Tanner laughed. “You ended up back in your hometown and acquired a wife. I call that a living nightmare, not fine.”
Max shrugged. “Before now I would have, too. Things change and this time it was for the better.”
“The bottom line,” Holt said, “is that we need you. I’m already committed to another case that’s keeping me hopping. I have two cases in the pipeline, but you are the most qualified to handle this one. Max is a good tracker, but he’s not you.”
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