didn’t miss the fact Annie acted out of character. Since he’d met her, everything had been deliberate, careful and no-nonsense. Now she asked him questions she must know the answer to. Hell, half of America watched CSI. He sealed the bag.
She shifted, pushing back her hair. “So what about security cameras? Don’t you have them?”
“Why would we?” he asked.
“Well, with the disappearance of—I mean, Tawny said—” She stopped herself, looking for the words. “Some families who have suffered tragedies are more protective and plan against other—”
“We’re not paranoid,” Picou interrupted, her tone marginally defensive. “Our daughter was taken and it didn’t matter whether we had dogs, fences or guards on every corner of the property. Bad things happen despite our best efforts.”
His mother’s response didn’t surprise him. Even now, she tried to tell him she was sorry—that Della’s disappearance had nothing to do with him. But it couldn’t erase his mother’s accusations the day Della disappeared. Couldn’t wipe away the way she’d shrieked at him, accusing him of not watching out for his sister, labeling the kidnapping his fault. To a ten-year-old boy, it had been devastating. Picou had spent years trying to apologize.
At times, he felt the emptiness in her words. Felt the unreasonable blame. His mother didn’t want to feel the way she felt. She couldn’t help herself.
“I didn’t mean to offend, Mrs. Dufrene. Just trying to help.”
Nate looked at Annie. “Since you’re in the mood to help, give me your opinion. You think this is related to the threats in California or just a simple prank?” He watched her gaze hit the bag dangling in his hand.
“I’m not sure. Most of the staff and crew know Tawny calls Spencer ‘birdie.’ The whole thing could be a sick joke. No one has tried to hurt him, so it could be someone wanting to get the Keenes’ goat. Someone who wants to use fear against them.”
“Nice thinking, Watson,” he quipped.
“What? You asked,” she snapped, her happy-camper vibe gone. He liked her better serious with her feathers ruffled. Felt right.
“I thought it sounded good.” Picou nodded, her eyes earnest.
Actually it was valid. Someone was using terror as a weapon against the couple. He knew how powerful the love between a parent and child was. Not firsthand. But he’d watched his parents’ marriage unravel with Della’s disappearance and murder. They’d never healed. His thoughts flickered back to the folder. He needed to talk to his mother before word leaked out at the office.
Someone, namely Kelli—the bigmouth in the unit—was bound to squeal about the woman asking questions down in Lafourche.
Nate set the bagged bird on the wrought-iron table and turned to Annie. “Did you use this door this morning?”
She shook her head. “Almost, but I went back to talk to Tawny. After that, I checked on Spencer and slipped out the side door.
I didn’t see anyone around Beau Soleil, but I wasn’t looking either. The only person up this morning was Mr. Keene and he was in the kitchen fixing coffee. Maybe he heard someone.”
Briefly the idea of Keene staging the threat for press or to suit his own needs crossed Nate’s mind, but he quickly discarded it.
Only someone with no soul would falsely threaten his own child for attention. Keene wasn’t a nominee for Humanitarian of the Year, but he didn’t seem to be lacking in love for his son, not to mention he’d tried to keep the threats quiet. No, someone else was playing a sick game with the Keene family.
As far as Nate was concerned, the dead bird on the doormat meant game on. The need to best the perpetrator welled up inside him. “Let’s find out. Is Keene around?”
“His Jeep is.” Annie pointed toward the gravel parking area at the side of the house.
“Grab him for me.”
Annie narrowed her eyes. “Just because I’m the Hispanic nanny doesn’t mean you can order me around.
She shifted, pushing back her hair. “So what about security cameras? Don’t you have them?”
“Why would we?” he asked.
“Well, with the disappearance of—I mean, Tawny said—” She stopped herself, looking for the words. “Some families who have suffered tragedies are more protective and plan against other—”
“We’re not paranoid,” Picou interrupted, her tone marginally defensive. “Our daughter was taken and it didn’t matter whether we had dogs, fences or guards on every corner of the property. Bad things happen despite our best efforts.”
His mother’s response didn’t surprise him. Even now, she tried to tell him she was sorry—that Della’s disappearance had nothing to do with him. But it couldn’t erase his mother’s accusations the day Della disappeared. Couldn’t wipe away the way she’d shrieked at him, accusing him of not watching out for his sister, labeling the kidnapping his fault. To a ten-year-old boy, it had been devastating. Picou had spent years trying to apologize.
At times, he felt the emptiness in her words. Felt the unreasonable blame. His mother didn’t want to feel the way she felt. She couldn’t help herself.
“I didn’t mean to offend, Mrs. Dufrene. Just trying to help.”
Nate looked at Annie. “Since you’re in the mood to help, give me your opinion. You think this is related to the threats in California or just a simple prank?” He watched her gaze hit the bag dangling in his hand.
“I’m not sure. Most of the staff and crew know Tawny calls Spencer ‘birdie.’ The whole thing could be a sick joke. No one has tried to hurt him, so it could be someone wanting to get the Keenes’ goat. Someone who wants to use fear against them.”
“Nice thinking, Watson,” he quipped.
“What? You asked,” she snapped, her happy-camper vibe gone. He liked her better serious with her feathers ruffled. Felt right.
“I thought it sounded good.” Picou nodded, her eyes earnest.
Actually it was valid. Someone was using terror as a weapon against the couple. He knew how powerful the love between a parent and child was. Not firsthand. But he’d watched his parents’ marriage unravel with Della’s disappearance and murder. They’d never healed. His thoughts flickered back to the folder. He needed to talk to his mother before word leaked out at the office.
Someone, namely Kelli—the bigmouth in the unit—was bound to squeal about the woman asking questions down in Lafourche.
Nate set the bagged bird on the wrought-iron table and turned to Annie. “Did you use this door this morning?”
She shook her head. “Almost, but I went back to talk to Tawny. After that, I checked on Spencer and slipped out the side door.
I didn’t see anyone around Beau Soleil, but I wasn’t looking either. The only person up this morning was Mr. Keene and he was in the kitchen fixing coffee. Maybe he heard someone.”
Briefly the idea of Keene staging the threat for press or to suit his own needs crossed Nate’s mind, but he quickly discarded it.
Only someone with no soul would falsely threaten his own child for attention. Keene wasn’t a nominee for Humanitarian of the Year, but he didn’t seem to be lacking in love for his son, not to mention he’d tried to keep the threats quiet. No, someone else was playing a sick game with the Keene family.
As far as Nate was concerned, the dead bird on the doormat meant game on. The need to best the perpetrator welled up inside him. “Let’s find out. Is Keene around?”
“His Jeep is.” Annie pointed toward the gravel parking area at the side of the house.
“Grab him for me.”
Annie narrowed her eyes. “Just because I’m the Hispanic nanny doesn’t mean you can order me around.
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