The Awakening (20 page)

“And does Emmett know that your dad lost your money, as well?”

“He’s always intimated that I should have money to burn from my ‘fancy French career,’ so I don’t think so. I get the impression that he thinks I should just write the bank a check and get back to the regular business of rice farming.” She frowned. “The way he does it, though, it’s almost like he’s prodding me to talk about it, not just stating a fact.”

“Maybe he’s trying to figure out if you have money, or maybe he was trying to get you to admit that you don’t have any money so that he could talk you into selling. For someone who claims to be concerned, he sure is missing from his job a lot.”

She blew out a breath. Emmett’s cabin had been empty when they’d tried to find him that morning after the visit from the crew, and all attempts to raise him by cell phone had gone straight to voice mail. “I don’t know what to think any more.”

He nodded. “Then let’s stop speculating and go find some facts.”

He grabbed his backpack from his truck and passed another to her. “It’s got rope, water, protein bars, a flare gun and, of course, your pistol.”

She took the pack and pulled it across her back. He slung his pack over one shoulder and slid his pistol into his waistband.

“I’m going to work as quickly as possible,” he said. “There’s a storm brewing and it will wash away the tracks. I know you grew up here, but you’ve probably stuck mostly to the trails. We’ll be walking through dense growth. Be observant of your surroundings—ground, brush and trees above. Some snakes and spiders can be just as deadly as bear or alligator.”

Her eyes widened a little, but she only nodded.

“And there’s something else. This swamp isn’t...normal. If you get the feeling that things are skewed even more out of balance than before, let me know.”

Her relief was apparent. “You feel it, too?” she asked, her voice soft.

“I always have.”

* * *

J
OSIE SWIPED AT HER DAMP
bangs, wishing she’d worn a hat. Despite Christmas being only weeks away, it was in the seventies. The storm that was brewing had the humidity up to its highest possible level.

Tanner hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he’d work quickly. She’d had no idea how he managed to pick up the trail so easily, but they’d moved at a steady clip. So steady her calves were starting to cramp and she’d begun daydreaming about the water in her backpack.

Just when she thought she was going to have to ask for a break, Tanner drew up short and muttered something she couldn’t understand. She stepped to his side and immediately had some guesses about what he’d said. The embankment dropped off a good ten feet into the swirling water of the bayou. Another lost trail.

She pulled off her backpack and sat down on a huge rock near the edge of the bank. She found her water and it tasted so good going down that for a moment she managed to forget that the entire morning had come up a loss.

Tanner pulled out his water and took a drink, still studying the bayou and the bank on the other side. He looked back at her and gave her a once-over.

“You doing okay? I should have taken a break already. When I start working, I tend to lose all track of time.”

“I’m fine. Don’t ask me tomorrow, but I’m fine for now.”

He smiled. “I sometimes have people say ‘how hard can it be walking around in the woods all day?’ Next time, I’ll have them call you.”

“Ha. I could give them an earful. So, what now? We go back home?”

“That’s something I want to talk to you about. Come look.”

She rose from the rock, the muscles in her legs already stiffening, and looked down the bayou where he pointed.

“I don’t see tracks in the mud on the far bank, but if he walked on the cypress roots down to that tree that spans the bayou, he could have crossed there. If you’re up for it, I’d like to try and cross and see if we can pick up his trail on the other side.”

Her mind was willing, but her body lodged a complaint. Mentally promising herself a long, hot bubble bath, she replied, “Whatever you think. You’re the expert here. If you think there’s a chance to pick up the path again, I want to do it.”

He nodded and looked up at the sky, then at his watch. “We’ve traveled mostly southeast for about two miles.”

“Only two miles? You’re going to make me cry. It felt like ten, at least.”

“It’s the humidity and the thickness of the brush. It can create a mild sense of claustrophobia, which makes it feel like you’ve been in here much longer than you have. Are we still on your property?”

“I think so. It stretches about twenty miles out from the main house to the north, south and east. All the rice pastures are closer to town, and across the highway from this swamp.”

“Really? I had no idea your property went so deep into the swamp. So the south side stretches almost to town?”

“All the way, actually. The property line ends behind the row of businesses on Main Street, right where Big Bayou meets the channel.”

He frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did your dad create roads from town back into the swamp so that he could check his property easily?”

“Yes. It’s part of Emmett’s job to patrol them a couple of times a week.”

“And Big Bayou branches off into a million inlets all through the property.” He blew out a breath. “That makes it so easy for anyone to access this side of your property directly from town.”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. I guess anyone could take a car or boat into the property and cross to the main house completely unobserved. Assuming they knew the swamp well enough.” She blew out a breath. “Which definitely puts it back to someone in Miel.”

“I’m afraid so.” He pointed across the bank. “Let’s see if we can pick up the trail on the other side—follow it until it runs out, assuming we can find it, of course.”

“And if it leads nowhere?”

“Then I’ll start finding out where everyone in Miel was this morning when that tree fell, starting with your foreman.”

Josie picked up her pack and slung it across her back. “Then let’s get going.”

They worked their way down the edge of the embankment until they reached the place with the log across the bayou. Tanner scaled the cypress roots down to the log and then turned around to spot Josie as she followed him down the slope.

She held her breath as she stepped across the log. She was an excellent swimmer, but you never knew when an alligator might be hiding in the brush, just waiting to snag an easy supper. Even an Olympic swimmer was no match for an alligator.

As she took the last step off the log and onto the far bank, she blew out a breath of relief. Tanner, who’d taken her hand to steady her as she jumped from the log, smiled at her.

“Good job,” he said. “A lot of people would have quit on the other side.”

“A lot of people aren’t as stubborn as me.”

He laughed. “In this case, that’s a good thing. Now let’s get busy and save your home.”

She stepped carefully behind him in the slippery mud as they made their way up the bank and into the foliage.

“Wait here,” he said, and paced off about twenty yards to the right, then turned around and walked past her to the right. About ten yards past, he stopped and squatted.

“There’s a footprint here,” he said.

She walked up to stand beside him as he rose.

“Is it the same as the others?” she asked.

“It’s the same boot print and looks to be the same size, but it’s a common boot and size. Still, it’s the only print I see around here.”

“Then let’s see where it leads.”

He looked at the surrounding area and pointed behind them to an area where the brush was pressed down a bit on the ground. “There.”

He began picking his way through the brush, and Josie fell in step behind him. As she walked, she checked up, down and side to side with every step. The process was very slow and deliberate.

She glanced past the tops of the cypress trees every few steps, worried about the dark clouds that were starting to accumulate in the sky above them. It wasn’t supposed to rain until nighttime, and she hoped it held off that long.

It seemed as if they’d walked forever when Tanner stopped again and pointed. “I saw a flash, like light reflecting off glass or metal,” he whispered.

She nodded and carefully followed him through the brush. He’d slowed his pace to a crawl, trying to eliminate as much sound as possible, which was difficult on the dry terrain. As they got closer to the place he’d indicated, Josie could make out the top of a truck.

She sucked in a breath and tugged on Tanner’s shirt. “That’s Emmett’s truck,” she whispered.

He nodded and she knew his mind was already racing with the possibilities.

They crept up to the road where the truck stood, parked and empty. Tanner scanned the area and then stepped out of the brush and over to the truck to look in the bed.

“He’s carrying fertilizer and water hoses back here. Any reason he’d have that stuff?”

Josie shook her head. “It’s winter. We’re not planting anything right now, and the rye grass is already established.”

“Then let’s track him down and see what he’s up to.”

He checked the brush on both sides of the road and finally waved a hand down one side. “He’s entered the brush in this area in multiple places. The only reason to do that is if you don’t want to create a discernible trail.”

“But it’s the side away from the house,” Josie pointed out.

“Yeah, but the care taken to cover his tracks bothers me. If he was doing a basic inspection of the property, why would he need to hide?”

Josie bit her lower lip. “I don’t know, but I guess we should find out.”

* * *

T
ANNER FOLLOWED THE
foreman’s path through the swamp. About twenty yards into the brush, he found the place where all the entry points met, and it was a simple matter to follow the well-worn trail. As a plus, because so much of the trail had worn down to dirt, their progress was almost silent.

The better to sneak up on secret-keeping foremen with.

As they rounded a bend in the path, a smell that Tanner was familiar with wafted by his nostrils and he sighed. A minute later, they stepped into a clearing in the middle of the swamp. Wood-framed containers covered with chicken wire stood in rows in the clearing. Metal barrels at the end of each row of containers caught rainwater and distributed it to the containers using a makeshift navigation system of battery-operated pumps and garden hoses.

Josie sucked in a breath and stepped up to one of the containers, peering at the green plants growing inside. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked.

“Yes, it is.” Emmett Vernon stepped out of the swamp, a shotgun in his hands. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Chapter Sixteen

Tanner mentally cursed himself for not pulling out his pistol as soon as he’d caught a whiff of the marijuana plants. He’d been listening for movement as they progressed, but Vernon, with all his years spent in the swamp, was perfectly capable of moving undetected, especially as they’d stepped into his territory. He’d probably been watching them approach through the swamp.

Tanner clenched his hands, trying to gauge his ability to pull his pistol and fire versus Vernon’s ability to lift the shotgun and squeeze one off. Finally, he decided that Vernon would probably get one shot off before he did. He could live with that, as long as that shot wasn’t at Josie.

The foreman looked over at him, then glanced at Josie, who stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. He lifted his shotgun and released the shells. “Oh, hell, I’m not going to shoot you!”

The tension in Tanner’s back and neck swept out like the tide, and Josie slumped down onto a stump.

“Emmett, what is all this?” she asked. “I know I haven’t been able to give you a raise, but I never thought you’d do something like this.”

“You’ve got something going with the general store owner,” Tanner said, “and a buyer in New Orleans, maybe.”

Vernon looked at him and narrowed his eyes.

“I heard your conversation the other night,” Tanner said.

Vernon nodded. “Then I guess I’ve got some explaining to do. Mind you, I’m not trying to make excuses. I’m just going to tell you what’s going on.”

Josie’s eyes widened and she rose from the stump, her face pale. “You’ve got cancer.”

“What?” Tanner stared back and forth from Vernon to Josie.

Vernon sighed. “I stopped chemo, hoping I could develop this strain of weed to counteract the worst of the nausea. I’m one of those that pretty much feels that way all the time. The chemo makes it worse.”

“I knew you’d lost some weight,” Josie said, “and you weren’t on top of things like always, but I didn’t make the connection.”

“How did you make it now?” Tanner asked.

“Because Ted’s wife has cancer,” Josie said, “and she’s sick a lot. I read an article on the flight back from France on medical marijuana. When you brought up Emmett’s conversation with Ted just now, it all clicked together.”

“And your New Orleans connection?” Tanner asked the foreman.

“A scientist working with me to perfect the strain. He’ll apply for the proper credentials if I can get it right.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, at the moment, what we’re doing isn’t exactly legal. I understand that you’ll need to report it.”

Tanner shook his head. “I’m not an employee of the state any longer, and this is private property. My suggestion is that you talk to your scientist and get all this moved to a laboratory somewhere.”

Vernon nodded. “I was about to. He called me yesterday with the particulars and I was going to move the plants on my day off. I started worrying about discovery when all the vandalism kicked up a notch. After what you saw, I knew it wasn’t a bear. I was afraid if the wrong person found this, the sheriff would be more than happy to toss Josie in jail.”

“You’d probably be right on that account,” Tanner agreed. “We tracked you from the bayou to the road, and then picked up your trail to this site. It wasn’t simple, but I doubt I’m the only person in Miel who could do it.”

Vernon narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t been to the bayou in weeks. Not since I got this irrigation system in place. I’ve been driving up and entering from different places off the main road.”