Waters Run Deep. Liz Talley

forward and took the actress’s elbow. “Go sit down, Tawny. I’ll talk to the deputy.”

      Her voice was nice. Kind of low and gravelly. It had quiet authority, probably from all the nannying she did.

      Tawny nodded and allowed a pale Picou to lead her away. Nate looked hard at his own mother. She looked shaken and he felt every tremble of her hand as it stroked the actress’s back. His mother’s clouded eyes met his and he tried to convey reassurance in his nod, but as usual, he failed to comfort her.

      He turned his gaze back to the nanny.

      “I’m Annie Perez,” she said, stepping forward without extending a hand, as if recognizing the situation didn’t call for niceties but rather expediency. “I work for the Keenes as Spencer’s caretaker.”

      People still scrambled around them. Many looked to be part of the production crew, if their sweaty T-shirts and baggy parachute shorts were any indication. He would expect the nanny to be searching desperately, but she wasn’t. Her calm struck him as peculiar.

      “Lieutenant Nate Dufrene.”

      “Dufrene?”

      “Picou’s my mother.”

      “Oh.”

      “Time is of essence…”

      She stiffened. “Right. Tawny took Spencer to her room to spend some time with him. She said he fell asleep while she read to him, so she stepped out to make a phone call. When she hung up, he was gone. I’ve searched the rooms on the second floor, top to bottom.”

      “Closets? Bed—”

      “Thoroughly,” Annie interrupted, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. Sweat beaded her upper lip, reminding him to wipe the sweat from his own forehead. Too hot for mid-September.

      “The first floor?”

      “Your mother and Mr. Keene searched the bottom floor—”

      “Third floor?” he interrupted.

      “The housekeeper—I’ve forgotten her name—and the production assistant are searching now. Mr. Keene brought some of the crew to search the grounds and outer buildings.”

      “Lucille.”

      She frowned. “What?”

      “The housekeeper’s name is Lucille.” He realized that had nothing to do with the task at hand. “What about personal security? Does Keene have it?”

      “His name is Brick, but he was with Carter on set. He’s out there searching now,” she said, with the slight lift of her shoulder. Any other time and he would have thought it sexy, but not in the middle of a crisis. Or that’s what he told himself.

      “Where do you think the child is?”

      “If I knew, you wouldn’t be here.”

      Okay, it had been a dumb question. “Best guess?”

      “I don’t know. We had a long flight from L.A., and he could have gotten up to look for me or Tawny and fallen back asleep somewhere. He’s done that before, but if he dozed off elsewhere, it’s somewhere very strange.” She averted her eyes and he knew there was something she wasn’t saying. Something darker and more worrisome.

      She started walking toward the door of the house. She didn’t invite him to follow. He followed anyway. She turned around. “You may want to talk to Mr. Keene. He’s in the kitchen on the phone with the FBI.”

      “FBI?” Nate stepped inside the house. “The child has been missing for all of thirty minutes, why would Keene call the feds?”

      “That’s not my place to say.”

      “Humor me. There’s a child missing.”

      He saw reason overcome duty. “Fine. The family has been receiving threats for the last several months, directed at Spencer.”

      He studied her in the gloom of the entryway. Alert, no-nonsense and levelheaded, this woman seemed once again something more than what her job title hinted. “You sure you’re just the nanny?”

      A flicker of something appeared in those quicksilver eyes. “What do you expect? A bodyguard? The Keenes have one of those.”

      Her words didn’t drip with sarcasm, but it was there. She seemed offended he didn’t trust her. “Sorry. You don’t talk like a nanny and with the threats, other precautions might have been taken.”

      Another lift of her shoulder. Again, kind of sexy. “Look, I’m just a former real-estate agent. The housing market sucks, and I needed a job. Besides, the only threats have been letters and, maybe, a rock through the production office’s window. Nothing to necessitate locking down the kid. The FBI is looking into it as a courtesy to Mr. Keene since he consults with them on his films. My job is to keep the kid with me when he’s not with his parents…something even a former real-estate agent can manage.”

      He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. He liked her prickly and smart-assed. Suited her. And made those mysterious gray eyes crackle. “Okay, I get the picture. So why aren’t you as concerned as everyone else?”

      “Who says I’m not?” she challenged, lifting her chin. Her skin was smooth and golden, her cheeks broad and high. Her hair frizzed around her face, making her hard edges a bit softer. She was altogether an intriguing woman. “Do I have to run about like a chicken missing its head in order to be worried?”

      “No.” Yes. Every woman he knew reacted in that way. Were real-estate agents any different?

      “So I don’t panic. Won’t help find Spencer. Oh, and by the way, I don’t know what was in the notes they received. Only what I heard from the staff. You’ll have to ask Mr. Keene.”

      She’d anticipated his next question. Odd.

      He stood a moment watching her as she pushed through the swinging kitchen door. Then he followed and found Carter Keene, careworn and sweat-soaked, holding the corded phone Nate’s mother insisted on keeping. He spoke intently to whoever was on the other end of the line. When he saw Nate, he cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. The cavernous kitchen felt oppressive with the man’s apprehension. Nate preferred Annie’s calm assurance or Tawny’s wailing melodrama over the desperation in Carter Keene’s eyes.

      “Nate? Thanks for coming. You know about the threats against Spencer in California?”

      Nate nodded. “Ms. Perez told me a little.”

      The former star of Miami Metro, now turned director, looked at Annie. “Tell him what he needs to know. I’ll join you out back when I finish talking to Agent Burrell.”

      Annie gave Carter a look, as if communicating something. Were they involved somehow? With Carter’s former reputation, it wouldn’t surprise him. Nannies had to be easy plucking, but this one didn’t seem the type to dally with the boss.

      Yet after ten years in law enforcement, nothing truly surprised him.

      The nanny motioned Nate through the back door and onto the bricked patio as if she were the hostess of Beau Soleil. As if she were the one in charge. He bristled. This was his damned house. Okay, not his, per se, but his family’s. Something about this woman both soothed and rankled.

      “Look, I need to call for backup. Do you know if Keene has talked to Blaine Gentry about the situation?”

      She shook her head and averted her gaze. “I don’t know who Blaine Gentry is.”

      “The sheriff.”

      “Oh,” she said, her eyes searching the property behind the house. “What’s out there?”

      She pointed to the horizon toward where the land sloped off toward the Bayou Tete. She also ignored his question.

      “The bayou.” He combed his hand through his hair, wicking the sweat from his forehead. “So is