she wouldn’t tell you. It’s clear from what you’ve told me that she respects you, and I got the impression that with Anna, respect doesn’t come lightly. If she thought telling you would damage that, she may choose to handle it alone.”
Colette slumped back in her chair. Everything Alex said made so much sense. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not in trouble, whether or not she chose to walk into it.”
“That’s true.”
“So will you take the case? I have the money, and Anna’s become … well, like a little sister to me. I have to do something.”
“Of course you do,” Alex said, and Colette could tell by her expression that Alex truly did understand.
Alex was the only person at New Orleans General whom Colette had ever confided in about the boating accident that killed her parents when she was young and being raised by her only living relative, a spinster aunt who never wanted children and who’d died years ago. More than anyone else, Alex knew the loss she felt at having no family and would understand why Anna had become so important to her.
“I have no problem with our taking the case,” Alex said.
Relief swept over Colette like a wave. “Thank you. I can’t even tell you how much this means that someone is actually listening.”
Alex leaned forward in her chair and looked directly at Colette. “But you have to be prepared for whatever we find—even if it’s not the answer you wanted.”
Colette nodded. “I can handle that. I just can’t handle doing nothing.”
“Good. As it happens, Holt’s half brother Max is starting at the agency this week. I’ll get all the information from you and bring him up to speed at dinner tonight.”
“Holt’s half brother?” Colette struggled to control her disappointment. “I was hoping you and Holt would do the investigation.”
“We’re busy on two other cases as the moment, but I promise you Max is an expert. He’s got ten years with the Baton Rouge Police Department and was the youngest detective in the department’s history. If anyone can find out what happened to Anna, Max can.”
“Okay. If you have that much confidence in him, then he must be worthy of it.”
Alex smiled. “He’ll probably want to talk to you tomorrow. Since you knew Anna better than anyone else, you’ll be a big help.”
“Anything I can do,” Colette said, hoping between now and tomorrow she could think of something—anything—that would help find Anna. If Alex’s assessment was correct and Anna was in some sort of trouble, then she needed Colette’s help now more than ever before.
MAX DUHON HANDED A BOARD to his brother Holt, who was up on a ladder replacing a rotted section of roof trim on his little cabin on the bayou. “It doesn’t sound like much of a case,” Max said.
Holt held the board in place with one hand and secured it with his nail gun with the other. “It’s not sensational or meaty, no, but Alex agreed to take the case, and you’re the only one available at the moment to handle it. She’ll bring you a folder tonight, but what I told you is the gist of it.”
“But the entire case is based on Alex’s opinion of someone else’s opinion. That’s hearsay in court. Why in the world is it good enough for you to launch an investigation?”
“The client meets our criteria. She suspects something has happened, and the police won’t open an investigation. The client is credible, even if the missing person is questionable.”
“And if it turns out to be nothing but a loose woman taking an unscheduled weekend with her latest passing fancy?”
Holt climbed down the ladder and placed his nail gun in its case. “Then we’ve still solved the case and earned our fee. We find answers here, Max, and the answers don’t always have to be criminal in nature. Turning her away would be going against the very reason we opened the agency in the first place.”
Max sighed. “I get it. I just don’t know how much more I can do than what the police have already done.”
“Talk to the client and try to find a new line of investigation. Poke around into things the police wouldn’t have bothered with—question classmates, see if she had a favorite hangout.” Holt clapped him on the shoulder. “Do what you do best. If anyone can ferret out an answer on this, it’s you.”
Max picked up the ladder and followed Holt to the storage shed. He wished he had as much confidence in his abilities as his brother did. Maybe that was why Alex had assigned him a relatively straightforward, boring and safe case. Maybe they didn’t really believe he could handle the work, either. Not now.
The old Max was invincible … indestructible. At least that’s what he’d thought.
The bullet wound ached in his shoulder as he lifted the ladder onto the rack in the back of the shed—a constant reminder of what had happened.
Of his failure.
Chapter Two
The knock on Colette’s apartment door sent her into a nervous flurry. Holt’s brother was right on time, but despite a sleepless night, she still didn’t have a single thing to add to the information she’d already given Alex. She smoothed the wrinkles out of the bottom of her T-shirt and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, before opening the door.
Then sucked it back in when she saw Max.
She shouldn’t have been surprised by the prime male specimen in front of her. After all, Holt was an attractive man, but his brother was a work of art. The dark hair, finely toned body and beautifully tanned skin were an equal match for Holt, but the chiseled facial features and turquoise eyes belied a Nordic mother. It was a masterful combination of DNA.
“Colette Guidry?” he asked, his voice as smooth and sexy as his appearance.
“Yes.”
He stared at her for a couple of seconds. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Colette opened the door and allowed him to pass, flustered that she’d completely lost her sense and her manners. “I’m sorry. I just feel so scattered.”
He stepped inside her apartment and glanced around the open living room, kitchen and dining area. Colette got the impression that he was sizing her up, both by her own appearance and by that of her home. For a moment, she bristled, but then remembered he was a career cop. His mind probably automatically shifted to such things if he was working, and she could hardly fault him for assessing her when she was paying for his natural ability to do just that in the first place.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“That would be great.”
“Have a seat,” she said and waved a hand at the kitchen table. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
He slid into a chair at the table, and she poured two black coffees and
