Waters Run Deep

by Liz Talley

  Nate approached his sister and gave her a brief hug. She could see that the woman’s smile was tremulous and her hands shook. Della wore her long dark hair in a low ponytail, silver hoops flashed in her ears. The sleeveless dress she wore, showing off elegant, tanned arms, was the exact color of the lavender still blooming along the walk. The three turned and moved toward the porch and Picou.

  The Dufrene matriarch stood still as the crane Annie had once imagined her to be, watching, waiting with amazement on her face. Her lips tilted at the corners and pride shone in her eyes. Annie recalled the same look in her own mother’s eyes. Maternal bliss.

  Della climbed the steps, ahead of the two men. She saw Annie and gave her a small smile. “Hi, Annie. Nice to see you again.”

  Annie nodded. Her voice seemed stuck. Spencer grabbed her leg, uncharacteristically shy. Della looked down at him. “You, too, Mr. Spencer.”

  Then Della’s gaze slid to her mother’s.

  Annie watched as Picou swallowed hard and tried to smile, failing. The older woman nervously licked her lips.

  Della glanced back at the man who’d come with her and he gave her an encouraging nod.

  She walked to her mother. “Hi, I’m—”

  “You’re beautiful,” Picou said, tears choking her voice. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to quiet the suppressed emotion. She shook her head, swallowing convulsively, trying to hold herself together, but not quite achieving.

  Della stood, unblinking, unsure. She extended her hand. “This is, well, it’s—”

  Picou nodded, but didn’t speak. She reached out and took her daughter’s hand. The older woman looked beyond words.

  “I look like you,” Della said. Tears sat like dew on her thick lashes.

  Picou nodded. “You do.”

  Finally she dropped Della’s hand and lifted both hands to her daughter’s face, framing it, smiling, not caring tears streaked down her face. “You always did get brown as a berry in summertime.”

  Della smiled and covered her mother’s hands with her own. For a moment, the two women, so similar in stature, stood savoring the sacred moment of being together once again. Annie felt tears on her cheeks. She didn’t even realize they’d spilled past her lashes.

  No one else moved. They all were too entranced by the display in front of them.

  Picou nodded at her daughter, dropping her hands. “This will not be easy for you, but you must know this is the happiest day of my life. I always professed it to be the day I gave birth to each of my children, but to lose one and then miraculously get her back is the most overwhelming, pure emotion I’ve ever experienced. You have come back to me, and I am satisfied with that for now.”

  Della pressed her lips together before swallowing. “I can’t promise anything. It’s like everything I am has changed and I’m on a Tilt-A-Whirl. Inside I feel out of control, like I can’t stop things. Yet, I was the one who bought the ticket. I started all this.”

  “And thank goodness you did,” Nate said.

  “Is there a Tilt-A-Whirl at the festibal?” Spencer asked. “Wanna ride it with me, Annie?”

  Della laughed and the tenseness, the sacredness of the moment was broken.

  “Can we go? Please, Annie,” Spencer asked again, letting go of her leg and looking up at her.

  She grabbed his hand and opened the screen door again. “Come with me and stop the pestering.”

  Nate had looked good wearing worn blue jeans and a light blue polo shirt that made his skin look vibrant. He’d not shaved, instead leaving a scruffy sexy beard that reminded Annie of lazy mornings in bed, wrapped naked in sheets, languidly stretching—

  She cut off her thoughts. Nate Dufrene might look good enough to gobble up, but he was also an arrogant, controlling man who could sidetrack her too easily. She needed to remember it was business between them. Well, not even that anymore.

  She entered the house, shutting the door on the Dufrenes and their guests, ignoring Spencer’s pleas as she dragged him to the kitchen. Maybe she could plug him up with food. Or SpongeBob on the little TV in the kitchen Lucille used to watch soap operas.

  She sat him at the table and pressed the on button, finding the channel that played the show. Spencer stared in rapt attention, his festibal-going temporarily on the back burner.

  Annie grabbed a honey bun from the snack basket and sat it in front of him. So much for being a good nanny. She went to the sink, grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Her throat hurt from the unshed tears as much as her mind throbbed with tangled images of Nate, Spencer, Jane and failure.

  She’d tried to repair the damage done by Nate’s presumptuousness. She’d called Ace, who didn’t seem to think it a big deal the detective had contacted him with the break in the case. He also didn’t sound impressed by Annie’s effort, only relieved she’d managed to get the gun back. He’d run info on Shaffer but had come up empty-handed. The only info he’d obtained was Shaffer’s rap sheet, which, though extensive, showed no leaning toward violence.

  So what was the connection? Again, a fleeting thought nudged her brain, but she couldn’t grab hold of the wisp that curled around her mind before evaporating like smoke.

  “Annie?” Nate stood in the kitchen doorway.

  She turned from the sink.

  “They just picked Shaffer up in Little Rock.”

  She pressed a hand against her chest. “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head. “They found him passed out in some dive on the outskirts of the city. A Harley registered to Sean Shaffer was in the lot. He must have dumped whatever car we saw him in. Wynn’s going up to talk to him. We’ll charge him on assault and theft. Then we’ll explore the threats. Maybe he’ll get smart and confess.”

  “Did he say why he was doing this? Beyond money, of course. About why he—” she lowered her voice “—targeted Tawny and Spencer?”

  “He was tanked and is sleeping it off. Wynn just left, so maybe we’ll know more by this afternoon.”

  Annie felt a burn in her gut. Something didn’t feel right, but there was little doubt Shaffer’s prints were on her gun. They’d gotten the guy, so why did she feel as though they’d missed something. She nodded. “Thanks for sharing the info.”

  He nodded, but his eyes looked sad. “No problem.”

  For a moment, they stood silent, so much unsaid between them. So much that would remain so.

  “So,” she said, “I guess I’ll see you around. Maybe this afternoon. Since they picked up Shaffer, I can probably take Spencer to the festival.”

  He nodded. “But until we talk to this guy and get the story, let’s keep a close watch on him. See if Brick can accompany you.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job,” she said, bristling despite the sense in his words. “I wouldn’t go without being careful. But I would appreciate your sharing what you find out about Shaffer. If you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind?” he said, pushing through the kitchen door without even saying goodbye.

  Annie felt her heart break. This was what she wanted. Distance between her and Nate. Yet, it felt so wrong. They’d been good together as partners. She’d sensed how well they balanced. In another time, another place they could have been really good together.

  But it wasn’t another time or another place. Reality always won over dreams. Her life was in California, hopefully still employed by Ace, working, building value, finding a small comfortable life for herself. She could live that way. Would have to live that way, remembering she wasn’t a woman with girlish dreams of the perfect man who’d give her a perfect life. Anna Mendes was a realist.

  “Okay, Spencer. Let’s go to the festival.”

  The boy didn’t answer because a squirrel with a glass bowl on her head was dancing the hula.

  Yeah, reality trumped.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE FESTIVAL WAS CROWDED, not totally unexpected, but still presenting certain problems. Like the trash cans. They didn’t have e
nough.

  Nate lifted the clear plastic bag and took it to the Dumpster he’d had the foresight to rent. Too bad he’d miscalculated the trash-can situation.

  All around him people laughed, yelled, and one particular toddler screamed. Apparently for cotton candy, if Nate’s bleeding ears could be trusted.

  He chanced a glance at his mother, where she sat beneath the canopy of a tree with Della and her boyfriend, Jason. She titled her head and listened as his sister talked. He’d never seen his mother at such peace, not even after the tranquility retreat she’d spent with an order of monks outside of Ponchatoula. Oddly enough, people steered clear of his mother, no one interrupting or barging in. He wondered how many people suspected the young woman with his mother was her long-lost daughter.

  A glance around the festival site told him not many. Everyone seemed intent on having a good time with their own families, just as intended.

  “Everything’s going well,” Father Benoit said, appearing at his elbow. Nate glanced at his friend. The priest wore shorts and a T-shirt reading Does This Shirt Make Me Look Too Catholic? on it. His running shoes were bright orange-and-green. He didn’t look like a priest.

  “Except we needed more trash cans and they ran out of bubbles in the tiny-tots’ tent.”

  “But still, everyone looks happy, especially your mother. Who’s the girl with her? Wynn said a cousin?”

  “Something like that,” Nate said, grabbing another bag from the box at the first aid and information table. He caught Annie and Spencer out of the corner of his eye. They were shooting water guns in a race to fill up a paper cup. Brick hovered nearby looking like a large dump truck. Spencer bit his lip concentrating on the task, while Annie encouraged him.

  Regret pinged inside him, along with many other emotions. Everything pointed toward Annie being the woman made for him, but her stubbornness drove him nuts.

  Still, he wanted her, with a longing he didn’t understand.

  “Excuse me, Father,” he said, shaking out the plastic bag and heading toward the nearest can, which happened to be very near Annie and Spencer. He quickly relined the can, but before he could move over to his target, someone tapped him on the arm.

  “Hey, there Lieutenant Dufrene,” Jane drawled, batting her eyelashes. Tawny stood next to her, looking like an ad for a down-home fashion doll. She had high heels, cutoff jean shorts, a tight tank top and a cowboy hat perched on her blond locks. Jane was dressed in a similar fashion.

  The parishioners and visitors all stared at the two actresses and he could hear the whispers.

  “Carter told me they got the guy,” Tawny said, with a genuine smile. “You don’t know how much I appreciate all your hard work. It’s like clouds have parted and let the sunshine back in my life.”

  He nodded, wishing Jane would take the hand she’d curled in the crook of his elbow away. Jane didn’t budge. Instead she tugged him. “Come sit with me and Tawny. Have you eaten yet? We just bought a boatload of tickets for Spencer and have enough to spring for a beer.”

  “Yeah,” Tawny chimed in, waving to Spencer, who ran over, squealing about winning a piece of bubble gum. He wrapped his arms about his mother’s nicely-toned thighs and beamed. “I owe you, after all. You’ve kept my birdie safe.”

  She stroked Spencer’s head. Annie stood several feet away frowning at them. Something satisfying ignited inside him when he noted it was mostly Jane she frowned at.

  “It wasn’t just me. A lot of people helped in this investigation.” He looked purposefully at Annie.

  “But I’ve been telling Tawny there was something masterful in you. I knew you would find the guy,” Jane said, stroking his arm. He felt more than uncomfortable, but liked the side effect of Jane blatantly coming on to him. Jealousy was written all over Annie’s face. He arched an eyebrow at her, and her expression shuttered. She walked their way, chin high, shoulders straight. Defensive.

  “I didn’t know you were coming to the festival, Tawny.”

  Tawny glanced at Annie. “I hadn’t planned on it, but Carter finished shooting ahead of schedule and wanted to do some retakes of shots we weren’t in, so what’s a girl to do with an afternoon off when there’s a festival in town?”

  Jane tittered. “Come to where we can find a drink and a good-looking man. Say, who’s that guy over there in the orange running shoes? Is he single, by chance?”

  Nate smiled. “Yeah, he’s single.”

  Annie’s lips twitched but the smile didn’t make it to her eyes.

  “I wanna stay with Mommy,” Spencer said, trying to blow a bubble with the huge gum ball he’d crammed in his mouth.

  Annie looked at Tawny. The blonde shrugged. “Sure. I’ll take you to get your face painted. Would that be fun?”

  Spencer nodded his body.

  Annie looked over her shoulder at Brick with a nod. “That’s fine. I promised Picou I’d try some of the gumbo her friend made. I’ll be with her if you need me. Have fun with your mom, Spencer.”

  She left without even bothering to say hello to him or Jane. Guess that was their punishment. And although he knew it wasn’t funny, he smiled. Because whether Annie knew it or not, she’d told him exactly what he needed to know. She was jealous. She was still into him. And that renewed hope in him.

  “Well, I’ve got more trash cans to empty. You girls have fun,” he said, pulling away from Jane and heading for the overflowing trash can next to the beer stand. He noted Jane heading toward Father Benoit as Tawny took her son’s hand and crossed over to the face painters.

  He glanced back at Annie, who’d sat down at a table with Picou, Della and Jason.

  Maybe he should try the gumbo, too. After he emptied the trash can, of course.

  * * *

  ANNIE WATCHED NATE. She didn’t want to. Her eyes kept going his way of their own accord. It was as if she had no power over her body. She wanted his scent. His touch. And, oh, yes, his taste.

  “Hungry?” Picou asked, shoving a bowl of steaming seafood gumbo in front of her. “Try this. My friend Gracie made it, using fresh oysters her son sent up.”

  Della nodded. “I’ve had good gumbo, but that’s a great gumbo.”

  Annie obligingly slurped up a spoonful. Tasted like ashes, but she nodded. “Very good.”

  She watched as Nate passed a family, stopping to shake hands. Nate belonged in this happy town. He may have given up a career in a large hospital or morgue for running his family interests and chasing speeders, but he’d gained so much more. She could feel the goodwill of the community, and it made her sad. Sad for herself. That she could never have this. That connection to friends and—she glanced at Picou who smiled radiantly at her newfound daughter—family.

  She shoveled down the gumbo and drank half of a lukewarm Abita beer, watching the families around her while around her flowed talk of teaching—tales of playground disasters and classroom successes. She felt so alone.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  Picou pointed toward the orange portable bathroom sitting near the woods Annie had chased Shaffer through. “You’ll have to use that one. They should be clean, though.”

  Annie tossed her bowl into the almost-overflowing can. Obviously, Nate had wanted to stay well away from her. She hadn’t seen him in a while…and she hadn’t seen Jane.

  She tamped down on the jealousy and crossed to the temporary bathroom facilities. No one waited in line. Perhaps they, too, found it repulsive to potty in a plastic box. As she approached the area, she heard a muffled noise. Then she saw one of the port-o-lets shaking as if someone were kicking from inside. The sign on the outside read Occupied. Perhaps a child had locked himself inside and couldn’t figure out how to unlatch the door?

  She knocked. “Hello?”

  The kicking became more furious, shaking the entire plastic frame. She heard furious, garbled screeching.

  What in the hell?

  Using her palm, she pushed the round spinner that locked the door from inside. She felt the
plastic mechanism move and heard the plastic wedge pop. The door flew open.

  Annie stepped back to keep from getting hit and then saw a very enraged Jane sitting on the commode, gagged and bound. Annie reacted, leaping inside and ripping the duct tape from Jane’s mouth.

  “Ow!” Jane yelled, standing up, nose to nose with Annie.

  “Jane, what—”

  “She took Spencer!”

  “What?” Annie stepped out of the port-o-let pulling Jane with her. Jane stumbled, but maintained her balance. Annie saw a plastic restraint cinched around Jane’s wrists. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “A woman took Spencer. He had go to the bathroom. Tawny went to meet Carter so I took him—”

  “Where’s Brick?”

  “Spencer pitched a fit for cotton candy. He went to get it. Here he comes now.”

  Brick moved incredibly fast for a big man. And he carried a bag of cotton candy in one hand.

  “Who took him, Jane?” Annie shook her arm, bringing her back to the immediacy of the situation.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t see. She shoved me in and held a knife to my throat. She said she’d cut my face, so I let her bind me. My face is my livelihood and—”

  “Get Tawny and Carter,” Annie interrupted, turning to Brick. “I’ll call Nate.”

  Annie slid the phone from her pocket and dialed Nate’s cell. When he picked up, she said, “Come to the port-o-lets. Someone took Spencer.”

  Then she hung up and tried to cut the plastic strap off Jane’s wrists with her keys. She also tried asking her about the woman who taken Spencer, but Jane wouldn’t stop cursing about being humiliated, locked in with “all that piss.” Annie had been around Air Force guys and spent years in law enforcement and she’d never heard such an inventive and crude lambasting as she had from the actress with the “trusting, wholesome” face.

  “Jane?” Annie said.

  “Huh?”

  “Shut the hell up.”

  * * *

  NATE HAD BEEN PICKING UP overflowing garbage in the front of the church when he got the call from Annie. A dog or two had already snuffled through the paper plates and bowls, scattering them all over the front lawn.