by Connie Mann
He saw caution enter Charlee’s eyes when his words registered. She scanned the surrounding swamp as he stood. “You grab that side of this big lug, and I’ll take the other.”
Josh tried to help but didn’t accomplish much. Charlee and Hunter half carried him between them. They stopped at a fallen log tucked between two cypress trees and set him down. He immediately tried to lie down.
Hunter exchanged looks with Charlee. “Who’s the president, Hollywood?”
Josh mumbled the correct name, touched his head, and winced. “Dang.”
He watched Charlee check Josh’s eyes again, relieved the pupils were almost the same size. So they let him sleep while they waited.
And wait they did. Their wet clothes had dried and gotten damp again with sweat by the time an FWC boat flew around the bend and came to a rocking stop before it crashed into the debris.
“Lieutenant Boudreau! Hollywood!” Sanchez manned the boat, searching the riverbank.
Hunter looked over at Charlee. “Stay here and stay down.”
She nodded, and he made his way to the bank, all the while making sure they didn’t have company watching them. He didn’t get the sense anyone was out there, but he wasn’t taking any chances with Charlee’s life or either of his men.
Hunter grabbed the line Sanchez tossed him and tied the boat off to a cypress tree. Sanchez scanned the area, wide-eyed. “What the heck happened?”
“Someone blew up Josh’s boat.”
The other man cursed. “Are you all okay? Let me get EMS out here.”
“Thanks. We also need to get the crime scene techs to collect evidence before it floats downriver. Josh has a concussion, but we need to make sure that’s all it is.”
Sanchez spoke into the radio strapped to his shoulder, letting dispatch know he’d found them and asking for EMS and the crime scene unit. He finished up and spotted Charlee. “You okay? Didn’t expect to see you here, too.”
Charlee rolled her eyes. “I somehow thought I’d be safer with them.” She nodded toward Hunter and Josh.
One corner of Sanchez’s mouth quirked up as he shook his head. “That’ll teach you. Glad you’re okay, Tanner.”
Almost another hour went by before two more boats arrived on scene, one to process the evidence and take what they could salvage back with them, the other to transport Josh, Charlee, and Hunter back to town and the hospital.
Sanchez walked up beside Hunter as Fish and the EMTs helped get Josh aboard her boat. “This is getting really out of control, fast.”
Hunter watched Charlee help her brother and nodded. “I know. We need to figure out who this perp is and stop him, quick.”
* * *
Despite outside temperatures in the midnineties, Charlee couldn’t seem to warm up. It seemed like she was always cold lately, right down to the marrow of her bones. The ER staff had checked her stitches and pronounced them healing just fine, but still, she shivered, and not just from the subzero temps in the emergency room.
They’d come within seconds of dying today.
This was no accident. She couldn’t explain it away, couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t exactly what it looked like: attempted murder.
The only thing not clear was the intended target. Was it Josh, since it was his FWC boat? Was it Hunter? Or her? But she wasn’t supposed to go along today, so how would someone have known to set off the bomb?
She paced back and forth in the waiting room, trying to make sense of it all while the doctors ran tests on Josh. Hunter huddled with Sanchez and Fish and with Pete, too, who’d come flying into the room a few minutes ago.
She just wanted to go back in time, to last week, or maybe last year, before the world as she knew it went completely crazy.
She couldn’t wrap her mind around someone who would kill a teenager. Or slaughter innocent animals. Never mind deliberately setting a bomb. In a boat.
Hunter materialized beside her, and she jumped. “Josh is okay, right?” Maybe he could get more information out of the nurses than she could. So far, all they were saying was, “You’ll know something soon.”
“They are keeping him overnight for observation, and Pete got a deputy assigned to stay outside his room and make sure he isn’t disturbed.”
Charlee heard what he wasn’t saying. “You think whoever did this will try again when they realize he’s still alive.”
“We still don’t know who the intended target was. It might have been Josh. But it could have been me, or even you, though that’s a stretch, with your last-minute arrival.”
He was thinking the same things she was, which bolstered her confidence in her thought process. “What’s next? How do we catch this guy?”
His smile was grim. “For now, we let Josh rest.” He checked his watch. “And we grab something to eat and get some rest, too. The crime scene wizards will do their magic with the bomb fragments, and you and I will go see Travis in the morning.”
“Travis? You think he had something to do with this?”
“He has a history we just found out about.” He used his badge to get her past the nurse’s station and into the cubicle where Josh dozed.
“Hey, Hollywood. You okay?” Charlee stepped over to the bed and brushed a hand over his arm, trying not to cry at how vulnerable and battered her big, tough brother looked against the stark-white sheets.
His eyes opened slowly, and he sent her a loopy-looking grin. “Hey there, Sis. You doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not the one that got banged in the head, remember?”
He squinted, like he was trying to think. “Yeah, you did.” He glanced from her to Hunter and back. “Didn’t you?”
Her smile was a little shaky. “I did, Big Brother. But not today. Today was apparently your day to get smacked in the head.”
The curtain parted, and their father raced in, stopping short at the sight of Josh in the bed.
“Hey, Dad. Today was my turn to get whacked.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Charlee snapped, and Josh looked momentarily confused.
Then he blinked several times and apparently realized what he’d said. “I meant smacked in the head. Don’t go getting all dramatic on me, Sis.” He squinted, as though trying to think. “Will you call Sanchez, ask if he’ll cover basketball practice for me at the community center today? He’s usually there tutoring at the same time. I don’t want the boys to think I ditched them.”
“Of course, I will.” Charlee smiled, so relieved he was okay, her throat closed with emotion. Hearing that the boys were his first concern, she knew his heart was going to be okay, too. Eventually. A day at a time. She blinked back happy tears.
Hunter turned to her father. “Charlee and I need to go check on some things. Josh is staying the night here, and Pete requested a deputy stay outside his door to make sure he’s able to rest.”
Her father looked from one to the other, understood what they weren’t saying. He ran a hand over his face, eyes worried, but nodded. “Keep my girl safe, Boudreau.”
Hunter nodded gravely. “Yes, sir. You have my word on that.”
* * *
Charlee felt like she was staggering on the last tattered dregs of her strength. Every muscle ached, and her head had begun throbbing again. They’d picked up fast food on the way back to her cottage and eaten all the fries in the truck while they were still hot. Once at the cottage, she barely managed to choke down the burger. She wasn’t hungry but knew she needed to keep her strength up.
She stayed in the shower long enough that she almost used up all the hot water before she remembered Hunter. He didn’t deserve a cold shower just because she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering.
Finally, clad in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she crawled under the covers and, thanks to the pain meds, eventually dropped off to sleep.
In her dreams, she fought against hands that tried to squeeze the air from her throat and ran from alligators with gaping jaws and bouquets of wildflowers on their heads, strapped to explosives.
* * *
He settled at his computer and inserted the SD card he’d pulled from the trail camera outside Charlee’s cottage earlier today. They’d almost spotted him as he’d climbed out of the tree, when Hunter and Charlee suddenly burst out the door and headed down the dirt road, walking and talking. Actually, they were doing more than that. They were flirting, and it infuriated him. The way they snuck glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking made bile rise in his throat. His hands clenched into fists.
Charlee was his. Why didn’t anyone understand that? He wouldn’t let anyone get between them.
He started scrolling through the photos, grinning as he watched Hunter run around the cottage when he’d left the snake on Charlee’s bed. He wondered if she remembered telling him about her fear of snakes.
He squinted, frustrated that the quality on some of the photos wasn’t clear enough to see her expressions up close. He’d really wanted one of the new cell trail cameras, so it would send the photos directly to his cell phone, but the signal out at the Outpost wasn’t always strong enough, and he didn’t want to miss anything important. Like when she realized Josh was dead.
She would grieve. He longed to see her face as she cried, to absorb her every teardrop and gather them like a balm, a soothing ointment for the ache in his heart. Oh, yes, he would enjoy her grief.
Sleep tight, Charlee. You’ll need your rest for the days ahead.
He wished he could see the look in her eyes when she first woke up and realized anew that her brother was dead. He lived for her pain, actually. She’d understand, finally, what he’d been going through. She’d fully experience how one person’s actions could snatch away someone you loved, changing everything. Forever.
He looked forward to watching her suffer, even if he couldn’t watch it in real time. He’d waited a long time for it.
He took his eyes off the monitor to watch the small television mounted to the wall. Time for the news. He grabbed the remote and clicked back and forth between the stations, his agitation growing as the minutes ticked by. Where was the breaking story about an FWC officer’s death? Why wasn’t anybody reporting it?
He spent the next half hour going back and forth, back and forth, but there was nothing. Were they keeping it quiet? But why? There was no reason to.
In disgust, he turned off the television. He was tempted to throw the remote against the wall, but he didn’t want to make too much noise, didn’t want to wake him. That would put him all out of sorts.
He cruised the internet instead, and finally, finally found an obscure little tidbit about some dead alligators and a boat explosion.
It took a minute to register what hadn’t been said. When it did, his blood ran hot. Josh hadn’t died. Her brother was still alive.
He lunged to his feet, gripped the remote until the plastic cover popped off and cut his hand. He tossed it on the floor and strode outside. He paced, desperate to get his roiling emotions under control. He wanted to rage and smash things, but that wouldn’t help. Would only draw unwanted attention.
No, he needed calm. Control. He gripped his head and forced his breathing to slow. Gradually, he calmed down, and his brain kicked back in.
This was merely a minor setback. His plan was still in play.
All he needed was patience.
Her suffering would come.
And after…she would die.
Chapter 13
Bleary-eyed and stiffer than she’d have thought possible, Charlee shuffled into the kitchen the next morning and stopped short to find Hunter standing at the stove, scrambling eggs. “Morning, cher.” He pointed with the spatula. “Coffee’s ready. Eggs coming right up.” He reached over and put bread in the toaster, then went back to the eggs.
Charlee poured coffee, then slid into a chair and watched him. His dark hair glistened, still wet from his shower, and he was freshly shaved, already wearing his FWC uniform. She could get used to seeing him in her kitchen every morning. The smile disappeared. No. She couldn’t. Shouldn’t.
They were best friends. Best to leave it at that. Besides, she had a future to figure out.
Once they solved this case and Mama got a little better, Charlee would work up the courage to tell her parents she didn’t want to take over the Outpost. Liz wanted her to move into the spacious apartment above the café and become a full-time baker. Then she could create a life separate from her overprotective family and the river she’d come to hate. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Hunter turned off the burner and slid a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. She pushed her conflicted feelings aside. Now was not the time.
“Eat up, cher. Today will probably be another long day.”
She watched his face as she asked, “Have you heard how Josh is?”
“I spoke to the nurse a little while ago. He’s tired and grouchy, but the scans showed no fractures or any bleeding, so they’ll release him later today.” He smiled. “He’s got a hard head, like someone else I know.”
Charlee smiled back. “No argument there.” She scooped up some eggs. “Thank you for checking. And for breakfast. Again.”
“Eggs and steak are my go-to foods. But after all this is over, I’ll make you my famous jambalaya.” He grinned. “I’m told it’s world-class.”
Charlee’s heart stuttered at his casual comment, and temptation crooked a finger. What if they took it a step further, gave in to the attraction that kept getting stronger? She choked on her eggs and tried to regain her equilibrium. Right now, they both had more important things to think about.
A sudden urge to check on Mama hit her, so she started clearing the table. “Liz needs more cupcakes, so I’ll head over to the folks’ place this morning and have Mama help me bake.” She was also the one person who could help Charlee sort out her jumbled feelings for Hunter.
“I’ve got a briefing with the captain, then I’m going to the Outpost to talk to Travis, so we’ll catch up in a while.” Hunter looked up from his cell phone, met her eyes. “How’s the head?”
Charlee thought a minute. “Everything else is sore this morning, but the head is getting better every day.”
His sexy grin warmed her all the way to her toes. “Good. I’ll drop you off on the way.”
* * *
Charlee found her mother in her usual wicker rocker on the screen porch, gazing out at the water. She smiled her lopsided smile, and Charlee’s heart clenched, as always. “Morning, Mama.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek, then sat in the other rocker. “It’s sure peaceful out here this morning.”
“My Charlotte.” Mama smiled, and Charlee saw the worry in her eyes. “How’s…Josh?”
Charlee smiled and patted her hand, always startled by how thin she’d become, how fragile. “He’s going to be fine. The nurses said he was grouchy and complaining this morning, so that’s a good sign.”
Sudden tears ran down Mama’s cheeks, and Charlee gently brushed them away. “He’s okay, Mama. Truly. They’ll release him later.”
“Could. Have. Died…You. Too.”
Her body might be struggling, but her sharp mind cut right to the heart of things. “God was looking out for all of us. We’re okay. Please don’t worry.”
At this, Alice tried to roll her eyes, and the result surprised a laugh out of Charlee. “Right. Mother’s worry. Check.” They rocked in silence for a few minutes, then she said, “Liz needs more cupcakes, so I figured we’d bake some this morning. That okay with you?”
Alice beamed and gripped the arms of her rocker as if to leap to her feet. Charlee grabbed the wheelchair and helped her into it. Within minutes, they were settled in the kitchen with the oven preheating and Alice bal
ancing a bowl in her lap and mixing batter with her good hand, a smile on her face she never had anywhere but in the kitchen.
Mama looked up, watched Charlee’s face. “How’s…handsome…lieutenant?”
She felt the telltale blush steal over her cheeks. “Handsome.” She paused, and then the words spilled out, as always around Mama. “I like him, a lot, but I’m afraid. Things with Rick were okay for a while, but then everything got all turned around.” She paused. “I didn’t like the way Rick made me feel, like I was stupid and inadequate. Maybe I am. What if I start to feel that way with Hunter?”
Alice thumped the bowl on the table with a clatter that made Charlee jump. She wheeled the chair around and tugged Charlee down until they were face-to-face. She cupped her cheek, eyes fierce, as she forced the words out. “You are not stupid. Smart. Good instincts. Hunter good. Man.” She paused. “Rick weak. Manipulator.” Her mouth worked. “Used you, Charlotte.”
Charlee reared back in surprise. “I never knew you felt that way about him. I thought you liked him.”
“Never asked.”
Chagrined, Charlee smiled. “True, I didn’t, did I?”
Mama smiled. “Stubborn Tanner.” Then she turned her wheelchair and rolled from the kitchen. Charlee followed, surprised when Mama dug around in the magazine basket in the living room and thrust a dog-eared education journal at her. Mom might be retired, but the teacher in her was still going strong. She tapped an article on the cover.
Charlee looked down, then back at Alice. “Gaslighting?”
She nodded. “Rick. Read.”
Before she could ask more, the oven timer dinged, and they went back to the kitchen. By the time Hunter came by to pick her up, they had several dozen cupcakes ready to go. Charlee cupped her mother’s cheeks and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Mama. Thank you for this morning. I needed that time.”
Her mother’s eyes filled, something new since the stroke, since no Tanner had ever been a crier. “Love. You. More.” She pointed to the forgotten journal on the table. “Read.”
Charlee gave her a kiss and scooped the magazine into the old backpack she’d unearthed from the back of her closet after losing hers in the boat explosion. Along with her spare weapon. “I will.”