Waters Run Deep Page 19

  “Don’t tell, Nate. Please. Not until my grandmere is stronger. She’s not doing well, and I don’t think she can take the idea I’m not hers.”

  He paused, weighing his words. “But you are hers, Della. And you’re ours, too. She raised you and, I’m presuming, loved you. Even she can understand how you feel…and how we feel.”

  “Maybe,” she whispered, “but please, I know it’s hard and maybe it’s wrong, but can I please have a bit more time? I’ll come to Bayou Bridge soon. I promise.”

  He wanted to yell at her, but he knew her world had been rocked. He pictured his mother, the way her eyes had flooded with relief and joy, and knew Della couldn’t wait much longer. “Yeah, we won’t tell the world, but you need to come to Beau Soleil. For our mother’s sake.”

  Again, there was a long pause. “Okay. I’ll come, but I won’t make any long-term promises. I’m not sure I want to—” She broke off. “I don’t know if I can be called Della. Don’t know if I’m ready to be the girl you lost. I’m me. Not her.”

  “None of us is asking you to give up who you are. We’re asking you to give us a chance. We all have to go slowly.” He congratulated himself on restraint. He really wanted to tell her to get her ass to Beau Soleil so his mother could finally heal, so the smile could finally reach her eyes and stay there. He wanted to tell her to stop being selfish. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t know anything about his long-lost sister…nor about what she felt. He’d always been a Dufrene. Always had an identity. So he bit his tongue. “If your grandmother is stable enough, why not drive up this weekend? You said you have a boyfriend, right? See if he might escort you to the Arch Angels Feast Day at St. Aquinas.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Yeah, I’m on the committee. Mom is chairing the event so she can’t have a meltdown when she meets you. Abram won’t be there—ULB’s playing Florida—and Darby’s still in Spain.”

  She sighed. “Okay. I can do this. I’m scared as hell, but I can do it.”

  “Of course you can. You’re a Dufrene,” he said.

  This time she didn’t correct him. Instead they confirmed times for a meet-up at Beau Soleil before going to St. Aquinas for the festival, where there would be a shrimp boil and several crafts booths, plus bouncies for the kids. Perfect time for strangers to be in town. No one would think it odd they hosted friends or a cousin or two, especially since Picou chaired the committee.

  Nate hung up and turned the shower on. He had a full day ahead—one that didn’t need the complication of long-lost sisters or the comparative prices of bounce-house rentals.

  No, he couldn’t think about those things.

  Because today he’d figure out who in the hell had been sending the threats to the Keene family.

  Because one thing was certain—whoever it was was in his town.

  * * *

  THE FRENCH RESTAURANT on the main drag was closed at two, as was tradition in the small villages of France. The owner, Madame Jacqueline, bustled in the back cleaning up from lunch while Nate and Annie hunkered at a table for four, notes and files spread out before them.

  Annie took a sip of the decaf coffee Madame Jacqueline had placed in front of her and eyed the doberg cake sitting in front of Nate. Seven layers of yellow cake covered in chocolate ganache. She should have asked for her own piece.

  “You can have a bite,” Nate said, not bothering to look up.

  “I shouldn’t,” she said, trying to refocus on the lab report from the second threat—the one with the dead mockingbird.

  “It’s worth it. Jacqueline makes the best.”

  “Oui,” Jacqueline called out, clinking glasses together behind the bar.

  Annie grabbed the fork and stole a bite. She felt speechless for a moment. It was that mind-blowing.

  “Told you,” Nate said, jotting something down on her notes. She was surprised he could even read her chicken scratch.

  “Yeah. Mind-blowing,” she said, licking the fork.

  “Don’t do that,” he warned, his gaze meeting hers above the piece of paper he held in his hand. His brown eyes had melted into chocolate pools of want. It made her pelvis hum. Not good.

  She tossed the fork onto the plate. Its clatter broke the moment.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She glanced out the window at tourists hurrying by. Busy for a Wednesday. Jacqueline had told her in broken English that many came in the fall because the summer was too hot. Today a ladies’ church group from Denham Springs antiqued along the crowded storefronts lining the Bayou Tete. Several paused, peering in to see why the bistro was closed.

  “Okay, let’s go over what we know and what we don’t know,” she said.

  “We don’t know who the person threatening Spencer is.”

  “Uh, yeah. But let’s go over the suspects.”

  “Mick is out. He has an alibi for the night you were attacked.”

  “I wasn’t necessarily attacked, plus I still have my eye on him. Besides, what’s his alibi?”

  He glanced up, his expression changing, growing fierce. “Anything that leaves you looking the way you do we call assault. And Gemma Dubois is his alibi.”

  “What was he doing with— Oh.” Anne nodded. “I see.”

  Annie tapped the table. “You read Jimmy’s report?”

  “He thinks Jane is jealous of Tawny. Big deal.”

  “But it’s not mere jealousy. It’s deep-seeded anger.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not buying it. We’ll need something concrete to get a search warrant for her hotel room. I can bring her in for questioning, but we don’t have enough to move a judge. She’s barren. That’s it. Probably one or two others in the production company with fertility issues. Doesn’t seem like motive to me.”

  She frowned. “Well, you weren’t there. You didn’t see the way she looked, and it’s not just the not-having-babies thing. It’s Carter. Tawny snaked him from Jane. Tawny got the roles, the diamond and the Beverly Hills dream. Jane got a douche commercial.”

  Nate made a face. “I’ll concede that point, so maybe.”

  Annie nodded.

  “I’ve read through your files from Sterling, and I see this Rudy guy as a viable suspect. Any chance he’s hanging around down here?”

  Annie shook her head. “He was in Oregon filming during the initial threat and has since popped up in Indiana visiting for his brother’s wedding. He’s off the grid as a suspect.”

  Something flitted into her mind and skipped away again before she could grab it.

  “What?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Just have this thought that keeps flirting with me, but I can’t pin it down. Something’s been bothering me but…”

  Annie hated that feeling—knowing something that was in the back of her mind. An elusive question.

  Nate grimaced but said nothing. He had to know what she meant since he’d spent countless hours in investigation. Nothing worse than feeling so close to a break but having it dance away.

  “So I see you have background on many of the key employees at Keene Bandit Productions. Any interviews conducted with number crunchers, administrative assistants, or other personnel still in L.A.? Anyone there nursing a grudge against Tawny? Some lonely secretary who had her sights on golden boy?” he asked.

  “No. Not that we could tell.” She bit her lip. “You did some phone interviews with family, but what about past romances? High school grudges?”

  “Takes a lot of manpower and time. Right now we’re relying on Tawny and Carter being honest with us about their past. We feel as though they are, but sometimes people hold things back, even inconsequential things.”

  They stared at the files in front of them.

  Nate glanced at her. “Let’s allow things to marinate and get out of here for a bit.”

  Something fluttered in her stomach. His subtle cologne had played with her senses for the past hour, not to mention the accidental touches as they passed files between them. She wanted t
o ignore the desire unfurling in her belly, but it was damned hard to do with the way his presence dominated the space. She’d spent a good three minutes studying his hands. The well-manicured nails, the crinkly hairs on the back, the veins—all of which made her yearn for them on her body. The craziness was back. “And do what?”

  Her question brought a sharp glance. Then heat. Lots and lots of heat.

  “Not what we want to do.”

  She smiled. “So?”

  “Let’s go to church.”

  She laughed. “Now, that’s definitely on the opposite end of the spectrum. What are we going to do there? Confession?”

  He snorted and started gathering up the papers in front of them. She followed suit, tucking her laptop into the side of her small rolling suitcase and fastening the luggage lock so prying eyes couldn’t see her true purpose in working for the Keene family. “We could, but I’m not sure I’m altogether sorry for what we’ve done.”

  She glanced up. How could he not be sorry about their lapse in judgment? The ramifications of their indiscretion were tucked in the back of her mind, but they came out to float up front during the quiet moments in between everything else she had on her mind.

  “Probably the best place to keep my mind off sin, and it’s a great place to sort things out. Maybe something will occur to us. Something that will give us a new angle to work.” He snapped his leather accordion file and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Besides I’m on the committee for the Arch Angels Feast Day this Saturday. It’s kind of a big deal around here. We’ll have people from all over, including my newly found sibling.”

  Annie raised her eyebrows. “She’s coming?”

  He nodded. “I hope. I haven’t told Mom yet. Scared to get her too stirred up. She’s the committee chairperson, but I’ve got some things to check on at St. Aquinas. I may need your expert opinion.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, as a nanny. I got bounce-house problems.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  He smiled and called out to Madame Jacqueline. “Later, Mademoiselle. Thanks for the cake and coffee. The best in the parish. If you ever leave that old coon-dog Frank, I’ll make an honest woman of you.”

  “You are a rascal, Lieutenant. Somezing I admire in a man.” The older woman grinned and wagged a finger as he opened the door for Annie. She waved her thanks to the French café owner. The coffee had been divine and she didn’t want to think about how much she’d have to run if she’d eaten more of the cake.

  “Ride with me?” Nate asked, unlocking the doors of his SUV with the remote.

  She nodded, opening the trunk of her rental sitting next to his and setting the rolling suitcase with her files inside. She grabbed her sunglasses and slipped inside the already cool interior of Nate’s car.

  They didn’t talk as Nate wove through the small town streets. They didn’t need to. There was a comfortable kinship between them frosting over the throbbing desire they had for one another.

  Nate pulled in front of an old chapel, framed by the ever-present twisted live oaks with their lacy shawls of moss. The stained-glass cathedral window was subdued in the bright midafternoon light, but would likely be spectacular from within when the sun set through the multifacted colored glass. The weathered white stone of the façade seemed to hold Gothic secrets, and the double doors were held open as if inviting passersby to lay down burdens and come inside. Annie loved it on sight.

  “My church,” Nate said, climbing from the car and waving with flourish. In his eyes she saw his love for the quaint building before them. “St. Aquinas.”

  She stepped from the car. “It’s beautiful.”

  They walked toward the open doors as Annie took in the intricate scrollwork framing the doors, along with the frolicking cherubs. The architecture was very European, almost if transposed from a village in Italy or France.

  “His great-great-grandfather built it,” the voice said from behind them. They spun to find a priest gazing up at the church, a twinkle in his bright green eyes.

  “Father Benoit,” Nate said, holding out a hand.

  The young priest took it. “Nate.”

  Then he turned to Annie and offered his hand. “Phillip Benoit.”

  “Annie Perez,” she said, hating herself for lying to a man of the cloth—the best-looking man of the cloth she’d ever met. Father Benoit looked about thirty with dark hair, a strong chin and broad shoulders. He had to have the local ladies clamoring for a shot at the confession booth. “I’m—”

  “Annie’s staying with my mother. She’s the nanny for the Keene family and generously agreed to give us her expert opinion on the children’s activities.”

  Annie thought Nate very restrained for not laughing as he blurted the last statement. Expert opinion was stretching it by a mile. She nodded like a trained seal.

  “Glad to meet you, and thanks for coming with Nate. He should have attended the first committee meeting and he wouldn’t have ended up in charge of children’s activities,” Father Benoit said with a laugh before turning to Nate. “By the way, I got emails from two different companies about doing the jumpy blow-up things, and they’re both under the impression we want all their bouncers for the day.”

  Nate’s expression reminded her of the time her father had been constipated. “Great.”

  “Let’s go inside.” The priest shooed them up the concrete steps and into the church where the dimness blanketed them in welcome air-conditioning. Father Benoit closed the doors behind them, trapping inside a mesmerizing space. A full Raphaelite mural graced the expanse of the high arched ceiling while worn mahogany pews gleamed with what smelled like lemon oil. Candles flickered fervent prayers while soft lights illuminated the beauty of the altar.

  “The exterminators just left. Those pesky sugar ants, God’s creatures or not, have caused way too many problems for the parishioners. I always air out. Never know about those chemicals.” Father Benoit motioned them toward the altar, through the room where the sacristy and vestments sat and into his inner sanctum, which was vastly different from the holy beauty of the sanctuary. The priest’s office was very minimalist with cheerful modern art.

  “Sit,” he said, settling himself behind his desk, unwrapping a lollipop before offering them one from his candy stash sitting on the corner of the desk. Both she and Nate waved them off. Father Benoit shrugged, jabbed the grape lolly in his mouth and propped his brown bucks on the desk. He pulled the treat from his mouth and used it as a pointer. “Now, let’s go over the schedule and make sure you have everything set for the children’s activities and the shrimp boil. Both companies are sending someone to meet with me, but this is yours to handle. I’ll give you the numbers for the bouncer rentals.”

  Nate slid his eyes to Annie. “Sure you want to help?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Father Benoit looked puzzled, but charged forth, pulling out a list and checking and double-checking all that would go on in the next few days. Annie listened with half an ear, the rest of her focused on Nate and what the devil was going on between them. She’d petitioned him to let whatever they had between them simmer until after they found the person threatening Spencer, but things kept bubbling over. It seemed only a matter of time before they found themselves drunk with passion, consumed by overflowing emotions. She didn’t want to end up sprawled under a tiki bar hunting for her panties again.

  The major question: Was it more than sex between them? She thought so. But was it enough to pin her hope for a future on?

  The thought scared her.

  Great irony of her life—Anna Mendes, fearless in the face of threat, able to stare down the barrel of a rifle or tangle with an unfeeling predator, was afraid of having her heart broken.

  She could step outside her body and see why—the death of her mother, the absence of her father, the colossal disaster of an engagement—and know why she feared hurt, but that didn’t make it any easier to unlock the fortress she’d built aro
und her.

  “Annie?”

  She jerked her head toward Nate. “Huh?”

  “I asked if you think we need both the Beary bouncy-bear bouncer and the All Sports bouncer. They’re the same shape.”

  Annie narrowed her eyes. “Does it matter?”

  Nate and Father Benoit looked at each other and shrugged.

  “You’re a woman,” Father Benoit stated as if that explained everything.

  “And?”

  “You’re supposed to know about this stuff.” Nate shoved an advertisement showing a range of blow-up bounce houses. She took the brochure, glanced at it and then back up at the men.

  “I don’t know. Um, why don’t you get the Supreme Super Jumper? It’s got a slide, an obstacle course and a bouncer.”

  Both men nodded and she almost laughed at the absurdity of her sitting in a Catholic church as an undercover nanny with a good-looking priest, the man she could love and a brochure of bounce-house rentals. All they needed was a bar and they’d be a joke of the day.

  She handed the brochure back to Nate. “I’m going to take a walk.”

  Both men looked blankly at her.

  “Um, to check on room for the bouncers.” She needed to get away for a moment. Sitting next to Nate as if she were more than a temporary partner in solving a case made her feel weird. She needed air.

  She didn’t wait for either man to respond, merely walked out the door in which she’d entered. Stepping into the place where vestments and brass candlesticks awaited polish, she spied a screened door with a heavier door behind it and pushed through. It led to a small garden courtyard with a statue of what looked to be the Virgin Mary but could have been any other martyred saint. Water flowed cheerfully at her feet.

  Annie crossed the garden, passing several benches and flowering urns before pushing through a creaking iron gate to the side lawn of the church. The lot was shaded by live oaks and flanked by a pea-gravel parking lot. Thick woods held back in places by aging brick partially enclosed the area to be used for the feast day. Orange port-o-lets hunkered far away near a stand of trees and two funeral home tents sheltered heavy folding tables. Several booths sat near the church while a huge barbecue pit bearing a purple-and-black panther paw squared things off toward the back.