Waters Run Deep. Liz Talley

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      The cell phone sitting in the cup holder chirped. She looked down. Tawny again. The woman was a high-maintenance nightmare, but she worshipped her Spencer. Annie ignored the jittering phone since they would be there in ten minutes and she didn’t want to pull over and waste time.

      “Is that my mom?” Spencer asked.

      “Um—” She didn’t want to lie. The books had said be truthful with children. “Hey, we’re almost there. Then we can see about getting some of those crawfish for dinner, huh?”

      “Really? Cool.”

      Mission accomplished.

      She exited the interstate and drove through the charming Bayou Bridge before taking the turn on the highway that hugged the Bayou Tete. Annie wanted to stop the car and indulge in the sight of colossal live oaks fanning their branches over the snaking river, but didn’t. Beau Soleil sat on the bank of the bayou so there would be plenty of time to contemplate the land of Evangeline later. She could only imagine the breathtaking sunsets and her footfalls on the hidden paths beside the water. Maybe she could sneak a run in that very evening.

      “Am I gonna get to see a real alligator, too?” Spencer interrupted her yearning for tranquility and a good sweat. She never knew kids asked so many questions, but they did. Lots.

      “I don’t know.”

      “But this is Wouisiana. I gotta see an alligator.” Spencer allowed a little whine into his voice. She’d given him a picture book about the bayou state when she found out they’d have to go. He’d studied the thing on the plane, pointing out Mardi Gras floats, crawfish and his absolute favorite subject—alligators. Then she’d found a book called Mr. Breaux Bader and his Ghost Town Gator at the airport and read it three times while they waited on their luggage.

      “It’s Louisiana, and I’m sure we can find someone who will take us to see an alligator.”

      “Cool. I can’t wait.”

      The trees hung over the road, blocking out the afternoon sun, and as Annie took a big curve, she saw the iron gates opening to Beau Soleil. First impression was stately, old and very Southern. Annie felt a shiver as she drove through. She wasn’t sure if it was a sense of homecoming, which would have been weird, or a sense of foreboding, which would be alarming. But something snaked along her spine.

      “We’re here.”

      She heard the iPod touch thump against the seat.

      “What’s that?” Spencer asked.

      “What’s what?”

      “That.”

      Annie swiveled her head to see a small patch of ground ringed with an old iron fence laced with rose bushes. Concrete tombs surrounded a huge mausoleum sitting in the center. “Um, a cemetery.”

      “What’s that?”

      The questions the kid asked. Jeez. They hadn’t addressed death in those books she’d studied. Wasn’t that a parent’s job? Be truthful. “It’s where they bury people when they die.”

      “They put you in a box like that? I thought you got put in dirt or something. That’s where they put my gram. They covered her up with dirt.”

      “Well, usually they do, but this area is below sea level so they can’t do that here in South Louisiana.”

      “What’s sea wevel?”

      Lord, help me. She glanced in the mirror. He looked perplexed. “Ask you mother.”

      Explaining death, burial and the fact bodies would float if they were buried below sea level wasn’t in her job description. She had to draw the line somewhere.

      The car crunched down the gravel road framed by thick woods on either side. Finally, the view opened to reveal a huge yellow plantation home.

      “Wow,” Spencer breathed from the backseat.

      His response was an understatement. The home sitting at the end of the drive was beautiful in the way a grand old dame was. Clinging to the vestiges of beauty, showing the good bones beneath but helpless against the ravages of time. It was the perfect house for a Southern Gothic horror flick.

      Spencer bounced around in the backseat.

      “Hey, are you out of the booster?”

      “Yeah. We’re in the driveway.” He said it with a teenager’s “duh” tone.

      “Doesn’t matter. If I applied the brakes, you could get hurt.” She tapped the brakes a bit to show him. Spencer flew forward and smacked his head on the console.

      “Owwww!” he cried.

      Crap. She smothered another stronger curse under her tongue and stopped in the middle of the drive. She turned to the boy who had started wailing. “Oh, Spencer, I’m sorry. Let me see.”

      “No!” He cupped a small hand over his forehead. “You’re mean.”

      Great. Just what she needed. Tawny and her accusing blue eyes. Frankly, after four nannies in a year, the family was lucky to find even someone as childcare-challenged as Annie to take on the job. Tawny had a reputation, especially when it came to her son, but she had no clue Annie was undercover security for her child. Only her husband, Carter, knew the truth. Ace wanted everyone in the household to react naturally to better her chance of identifying the person threatening the child. The police thought the threats were perpetrated by a crazy fan and recommended standard precautions. But Annie’s boss had agreed with Carter Keene—they would take no chances.

      “Come on, Spencer, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

      She reached back and tugged at his arm.

      “Don’t,” he snuffled, finally removing his hand. There wasn’t even a mark on his forehead.

      She cupped his chin, angling his head left and right. “It looks fine. I’m sorry. Okay?”

      He nodded.

      She let out a sigh. “Now get your fanny back in the seat and buckle up. We don’t want you to get hurt again. Never know when a driver might need to brake for a squirrel or dog.”

      The little boy wiggled his hind end into the booster seat and swiped at the tears. The child had beautiful chocolate eyes with envy-inspiring lashes. “So can I have the Skittles in your purse since you hurted me?”

      Damn. Swindled by a five-year-old. She glanced at the purse she’d bought when she’d taken on the nanny assignment. It was big and floppy. She hated it, but it allowed her to carry things Spencer needed, like wipes, hand sanitizer, extra socks, bandages and the ever-present iPod touch with charger. She’d hidden her Skittles in the zipper pocket. “It’s ‘hurt,’ not ‘hurted,’ and you can have them.”

      She glanced in the rearview mirror. He smiled. “Cool.”

      Annie pulled into the large circular drive in front of the mansion. As she put the car in Park, the double doors flew open and Tawny emerged and clacked down the porch СКАЧАТЬ