance on other people’s opinions.” His voice was tender, soothing.
“I don’t disagree with you. Of course you’re right. But why is it no matter how high you climb, people never forget where you started? Look at the pop stars. They’re filthy rich, but tabloid TV never lets them live down their humble beginnings.”
“First off, stop watching bad TV. And maybe it’s the stars’ behavior that makes them tabloid fodder, not their background or lineage. If they act without considering the consequences, they become easy targets. Rich or poor, people who behave with dignity will be treated with respect.”
Nicki had nothing to say to that. She sat back and watched the watery scenery fly by. When the lump in her throat finally dissolved, she regained her voice along with her composure. “How did you get so smart, Hunter?”
“From eating Quarter Pounders with fries. You said you’re buying, so dig out your wallet. We’re only twelve miles from the next town.”
Nicki pulled her purse from the floor to her lap. “Forget what I said about Ashley. I was just envious about her cool clothes. You’re one lucky man.”
“I forgive you. After what you endured in the swamp, anybody else would need major PTSD counseling.” Hunter’s smile caused Nicki’s breath to catch in her chest, and it had nothing to do with panic attacks.
Too bad the guy was already engaged. Otherwise, she was halfway to falling in love.
TWENTY-ONE
Hunter arrived home to his Rue Royale apartment with more questions than answers. They were no closer to figuring out who killed James, and now someone was trying to hurt Nicki. The flat tire and stolen spare may have been pranks, but rigging the boat and shooting at her were dangerous games to play. They had no way of knowing whether she could swim and aiming high didn’t always work out as planned. And plenty of things could go wrong in a rotted shack in the middle of the night after they had left her stranded.
By the time he dropped Nicki at her car and climbed the steps to his apartment, he was ready for a cold beverage, a couple of aspirin, and an early bedtime. But what he found was Ashley cooking in the kitchen, or at least reheating dinner. Dressed in a long skirt and summer top, she looked tanned and radiant.
“Good evening, Hunter,” she drawled. “I was going to throw my dinner down the disposal if you didn’t get home soon.” A brilliant smile accompanied her gentle chastisement.
After she had turned back to the stove, Hunter quietly stuffed the bag of evidence he’d brought in from the car under the sink and then pecked her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming over. I would have called to say when I’d be back.” He reached into the refrigerator for a Coke.
“You put that back. I brought red wine to go with my roast beef and mashed potatoes.”
Hunter had spotted multiple takeout containers sticking out of the trash can but decided not to comment. He wasn’t marrying her for her culinary abilities. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was marrying her, other than she was pretty and sweet and his family liked her. And it was the right thing to do considering how long they had dated.
He shook off the doubts he figured every prospective groom faced and put the soda back. “Everything smells wonderful, Ash.” He dug in the drawer for the corkscrew.
“Try just a bite of this.” Leaning in close, she fed him a forkful of beef. “Since I’m about to become your wife, I decided to become domestic.”
“It tastes delicious.” Hunter opened the wine and poured them each a glass. His thoughts, however, drifted to Nicki instead of the meal Ashley was placing on the table. How can I relax when some psycho may be trying to finish what he started in the swamp?
“Where did you go today? Even Naomi didn’t know where you were.”
Hunter’s attention snapped back to Ashley. He was feeling strangely disloyal. “I drove out to Terrebonne Parish with Miss Price.”
“Terrebonne Parish? Why, it’s been ages since I’ve been out there, not since Katrina. Is there any dry ground left?”
“Plenty. They have recovered nicely. Do you remember meeting my investigator?” He handed her a glass of wine.
“Of course I do.” Ashley dried her hands on a towel and tossed it next to the sink. “She was that skinny, stringy-haired gal I thought had come to pack up the rented china. If a person plans to crash a party, they should at least dress like the other guests.” Her laughter contained a brittle edge.
“If I had known about the party, I would have invited her. Nicki works for Nate Price, so indirectly she works for me. She’s trying to find James’s killer and clear my name.”
“Lighten up, Hunter. That was a little joke. My, you are tense tonight. You’ve been tense a lot lately. That’s why your family wanted to surprise us, to spare us worry over inconsequential details.”
“James’s murder has become an inconsequential detail?”
Ashley took a sip of wine and wrapped her arm around his waist. “In a way, yes. Last night was special for us—a celebration of our future. Can’t we forget about James’s tiresome murder and the investigation for one night?” She waved her hand over the table like a game show hostess. “Let’s eat before everything gets cold.”
Hunter settled onto his chair a little stiffly. “I didn’t know that you found James tiresome.”
“You never really asked, did you?” She fluttered her long lashes. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but I never could understand your loyalty to him.” She brushed a silky strand of hair from her face. “It’s not as though his family was connected to yours. He was just your college roommate for a few years. He was a user, a manipulator. Really, Hunter, you should have left him in your dust ages ago.” Ashley cut her roast beef into small pieces and daintily chewed a bite.
Hunter stared at her over his wineglass. This was an unexpected revelation. She and James had appeared to get along in the past. In fact, Ashley often arranged double dates with James and whoever he was seeing.
“He was my friend. I wouldn’t have called him a user.” He took a scoop of lumpy mashed potatoes, noticing as he did so that the mood music she had put on the CD player was grating on his nerves.
