by Jana DeLeon
Tanner looked over at Max, expecting his brother to launch an argument on that assessment, as he had done since they were kids, but he just nodded.
Well, didn’t that just beat all?
Tanner shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, trying to come up with a reason for refusing that sounded even remotely sane. He wasn’t about to tell them the truth. The two men standing in front of him had their lives together. The more difficult the task, the more excited they’d be about it. They couldn’t possibly understand the baggage he carried around with him that he was unable to release.
Finally, he sighed. “You really think I’m the best person for the job?”
“You’re the only man for the job,” Holt said. “This case is time-sensitive and we can’t afford to lose even a day.”
“Fine,” Tanner said, “I’ll do it.”
Holt and Max both broke out in grins.
“That’s great,” Max said.
Tanner wished he could share his brother’s enthusiasm. “So, are you going to tell me what I’m tracking?”
The grins vanished from their faces and Holt glanced at Max, who looked off down the bayou. A bad feeling washed over Tanner. What in the world had he just agreed to?
“It’s not a what,” Holt said. “It’s a who, maybe.”
“You don’t know what I’m tracking? You said this was a vandalism case. It shouldn’t be hard to determine animal from human destruction.”
“This case isn’t that cut-and-dried.”
Tanner felt his frustration with the stalling increasing. “Just spit it out, already.”
“The eyewitnesses saw something that matches the description of the Honey Island Swamp Monster.”
Tanner stared at his brother. “You have lost your mind. I suspected it earlier, but now I know for sure.”
Holt held up a hand. “I know how it sounds, but the vandalism is real and the witnesses are credible, especially the one who hired us. Whether it’s a man trying to scare her or a real monster, we need to know and we need the vandalism to stop.”
“Her? The client is a woman?”
“Josette Bettencourt. She inherited her family’s plantation when her dad died and is turning it into a bed-and-breakfast. Do you know her?”
Tanner nodded, afraid the flood of emotion that coursed through him would filter out if he spoke. Yeah, he knew her, all right.
She was one of the main reasons he’d vowed never to return to the Honey Island Swamp.
Chapter Two
Tanner stood at the threshold of the massive front doors of the Bettencourt family home and wondered what the hell he’d let his brothers talk him into. Of all the things in the world he’d never wanted to do, returning to the town of Miel and the Honey Island Swamp was number two on the list. Seeing Josie Bettencourt again was number one.
He lifted his hand to ring the doorbell, then dropped it again and glanced around. No one had seen him drive up. There was still time to leave and tell Holt he’d made a mistake. Max could take the case. He was a decent tracker.
Before he could cement his decision, the front door flew open and Josie Bettencourt jumped back with a startled cry.
Tanner stared, at a complete loss for words. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, and that was saying a lot. Her long auburn hair fell in waves across her shoulders, and the morning sun reflected off her light green eyes. She was taller than he remembered, but still had a body that was both athletic and feminine at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”
“I just got here,” he said, angry at himself for fumbling for words. “I hadn’t rung it yet.”
“Are you from the detective agency?”
“Yes. I’m Tanner LeDoux.”
He studied her face to see if the name registered with her. Granted, when he was old enough to make the decision, he’d dropped his father’s last name and taken his mother’s name like his half brothers, and no one had called him by his first name, William, in years. But he’d wondered if his appearance would create a spark of recognition with her.
She smiled pleasantly and extended her hand. “Josie Bettencourt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He shook her hand, not sure whether to be relieved she didn’t recognize him or disappointed that he’d never left an impression on her to begin with.
“So,” she said, “where would you like to start?”
“I read the case file before coming, so I’m aware of everything you told Alex. Has anything happened since you spoke with her?”
She motioned him inside. “I just put on a pot of coffee. Might as well have a cup while I fill you in.”
Tanner stepped across the threshold and into the old plantation home for the first time in his life and followed Josie down a long hallway to the back of the house. It worried him that so much had happened in the span of a day that it took having coffee to cover it all. Josie’s voice, when she’d invited him back, sounded resigned, frustrated and more than a little worried—none of them good signs.
The enormous kitchen stretched across the back of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows making up most of the back wall. The view of the pool and gardens was beautiful, in spite of the deadness of winter. Pots of poinsettias lined a brick patio and chairs with overstuffed cushions surrounded an outdoor fireplace. The house had always held a level of class above anything else in town and so had the occupants, a fact Josie’s father had been quick to point out to him many years ago.
“How do you like it?”
Josie’s voice broke into his thoughts and for a split second, his mind flashed to something other than coffee. One look at her slim, toned body in formfitting jeans and T-shirt was enough to remind him of things he had no right to consider.
“Black is fine,” he said.
She handed him a steaming mug of black coffee and smiled. “You’re easy.”
He took the cup and downed a big gulp of the hot liquid, trying not to think of the connotations of that phrase, either. At the moment, it hovered dangerously close to the truth.
“I like to keep things simple,” he said, as much to remind himself as answer her.
She poured herself a cup and added a bit of sugar to it. “I prefer that, as well, but it seems the universe is working against me.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s happened since you talked to Alex?”
“My work crew found another section of fencing down. They’d just installed it the day before.”
“So more of the same things happening?”
“Not exactly. This time it was different.” She set her mug on the counter and blew out a breath. “This time there was something red on the fence posts. It looked like blood.”
Tanner straightened up. “Did you take a sample?”
She nodded. “I sent it to the Fish and Wildlife Laboratory in New Orleans for testing, but they said it could take weeks with their backlog.”
“I’ll make some phone calls and see if they can speed things up.”
“Thank you,” she said, her relief apparent.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes.” She looked down, averting her eyes from his.
“Are you sure?”
She raised her eyes back to his. “It’s everything that you need to deal with. The rest is my problem.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
She sighed. “A couple of men on the crew left the job this morning. They’re spooked, and I probably won’t be able to replace them. Word is out and there are only so many qualified workers around these parts. Most are working reconstruction in New Orleans.”
“So you’re delayed a bit, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“If the delays continue, I can’t open the bed-and-breakfast on time. I have people booked for New Year’s Eve.”
“Why would swamp fencing hold up the opening?”
“Apparently, the insurance company considers it a liabil
ity if I don’t have the fencing and won’t write the policy I need to open.”
Okay, it was unfortunate, but not a crisis. “You can probably get some workers to come over from New Orleans if you pay a bonus. Worst case, you’ve have to refund deposits for the bookings and reschedule them if you think the property’s not inhabitable by then.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
He studied her face, the way her hands shook as she poured the rest of her coffee into the sink. Why all the concern about not opening on time, but the lack of interest in paying a bonus to acquire enough workers to get things finished on time? Surely, not every contractor in Louisiana would be afraid to work in the Honey Island Swamp, especially if the price was right.
She was hiding something, but what? Holt had warned him that the hardest part of the job was figuring out if the things people were hiding were relevant to the case. He hadn’t been on the job five minutes and could already see that clear as day. He took a sip of his coffee to avoid sighing. This sort of issue was exactly why he’d chosen a career path in the swamp among the creatures. They didn’t present complicated problems like humans.
“Well, if that’s all,” he said, “I’d like to start by taking a look at the place you saw the creature.”
She hesitated for just a moment, and he thought she was going to let out some of what was really bothering her, but finally, she nodded. “Let me grab a long-sleeved shirt and put on my boots. Then I’ll take you there myself.”
She left the room without as much as a backward glance. He downed the rest of his coffee and stared across the acreage to the tree line where the swamp began. Something was moving below the surface. He could feel it.
The question was, how much did Josie know and how involved in it was she?
* * *
JOSIE PULLED ON HER GLOVES as they entered the trail in the swamp. Southern Louisiana rarely got cold enough for the gloves to be a necessity, but the bare branches and dying foliage were sharp and scratched the skin with direct contact. She noticed Tanner had pulled leather gloves from his jeans pocket as soon as they’d neared the tree line. He wore hiking boots and a long-sleeve shirt, which made sense as Alex had told her he was an expert tracker. Even the pistol shoved casually in his waistband only comforted her that she’d made the right decision.
But the rest of the picture was the absolute last thing she’d been expecting when he’d introduced himself as the detective she’d hired. She’d expected someone older, rougher, maybe someone who’d lived in the swamp for a while. Someone with graying hair, scars and maybe even a limp. Or maybe she’d seen too much late-night television.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Tanner’s looks should be the least of her worries. She had the bank pushing her every day for payment, and hiring a detective was the last chance she had to save her family’s plantation from foreclosure. It felt like a long shot, but if it worked, the money would be well spent, even if she had to suffer the discomfort of explaining her precarious financial position. She’d avoided the subject in the kitchen when he’d suggested paying higher wages for workers, but she wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.
She was a bit surprised that Tanner hadn’t asked about the creature she saw, but maybe he thought she’d been mistaken. It rankled her that people discounted what she said simply because it sounded implausible, but she wasn’t going to lie just to make people comfortable. Now, if only she could convince him to work quickly, her New Year’s business might be spared.
“So, Alex tells me you were a game warden,” she said, unable to tolerate the silence or her mental wanderings any longer.
“Yeah, I’ve spent almost ten years in the Atchafalaya Basin.”
“But your family is in Vodoun?”
“They are now. Everyone scattered after high school, but my brothers have settled down there now with their wives.”
“That’s nice.”
“I suppose so. If that’s what you’re into.”
His dry tone made her smile just a bit. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only person in Louisiana jaded about love.”
He didn’t respond, but she didn’t think much of it. In her experience, most men weren’t exactly dying to have long discussions about romantic entanglements. At the moment, the last thing she was interested in was a romantic entanglement, which was a good thing since the tall, muscular man behind her was enough to tempt any woman with clear vision.
Something about his slightly unkempt brown hair and the two-day shadow on his face screamed masculinity in a way she’d never noticed in another man, and during her modeling days, she’d seen many prime specimens. The tanned skin and green eyes only made a beautiful picture perfect.
And familiar.
She frowned as the thought registered completely. There was something familiar about him. It was so brief and fleeting in her mind that she couldn’t get a grasp on it, but she had no doubt that she’d seen him somewhere before.
“Did you grow up in the area?” she asked.
“Mostly, but we moved around a lot. Never stayed in any one town for more than a couple of years, except Vodoun.”
That probably explained the familiarity. She’d been a cheerleader in high school, and her school had had a big rivalry with Vodoun High School. Tanner looked about the same age as her. She’d probably seen him at a game. He certainly had the build of an athlete.
“Is this the area?” His voice broke into her thoughts as they stepped into the clearing with the damaged fencing.
“Yes,” she said, switching her mind back to the present. “I was standing over there, just at the edge of the water. I saw...whatever it was poke its head through the bushes on the far-side bank.”
“And it was early evening?”
“The sun was setting, but it was just at the edge of the tree line. The light was still reflected off the pond.”
He stepped up to the edge of the water and studied the bank, probably trying to estimate just how good her view had been from that distance and in that amount of light. Apparently satisfied, he nodded and stepped away from the water.
“Did you search the bank on the other side?”
“Not that evening,” she said, embarrassed to come right out and admit she’d run for the house like a scared little girl. “But I came back the next morning with the plantation foreman, Emmett Vernon.”
“And that’s when you took the cast of the footprint?”
“Yes. And sent it to the Wildlife and Fisheries State Lab, along with some of the surrounding soil so that they could estimate weight.”
He looked back at her, frowning. “But they couldn’t identify it?”
“No. They said it didn’t match the print of any known animal in the universe, much less the state of Louisiana.”
“But surely, they gave you some information.”
She nodded. “They said it was made by a bipedal creature, over six feet tall and approximately two hundred pounds. The shape was somewhat similar to humans, but with only four toes and webbing between them.”
She studied his face as she delivered the description. Everyone from Mystere Parish and likely a lot of people around the country knew exactly what she was describing. All of this was in the information she’d given Alex the day before, but if there was ever going to be a time Tanner called her crazy, this was going to be it.
He gazed back across the pond and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. “Well, I guess we’re going to find out if the legends are real.”
Josie stared at him. “So you believe me?”
“I believe you saw what you saw, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you don’t think it’s a swamp monster.”
“I don’t have to think it’s anything. I just have to track it down and stop it from vandalizing your property.”
He turned and started off down the bank around the perimeter of the pond. She stared after him, trying to squelch the growing frustration she felt over the entire situation. He
was humoring her.
Fine by her.
If he was as good a tracker as he claimed, then he should have no problem finding the vandal. Then everyone who thought she was a frightened drama queen could kiss her skinny butt.
Starting with Tanner LeDoux.
Chapter Three
Josie put her hands on her hips and glared at the plantation foreman, Emmett Vernon. The man had worked for her father since he was a boy—over forty years—but he wasn’t going to make it to retirement if he kept up with his current attitude.
“I don’t understand your problem, Emmett,” she said. “The detective will take a big weight off our shoulders so that we can go back to the jobs we need to be concentrating on.”
Emmett took a gulp from his water bottle, swished it around in his mouth and spit it into the hedges near the front entrance of the house. She struggled to keep her cool. He knew she couldn’t stand his filthy habits, and she would swear he did it on purpose to aggravate her.
“You mean the business of turning your daddy’s life’s work into a hotel for snooty people?”
“How many times have I told you I don’t have a choice?”
“Yeah, right. You were gone for years prancing on that runway in France. You mean to tell me you didn’t get paid?”
“My financial situation is none of your business. You get your paycheck every week. I’m telling you to do your job to earn it.”
Emmett narrowed his eyes at her. “You saying I’m slacking?”
She drew herself up straight, not about to back down from him again. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Half the time, I can’t find you when I need you and neither can the work crew. You’re supposed to be managing the work on this plantation. Right now that work is in the swamp and that’s where I expect you to be, along with the crew.”
“You want me to stand around watching people work?”
“No, I want you to pick up a post and help. Like it or not, the days of you standing around spitting are over.”
The man glared at her, then spun around and stalked across the lawn to the barn. She let out a sigh and leaned back against one of the huge columns that stretched across the front porch of the house.
