by Sharon Sala
Hershel was dumbfounded.
“Shit.”
“It’s not bad news from where we’re standing,” Edwards said. “This means our man is still alive.”
“I’m glad to know Aroyo is alive, but at the same time, this almost certainly means I have three very bad men on the loose in my parish,” Hershel snapped, then immediately shifted mental gears. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to go off on you. Thank you for the information. Give me your location. I’ll send my deputies out with a tow truck to bring it in. You understand we’ll have to collect our own evidence.”
“No problem, Chief. Just wanted to keep you up-to-date. We’ve already got a tow out here—I’ll just tell him to bring the car to you. And just so you know, we intend to continue our search until we locate our agent. If your missing prisoners are still with him, we would be happy to assist you in returning them to your custody.”
Hershel sighed. “When we arrested them for possession of meth, they were awaiting arraignment and then transportation to New Orleans on outstanding warrants. If you find them, don’t bring them back to me.”
“Understood,” Edwards said.
Hershel disconnected, then opened his drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin.
Wayman was swallowing his last bite of hot dog when he heard Amalie scream. He ran to the window just in time to see Lou swinging a crowbar at the back of Nick’s head. When he saw Nick fall, Amalie run and Lou give chase, he panicked. His first instinct was to tell Tug. He went running down the hall and into his room.
“Tug! Lou just hit Nick in the back of the head with a crowbar and took off after the woman.”
“Stupid damn bastard,” Tug said, and rolled over onto his side in an attempt to get up. But the moment his head came off the pillow, the room started spinning. “Damn it! I can’t handle this, Way. You’ve gotta do it.”
Wayman nodded. “You just tell me what you want and it’s done.”
“Make sure Nick’s okay. Then go get Lou and bring him back. If we didn’t need him to get away from here, I’d say let the gators get him. But the woman doesn’t deserve this. She’s been good to me when she didn’t have to be. I don’t want anything happening to her. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Wayman said. “I’ll be back. Don’t you worry, Tug. I’ll do what you say.”
He raced out of the house to where Nick had fallen. Wayman dropped to his knees and quickly rolled the other man onto his back, then slapped his cheek and shook his shoulders in an effort to wake him up.
“Nick! Nick! Are you—”
All of a sudden Nick’s eyes flew open, and he made a grab for Wayman’s wrist, thinking he was Lou; then his gaze focused.
Wayman rocked back on his heels.
“Man…I thought you were a goner.”
Nick groaned. As he sat up, he carefully fingered the back of his head. There was a cut in his scalp and blood on his hand. When he saw the crowbar near his leg, he remembered what had happened.
Then it hit him. Amalie had been out here, too. Where was she?
He bolted to his feet, his thoughts in a panic.
“Where is she? Where’s Amalie?” he asked.
“When you went down, she started running. Lou took off after her.”
“Shit,” Nick whispered. “Which way did they go?”
Wayman pointed. “Toward the swamp.”
Nick felt sick. He’d promised he would keep her safe.
He turned toward Wayman, poking a finger hard against his chest.
“Just so you know…if he hurts her before I find them, I’ll kill him.”
Then he started to run.
“No!” Way yelled. “Tug says bring Lou back. You can’t hurt him.” But his words fell on deaf ears.
Wayman cursed, then began to follow. He wasn’t sure where they’d gone, but Tug had said to bring them back, and that was what he was going to do.
Amalie felt like she’d been running forever. Her shoes were soaked, and her clothes were wet all the way up to her waist. Her breath was coming in short, painful gasps, and her lungs felt ready to burst. Even worse, last time she’d looked, Lou was still there behind her, pursuing her with dogged determination.
The wind continued to rise as the sky grew darker. Within an hour, the sun would set, and she was about to run out of even semi-solid ground. Everywhere she looked, there was water and nowhere to go but through it.
She said a quick prayer and waded in again, holding her breath to see how deep it went, then breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t go past her knees. She strode through it as fast as she could, desperate to get out and back onto dry ground.
Suddenly something splashed in the water behind her. She gasped and spun, expecting to see the gnarled snout of a gator coming at her, but instead she saw a turtle slipping off a partially submerged log into the dark, murky slough. Somewhere to her right she heard a louder splash and tried not to think of what had caused it as she made a dash for shore.
Just get out. Get out. I’ve got to get out.
Finally she was climbing out onto a narrow spongy mudbank. She paused to look behind her, sweeping the area with a frantic gaze, but Lou was nowhere in sight. Had she finally outrun him? Even better, had a gator pulled him under?
All of a sudden the muscles in her legs began to cramp. She shouldn’t have stopped. She took a few steps forward, but it was no use. Her muscles knotted as she dropped to her knees.
Exhausted and afraid, she couldn’t think what to do next. Then, out of nowhere, the secret room and the names on the wall flashed through her mind. Those same people had most likely run through this very swamp from something far worse than the man who was chasing her. It was the thought of their courage and bravery that got her up and on her feet.
No sooner had she straightened than she heard a crashing in the trees behind her. She turned just in time to watch Lou push his way into a clearing. With only fifty yards between them, she felt cornered.
But like Amalie’s, Lou’s clothes were drenched in sweat, and his steps, too, were beginning to lag. He was questioning his sanity when suddenly he saw her. The sight renewed his purpose as he laughed aloud.
“Run, bitch! Run while you got the chance!”
The laugh made her skin crawl. Despite the impending thunderstorm and the growing hour, Amalie wasn’t about to give up.
She spun on her heel and once more started running, heading deeper into the swamp. She heard Lou jump into the span of water she’d just crossed and couldn’t help but think, where was a hungry gator when you needed one?
Nick had no trouble following where they’d gone. The trail was obvious, from the deep footsteps left in the mud that were slowly filling up with water, to the crushed grass and broken vines and bushes.
The cut on his head was throbbing. The blood seeping from the wound was running down the back of his neck and soaking into his shirt. But pain was secondary to his fear for Amalie. He kept an eye to the trail as he ran, desperate to catch Lou before he got to her.
Then, suddenly, he heard Lou yell. He didn’t understand the words, but it was reassuring to know that he was close enough to him now to hear his voice. So he kept on moving, thinking only of keeping a promise, aware that night and another thunderstorm were fast approaching.
Within moments he heard Lou shout again, and this time the sound was loud, proof that he was gaining. Nick’s hopes rose as something else dawned. The fact that Lou was still moving and taunting her meant he had yet to catch her.
Ignoring the pain in his side, Nick increased his speed and within a couple of minutes caught a brief glimpse of white through the trees. He recognized it as the back of Lou’s dirty T-shirt. He couldn’t see Amalie, and at that moment, he didn’t care. He hadn’t thought past his intent to stop Lou. But as he began to draw closer, he began to worry that after the threat was gone, she might keep on running. God knows he wouldn’t blame her. But he didn’t want to lose her in the Louisiana bayous in the dark.
Ten
Knowing he was only yards away from catching up with Lou gave Nick a fresh burst of energy. With his gaze fixed on the spot where he’d last seen the shirt, he vaulted over the knee of a partially submerged cypress stump, landing in ankle-deep water. Something hissed in the trees above his head, then jumped across his line of vision in a caramel-colored blur.
Panther!
His shock at seeing the animal was only slightly less than the panther’s disapproval of Nick’s appearance as it leaped into the branches of another tree. The cat went one way and Nick the other as he waded the small arm of water and kept on moving.
Lou paused to catch his breath. He felt good. This chase was just what he’d needed to feel alive again, and even better, the prize at the end of the run would be the woman. He was gaining on her, and the thought of nailing her was all the incentive he needed to keep moving. He was pushing through a shallow slough when he began to feel something crawling up his leg. Immediately he stopped and yanked up the hem of his sodden jeans.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelped, and peeled off a leech that was about to attach, then flung it against the side of a cypress. Still shuddering, he gazed around at the morass of trees, moss and water.
“Damn creepy-ass place,” he muttered.
Just as he was about to move, he began to hear the sounds of something splashing in the water behind him.
“What the hell?”
He looked for Amalie. She’d already disappeared. Unwilling to lose her, he started off in the direction she’d been moving, then once again heard the sounds and stopped to listen. They were getting closer and louder. Whatever it was, it was gaining on him. He wanted to go after the woman, but he was beginning to worry about what might be coming at him from behind.
When he heard a grunt, his heart skipped a beat. Was it some kind of animal? Panicked, he began looking for something to use as a weapon but saw nothing. Accepting that he was down to his fists, he climbed out onto a knob of solid ground and braced himself for the worst.
He was beyond stunned to see a man come running into view. That it was Nick Aroyo nearly stopped his heart. He thought he’d left him dead, or at the least nursing a busted head. He’d certainly swung at him hard enough.
Panic shifted up a notch. Without a weapon, he already knew he was at a disadvantage. Aroyo was a foot taller and in far better shape. Lou’s only defenses were his fists and a bad attitude, so he began to yell as Nick waded into the dark water between them.
“I told you, Aroyo, but you couldn’t mind your own fucking business! You’re not the boss! You don’t tell me what to do!”
Nick’s rage at what this man had done was beyond words. He didn’t answer. He just kept moving until he was on solid ground.
Lou did a little sidestep, then jumped forward, right into Nick’s fist. The smaller man staggered beneath the blow, then gathered the momentum to swing back. Nick blocked one blow, but took another on the chin.
Lou crowed, thinking he might have a chance after all, but his cocky assurance didn’t last long as they began fighting face-to-face. Nick’s reach was longer, his body stronger, and no amount of ducking and feinting, or swinging and cursing, protected Lou from Nick’s blows.
Lou continued to curse as much as he swung, sometimes connecting a body blow, but more often than not swinging at air while Nick’s blows continued to connect—to Lou’s face, to his chest, to his belly. Over and over—blow after blow—until Lou’s face was bathed in blood and his eyes were nearly swollen shut.
The wind picked up sharply, sending the silver-gray tendrils of Spanish moss and dangling kudzu vines into a frenzy. The scent of rain was in the air, but no one cared about the storm. Nick kept swinging, delivering one blow after the other, with no thought of stopping until Lou Drake was dead.
Wayman French came out of nowhere, screaming Nick’s name and telling him to stop. But Nick didn’t respond. Wayman shoved in between the two men, using the mass of his body to block the blows. He was gasping for breath, his thoughts in a panic. He’d finally caught up, but from the shape Lou was in, he might have arrived too late. In a panic, he lurched forward, screaming at the top of his voice as he pushed Nick in one direction and Lou in another.
“Damn it to hell, Aroyo! I said, stop it!”
Nick staggered backward against a tree trunk, then stood with his chest heaving and his hands still fisted.
“Is he dead yet?”
Wayman’s jaw dropped as he stared at Nick with newfound respect. The man had been serious. He’d said he would kill Lou if he tried to hurt the woman, and he’d nearly done it.
“No, he’s not dead,” Way said. “And you’re not hitting him anymore. Tug said.”
Nick shuddered where he stood, oblivious to the pain in his head and body, numb to the throbbing pulse of blood in his swelling hands and fingers. He was soaking wet, dripping blood, and still riding an adrenaline high.
Lou swayed on his feet, gave a deep, shuddering groan and went to his knees.
“I can’t see,” he moaned. “I can’t fuckin’ see.”
Nick flinched. “If you’re still breathing, you scummy bastard, it’s more than you deserve.”
Wayman turned, pointing at Nick. “No more! You made your point, now get back to the house.”
Nick fired back. “You do what you want with the son of a bitch, but you don’t tell me what to do! If you want him alive, keep him out of my sight.”
Wayman frowned. “But Tug wants—”
Nick glared at Wayman then pushed past him.
“Hey!” Wayman said. “The house is the other way.”
Nick turned, his voice thick with rage.
“I’m not going to the house. I’m going after the woman, and you both better hope to hell nothing happens to her before I find her.”
Amalie had been running for so long she no longer knew where she was. The upside to being lost was that Lou Drake was no longer behind her. She stopped at a narrow finger of water and bent over to catch her breath, bracing her hands against her knees.
As she did, she caught a brief glimpse of her own reflection, and even though it was an indistinct image, accepted that she looked like hell.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye and straightened abruptly, only to find it was the wind blowing the trees. Thankful it was nothing related to man, she took a deep breath and waded into the water again, wincing as it filled her shoes and soaked into her jeans. Blocking out the thought of snakes and alligators, she began moving toward the opposite bank.
About halfway across, she stepped off into a hole, and before she knew it, the water was over the top of her head. Before she could find footing, something bumped against her belly, sending her into a panic. She immediately shot upward, gasping for air and flailing wildly in an effort to get out of the water.
By the time she crawled out onto the bank on her hands and knees, her heart was pounding, her body shaking with exhaustion. Even more disturbing, the storm front was even closer, and it would be dark within the hour. The need for shelter was becoming a necessity.
Seconds after she pushed herself upright, something slithered out from beneath a layer of leaves and headed toward the bank.
“Cottonmouth…cottonmouth,” she shrieked, running sideways as a big gray water moccasin slid silently past her and into the swamp.
It was, for Amalie, the last straw. She tried to take a step, but her legs felt like rubber. She staggered a few yards more, and then the earth suddenly tilted beneath her feet. Once again she was on her knees, her chest heaving, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. The urge to lie down, close her eyes and never get up was overwhelming. It would be so easy to just quit. She was tired of fighting. It shouldn’t be this hard to stay alive.
Then she heard the sound of splashing water and someone shouting her name, and a new wave of panic washed over her.
Oh, my God! He found me.
She made herself get up, but when she tried to run, she staggered again, then gr
abbed onto the trunk of a tree.
“Amalie! Amalie!”
She gasped! That wasn’t Lou’s voice. It was Nick’s!
She’d thought Lou had killed him.
Thank God, oh, thank you, God…he’s alive.
She started to answer, then stopped. Did she want to be found? Could she face going back, knowing who and what would be waiting for her? A sob slipped up her throat. She didn’t know what to do. What she did know was that she was almost as afraid of the bayou at night as she was of Lou.
“Amalie! Amalie! Where are you?”
She sighed, but there was a purpose in her manner when she finally turned around.
“Here! I’m here!”
Still struggling with the knowledge that she might have just sealed her fate, she watched Nick come crashing into view.
The moment he saw her, he slid to a stop. His relief in finding her alive had him near tears.
“Amalie,” he said softly.
Then his relief quickly changed to concern as he saw the hesitation on her face. His heart sank. She was trying to decide if she trusted him enough to stop running.
Amalie sighed. She could no longer deny what was in her heart. Despite the fact that he was an escaped felon, all the panic, all the fear, all the uncertainty she had been struggling with, was gone. She took a step toward him, her decision already made.
Nick was motionless until she took that first step. After that, the joy he felt was like coming home.
“Come here, baby,” he said softly, and opened his arms.
Amalie’s breath caught on a sob, and then she started to move, stumbling toward him in small steps, then faster, as he came to meet her.
Nick caught her on the run, pulling her off her feet and into his arms as she burst into deep, gut-wrenching sobs. It tore at his conscience, ripping away the last shreds of reticence about getting involved. God help him, where she was concerned, he was already in over his head.
When Amalie buried her face against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, he pulled her closer.
