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 straightened up. “Did you take a sample?”
She nodded. “I sent it to the Fish and Wildlife Laboratory in New Orleans for testing, but they said it could take weeks with their backlog.”
“I’ll make some phone calls and see if they can speed things up.”
“Thank you,” she said, her relief apparent.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes.” She looked down, averting her eyes from his.
“Are you sure?”
She raised her eyes back to his. “It’s everything that you need to deal with. The rest is my problem.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
She sighed. “A couple of men on the crew left the job this morning. They’re spooked, and I probably won’t be able to replace them. Word is out and there are only so many qualified workers around these parts. Most are working reconstruction in New Orleans.”
“So you’re delayed a bit, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“If the delays continue, I can’t open the bed-and-breakfast on time. I have people booked for New Year’s Eve.”
“Why would swamp fencing hold up the opening?”
“Apparently, the insurance company considers it a liability if I don’t have the fencing and won’t write the policy I need to open.”
Okay, it was unfortunate, but not a crisis. “You can probably get some workers to come over from New Orleans if you pay a bonus. Worst case, you’ve have to refund deposits for the bookings and reschedule them if you think the property’s not inhabitable by then.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
He studied her face, the way her hands shook as she poured the rest of her coffee into the sink. Why all the concern about not opening on time, but the lack of interest in paying a bonus to acquire enough workers to get things finished on time? Surely, not every contractor in Louisiana would be afraid to work in the Honey Island Swamp, especially if the price was right.
She was hiding something, but what? Holt had warned him that the hardest part of the job was figuring out if the things people were hiding were relevant to the case. He hadn’t been on the job five minutes and could already see that clear as day. He took a sip of his coffee to avoid sighing. This sort of issue was exactly why he’d chosen a career path in the swamp among the creatures. They didn’t present complicated problems like humans.
“Well, if that’s all,” he said, “I’d like to start by taking a look at the place you saw the creature.”
She hesitated for just a moment, and he thought she was going to let out some of what was really bothering her, but finally, she nodded. “Let me grab a long-sleeved shirt and put on my boots. Then I’ll take you there myself.”
She left the room without as much as a backward glance. He downed the rest of his coffee and stared across the acreage to the tree line where the swamp began. Something was moving below the surface. He could feel it.
The question was, how much did Josie know and how involved in it was she?
JOSIE PULLED ON HER GLOVES as they entered the trail in the swamp. Southern Louisiana rarely got cold enough for the gloves to be a necessity, but the bare branches and dying foliage were sharp and scratched the skin with direct contact. She noticed Tanner had pulled leather gloves from his jeans pocket as soon as they’d neared the tree line. He wore hiking boots and a long-sleeve shirt, which made sense as Alex had told her he was an expert tracker. Even the pistol shoved casually in his waistband only comforted her that she’d made the right decision.
But the rest of the picture was the absolute last thing she’d been expecting when he’d introduced himself as the detective she’d hired. She’d expected someone older, rougher, maybe someone who’d lived in the swamp for a while. Someone with graying hair, scars and maybe even a limp. Or maybe she’d seen too much late-night television.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Tanner’s looks should be the least of her worries. She had the bank pushing her every day for payment, and hiring a detective was the last chance she had to save her family’s plantation from foreclosure. It felt like a long shot, but if it worked, the money would be well spent, even if she had to suffer the discomfort of explaining her precarious financial position. She’d avoided the subject in the kitchen when he’d suggested paying higher wages for workers, but she wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.
She was a bit surprised that Tanner hadn’t asked about the creature she saw, but maybe he thought she’d been mistaken. It rankled her that
