Liz Talley - Waters Run Deep

“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘maybe’?” Nate asked, swinging into the gravel parking area out front. “Because I’ll be around. I think keeping an eye on the Keene family might be something our department needs to consider in light of the threats they’ve received.”

“Really? Figured we left danger back in L.A., so I doubt it’s something the local authorities need to worry about. I’m sure you have much more exciting things to pursue.” She reached for the door handle, but his big hand on her arm stopped her. His touch was warm, even on her heated flesh.

“Just a second,” he said.

She glanced at him, not able to read his expression or his eyes. “Yeah?”

“What did you say you did before becoming a nanny?”

Alarm uncurled in her belly, choking out the weird sexual energy that had been humming for the past few minutes. “A real-estate agent.”

“With what company?”

“Why? You looking for a house in the Valley?” she asked, jerking her arm away. “I worked as a real-estate agent for several years in Nevada. What’s it to you?”

“You lived in Nevada?”

No. “Yeah. Are you checking up on me or something?”

“Why so touchy?”

She gave him a dead stare. “I don’t like people implying I’m a liar.” Even if she was one. This undercover gig was hard to keep up around a guy like Nate. He seemed to smell bullshit from a mile away. She’d have to be extra careful to not let her guard down around him. Or anything else.

“I didn’t imply you were a liar.”

She arched an eyebrow and climbed from the car. “I’m not an idiot. You implied all over the place.”

She didn’t wait for him to say anything more. She needed to get away from him. Get a shower before she had to pour Spencer’s cereal and play happy nanny for the day. Hopefully, Ace or his best hound, Jimmy, would break the case by finding the weirdo who threatened five-year-olds back in California so she could go home and pick up another assignment, preferably something that didn’t involve watching SpongeBob twelve times a day. But until then, she’d do what needed to be done, even if it meant lying her ass off.

Nate stared at her as she gave herself a mental pep talk. He didn’t turn off the engine and he didn’t follow her, which was probably a good thing. She felt way too vulnerable around that man. What was he doing here anyway? Didn’t he have a job to do? Something more important than skulking around Beau Soleil implying she was something other than she was?

Her thoughts tripped over each other as she walked around the flowered path toward the kitchen door. She’d grab a yogurt smoothie before she went up to her bedroom.

Nate’s mother met her on the path.

“Did I see Nate pull up?” The woman looked worried.

“Yeah, he actually gave me a ride.”

“Good. He needs to see this.”

For the third time that morning, apprehension flooded her. “What?”

“Someone left a present on the back doormat.”

CHAPTER FIVE

NATE STARED AT THE dead bird lying on the sisal mat. A folded piece of paper lay beneath the fanned wings framing the missive with grotesque flourish.

“Who would do such a thing?” Picou asked, staring down at the poor creature. The mockingbird’s soft gray head was flung back with beak open, giving a tragic appearance.

“Did you touch it?” Nate asked his mother, glancing to where she stood with lips pressed together, arms crossed as if warding off a chill, which was ironic since the day felt smothering already.

“Of course not.” Picou sniffed. “I watch Law and Order.”

He nearly smiled. “Good, Mom, good. I’m going to go back to the car to grab my kit and call this in. Stay here and don’t touch anything. Where did the nanny go?”

Picou shrugged. “Inside? Maybe to check on the boy?”

Made sense. Yesterday had proven the boy’s mother wasn’t exactly the most responsible person on the face of the earth, so Annie’s instinct to find and secure the child was good.

His mother looked a little spooked, but that was to be expected. Dead birds and presumably threatening notes brought back bad memories—memories that were about to be waded through regardless of the movie people and their harassment problem. He’d read the file on Sally Cheramie early that morning when sleep escaped him—the results had left a wake of acid churning in his stomach. Part of him wanted to toss the file aside, smother the query into his sister’s disappearance, but facts didn’t lie. The woman might be more than a desperate charlatan looking to get rich quick. This inquiry might bite.

He went around to his car, grabbed a kit from the trunk and pulled out his phone to call in the threat. This time it would be official.

He hung up with dispatch and shifted his mind back to the task at hand just as Annie appeared at his elbow. He stopped. “Spencer?”

“Safe with his mother. Both are unaware anything is amiss. In fact, Spencer is modeling his mother’s shoe collection while she’s getting a facial. The makeup artist arrived twenty minutes ago. Might want to question her and see if she saw anything.”

He looked at her. “Oh, so you watch Law and Order, too?”

“You don’t have to watch police shows on TV to use common sense. If someone put the bird on the mat, then Linda, or whatever her name is, might have seen him.”

“Or her.”

Annie glanced sharply at him. “Or her. That reminds me. I did see someone on the highway—Jane McEvoy.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“She’s Tawny’s former roommate and BFF. She might not be involved in this threat thing, but you never know. Could be anyone with a grudge. Or a loose screw.”

He didn’t comment. She was right. If the threats were connected, it could be anyone who’d made the trek from California. He’d start with the production crew and work his way to those closest to the boy, including Annie.

He started walking again, noticing Annie’s steps matched his stride for stride as they approached his mother, who wore a bright caftan along with flip-flops with sparkly doodads on them. She looked a little like a circus fortune-teller, but her purple-blue eyes were grave.

“You can go inside now, Mom. Just use the side or front door so we don’t contaminate evidence out here.” Nate studied the “crime” scene before placing his case on an out-of-the-way table. He opened the kit, aware he carried more than the average detective. His time in med school studying pathology had taught him some tricks that gave him an edge. Or at least he thought they did. He knew his success rate came from good old-fashioned research with a side helping of gut instinct.

“That’s a lot of stuff in there. Do all detectives carry—” she picked up a spray bottle of luminal “—stuff like this?”

He took the luminal out of her hand and placed it back in the kit. “I was an Eagle Scout. I’m always prepared.”

“What’s this for?” she asked, picking up a vial containing fingerprinting powder and holding it up to the sunlight streaking through the overhanging trees.

“Something I may need. Put it back, please.” He pulled out the high-resolution camera and caught a gleam in her eyes. He couldn’t get a handle on this woman at all. She didn’t look disturbed by the dead bird like most women would. He turned and caught his mother crouching beside the note and bird. “Don’t touch.”

“I’m not. Just making sure it’s dead.”

Annie walked over. “Oh, it’s dead, Mrs. Dufrene. Birds don’t lie that still if they’re living.”

Picou rose and took a step back toward Annie as Nate snapped photographs of the bird at several angles. After photographing the entire patio, he pulled on gloves and placed the dead bird in an evidence bag.