The Awakening (7 page)

He took a breath and lunged forward, hoping to catch whatever lurked there, but as soon as he moved, whatever it was burst from the brush and ran away from him. Over the top of the pile of brush, he could barely make out a mass of gray hair crashing through the swamp.

By the time he ran around the thick hedge of brush, the creature was long gone, but his tracks remained. A huge foot with four toes. Tanner didn’t even stop to register the implications before he took off following the tracks through the swamp. He moved as fast as possible, but had to slow a bit when the tracks led into an area thick with decaying vines.

The tracks disappeared in the vines and he stopped to listen. He could hear the tide of a bayou nearby and then a giant splash. He took off through the brush in the direction of the splash and slid to a stop at the edge of a ten-foot drop into the bayou. He looked downstream in time to see a hairy head duck underwater.

He ran down the bank as quickly as the thick undergrowth allowed, scanning the bayou for any sight of the creature. The bayou twisted ninety degrees to the right and he pushed around the corner and scanned the water, but nothing was there.

At least three feet of cypress roots made up both sides of the bank. The creature could have climbed up anywhere down the quarter-mile stretch in front of him, or could have grabbed some air and continued swimming with the tide. He’d scan the bank on both sides, but he already knew it was a long shot that he’d find anything.

He didn’t even stop to dwell on the more troubling aspects of the entire situation. There was plenty of time for that later—after he’d had a hot shower and a stiff drink and had figured out what he was going to tell Josie.

Chapter Six

Holt Chamberlain hung up the phone and looked up at his brother Max, who paced in front of his desk.

“Well?” Max asked.

“We got an ID,” Holt said, his surprise apparent in his voice.

“A real one?”

“Yeah, a dead, no-longer-breathing but very real and documented person. At least, documented for the last decade.”

“And you’re sure the tattoo was a match?”

Holt nodded. “I went to the morgue in Baton Rouge to identify it myself.”

Max stopped pacing and slid into a chair in front of the desk. “So?”

“Harrison Belafonte. Forty-two. Owned an insurance company in Baton Rouge where the FBI was about to launch an investigation into the possibility that he was using his agency to launder money. Sound familiar?”

“Like Martin Rommel was doing with the restaurant.”

“Yep, and I don’t think for a moment that it’s a coincidence.”

“Did Belafonte kill himself?”

“According to the coroner, he had enough cocaine in his system to kill an elephant, but he couldn’t say whether the overdose was intentional or accidental.”

Max blew out a breath. “So is it some sort of organized crime that these guys are involved in?”

“It looks that way, but we have to figure out the connection between Rommel and this Belafonte in order to have any idea where to look for live members.”

Holt’s phone rang again and he looked at the display, then frowned. “It’s the Baton Rouge police.”

He answered the phone and listened in silence to what the cop said. When the man was finished, he thanked him and slowly put the phone back in place.

Max leaned forward in his chair. “What is it?”

“We might have our connection. Belafonte was ex-military. I always suspected Rommel was, just by the way he carried himself.”

“I thought Belafonte’s fingerprints had been altered, like Rommel’s.”

“They had, but he had a pin in his leg. They traced the number back to a military hospital in Virginia. Belafonte was Casey Theriot. He was Special Forces and the military has been looking for him the last ten years.”

Max whistled. “You thinking these guys were Special Forces who went rogue?”

“Rogue, mercenaries...doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of things. The outcome is the same.”

“What in the world have we stepped in the middle of?”

Holt frowned. “More importantly—how was our father involved and why was he murdered because of it?”

* * *

T
ANNER SPENT ANOTHER
four frustrating hours trying to track the creature, but didn’t find a trace of him on either side of the bank. It wasn’t really surprising given the thick canopy of dead vines covering the ground, and it was also possible the creature hadn’t come up the bank on that stretch of bayou at all.

Annoyed with the lost opportunity, he made his way back to where the crew was working, to see if Emmett Vernon had ever returned to do his job. The men were still hard at work on the fencing, and he gave Ray a nod as he entered the clearing.

Surprisingly, Vernon sat on a boulder making notes on a pad of paper. Tanner headed over and stood in front of the man, who continued to look down at the paper. Tanner’s shadow fell right across his paper and he hadn’t exactly tried to mask his approach. Vernon knew he was there. He was just choosing to ignore him.

“Emmett Vernon, right?” Tanner asked.

Vernon sighed and looked up at him, clearly disgusted. “Yeah, who’s asking?”

“My name is Tanner LeDoux. Ms. Bettencourt has hired me to figure out who’s vandalizing her property.”

“Good luck with that,” he said and dropped his gaze back to his paper.

“Any reason why I need luck?”

“Chasing legends in this swamp is going to require more than a good pair of boots.”

“I’m a professional tracker.”

Vernon froze and looked back up at him, his expression now wary. “You don’t say.”

“Yep. I grew up in the Mystere Parish swamps, got my degree in forestry and have worked as a game warden since college. I’ve never missed finding my target before, and I’m not about to start.”

Vernon stared at him for a couple of seconds. “And you’re telling me all this why, exactly?”

“Because I want information from you about what you think is going on.”

“I would think it’s obvious. A bunch of superstitious fools had some drinks on the job and imagined things.”

Tanner glanced over at Ray, who was clearly angry at Vernon’s words.

“It wasn’t drunken superstition that tore down the fences,” Tanner said.

“Right smart of you to figure that out. Now, what do you want from me?”

“Your thoughts on who might have enough of a problem to cause trouble.”

“I already gave you my opinion on what happened, but you’ll have to ask Josie who wants to cause her trouble.”

“Josie can hardly have a beer with the locals and get them to talk, and being a stranger, neither can I.”

Vernon scowled. “You want me to set up my friends and neighbors to pump them about something they ain’t got nothing to do with? I don’t think so.”

“How do you know they’re not involved?”

“Look. I don’t know what Josie told you, but if someone’s got a problem with her, I’d try looking into the people she met after she left Miel. She didn’t come back here with her tail between her legs for no reason. You ask me, she’s running from something. Maybe you should ask her if it came looking for her.”

A flash of anger passed over Tanner at the way Vernon spoke about Josie. “That’s a hard line to take about your employer, isn’t it? Haven’t you worked for the family for years?”

“I worked for her father, not Josie.”

“Well, it appears to me that Josie is the one signing your paychecks now. I’ll expect you to show her a little more respect in the future.”

The crew had already slowed, but when Tanner delivered that statement, all work ceased completely. A red flush crept up Vernon’s neck and across his face. He stood, his face inches from Tanner, glaring at him.

“I expect you to do the job you were hired to do,” Vernon said, “and not worry about how I do mine.” He shot an angry look at the crew, then stomped off into the swamp toward the house.

Tanner watched his retreating back and contemplated going after him for a couple of seconds. Finally, he decided it wasn’t worth it, but he knew Josie would likely be hurt and offended at the way the foreman had spoken about her.

He looked over at the crew, and all the men except Ray looked down at the ground. Ray looked as if he wanted to say something but only waved at the crew to get back to work. Tanner sighed and started toward the trail that led back to the house. He’d gotten about twenty yards down it when he heard someone behind him. He turned around and saw Ray hurrying up the trail.

“Mr. LeDoux,” Ray said. “I shouldn’t be speaking to you about this, as Vernon is my boss, but I agree that what he said about Ms. Bettencourt is disrespectful. Disrespecting ladies don’t sit right with me.”

Tanner nodded. “I’m guessing being accused of being drunk on the job doesn’t sit well with you, either. It wouldn’t me.”

“No, sir, it doesn’t, so I’m going to say something I wouldn’t otherwise. I don’t trust the man.”

Tanner stared, a bit surprised at the man’s directness. “Any particular reason why?”

“He disappears most of the day. I know he’s supposed to be helping with the work. I’ve heard Ms. Bettencourt say as much, but he’s never here more than a couple of minutes before he disappears into the swamp.”

“Any idea what he does out there?”

“No, but I’ve never see him with fish or game, so I can only assume he’s up to no good. Ain’t no man needs to walk around in the swamp all day to clear his mind.”

“That’s true.”

“I followed him a bit one day, but I think he heard me.” Ray gave Tanner a sheepish look. “He lost me in the undergrowth.”

“We all lose the trail sometimes.”

“Yessir, but I don’t very often. Vernon’s good...real good. I’m just letting you know, in case you had in mind to see what he’s up to.”

“I appreciate it. Hey, what time did he come back to the work site today?”

“About two hours ago.”

“And he didn’t say anything about where he’d been or what he was doing?”

“Nope.” Ray frowned. “It was kinda strange, though. He was soaking wet. Like he’d been swimming or something. He’s stayed at the site longer today than he has since I started, but he still didn’t lift a finger to help. He only sat there scribbling on that paper of his.”

“I appreciate you telling me all this.”

“I don’t like to talk about another man’s business,” Ray said, “but I don’t think Vernon is doing right by Ms. Bettencourt. She’s worried about everything opening on time, and Vernon shouldn’t be adding to that worry.”

“You’re right. It’s his job to eliminate some of that worry. If you hear or observe anything else that looks off, please let me know.”

“I will. Are you staying at the main house?”

“Until I find the vandal, yes.”

“That’s good. I don’t think Ms. Bettencourt should be there alone. I have to tell you that if this job was for anyone but Ms. Bettencourt, I would have quit already. I got a bad feeling about all of this.” He gave Tanner a nod and headed back down the path to the work site.

Tanner watched as he walked away. He had a bad feeling, as well.

* * *

T
HE VANDAL WATCHED
the tracker and the crew leader from behind a cypress tree. Only pieces of the conversation carried to the cypress tree, but it was easy to fill in the gaps. They were both worried about the bitch. The simpering, whining, spoiled bitch. The crew leader was of no concern. The man didn’t have the nerve or the skill to follow someone with considerable skill through the swamp, but the tracker was worrisome.

On the plus side, the crew men were nervous and superstitious. The easiest way to shut down all this nonsense was to scare them off the job. Strong, available men weren’t exactly plentiful, and even fewer wanted to work in the swamp when they could get higher-paying work in the midst of the sights and thrills of New Orleans.

Tonight, the vandal would strike again.

Chapter Seven

Josie had showered and changed and was standing in front of the refrigerator when Tanner walked in the back door. The sun was already setting, casting a dim glow over the back lawn. She felt her lower back loosen as she saw him walk inside and realized how tense she’d been, wondering what he’d found, if anything.

“I was just trying to decide on supper,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in stock, but I could fry some bacon and eggs if you’re interested.”

Tanner pulled off his gloves and set them on the counter. He looked as if he was thinking hard on something, and she was dying to know what it was.

“Actually,” he said, “I wondered if you’d be interested in having dinner in town, and maybe a beer?”

A twinge of excitement passed over her, and she chided herself. The seriousness of his expression let her know the invitation was not personal, which was the last thing she needed at the moment, anyway.

“This invitation sounds like it comes with an agenda,” she said.

“I’m afraid so. I want to get out into town. Watch the locals and see if I can stir up some talk.”

“And get the word spread around that I have a tracker living on the property.”

He nodded. “It will either shut him down or cause him to escalate. When people rush, they tend to make mistakes, so if he escalates, I’m depending on him getting sloppy enough for me to catch him.”

“So I guess that means you didn’t find anything today?”

He frowned and Josie got the immediate impression she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

“I had a talk with Emmett Vernon,” he said and told her the details of the conversation.

A flush ran up her face and she clenched her hands. The nerve of the man who’d made a good living off her family, talking about her that way.

“I don’t know what Emmett is trying to imply, but I promise you, there are no skeletons that followed me back to Miel. Those people only care about the fashion world, and tucked away in the swamp, I am hardly a threat to models vying for the same gig.”

“I didn’t figure, but I wanted you to be aware of what he’s saying. Your crew leader was a bit upset about it, too.”

“Ray is a good man. I’m sorry he’s in the middle of all this drama. He has a nice family to support and just wants to do his job.”