“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