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Maryse had been held captive in a hospital room for going on six hours and every hour seemed longer than the one before. Six straight hours of CNN. No one should endure such torture. Her captor, whom she’d named the Stepford Agent, for his lack of a single original thought, sat in a chair next to the door as if expecting her to make a break for it.
Truth be known, she would have, but every time he’d used the restroom, he’d handcuffed her to the bed, removing the option. When they’d first entered the room, he’d placed her cell phone on a stand in the corner, inches out of reach when she was shackled. She’d tried to snag it with a bedpan the first time he’d taken a potty break, figuring the risk of breaking the screen was worth it as long as she could still make a phone call. If she had to spend another hour closed up in here with Stepford, she might need that psych eval.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t heard Stepford coming out of the restroom and he’d caught her bedpan-handed. He’d removed her phone from the table and slipped it into his front jeans pocket where she wasn’t about to risk going, not even with a bedpan.
“You know it’s been hours since I’ve eaten,” she said.
“My orders don’t include serving you meals.”
“Your orders didn’t include peeing either, but I notice you do that when you’re so inclined. My digestive system didn’t cut off when you kidnapped me. And if something happens to me while you’re holding me hostage, you’re going to be responsible. Not to mention you’re going to look like the biggest dumbass in the world if I have a medical emergency while you’re restraining me in a hospital.”
Stepford rose from his chair and snapped the cuffs back on her and the bed, glaring the entire time. “I’ll get you something from the hospital cafeteria.”
“Oh, goody. Gourmet.”
“Food is food. Eat it or don’t. All I have to do is provide it.”
“Whatever. If they have tuna salad, that would be great.”
He stalked out of the room and Maryse flopped back on the bed a minute, enjoying a moment without someone staring at her. Being detained was hell on introverts. She eyeballed the television remote that Stepford had left on his chair. The bedpan was still within reach so she went to work trying to snag the remote.
It took a couple of tries, but she finally managed to drag the remote off of the fabric-covered chair and onto the floor. From that point, it was easy to drag it across the tile. When the remote was close to her feet, she tackled it like a starving man on a cheeseburger.
Fox News, NBC News, CBS News.
Good God! Was there anything left on television besides the horrible things people did to one another? Life was already full of reality. What she wanted was a distraction. Finally, she flipped to a repeat episode of Hell’s Kitchen. That would work. She liked food and she liked people who yelled, so it was a win-win.
She shoved the remote under her pillow and leaned back to watch.
She was just getting interested in the episode when Stepford returned with her lunch/dinner and placed it on the bed next to her. He closed the door, then released her from the handcuffs before perching in his chair again. Then he noticed the television and frowned.
“Where is the remote?” he asked.
“Somewhere you don’t want to get caught looking or my husband will shoot you.” If she never saw another newscast again, it would be too soon.
“I’m not watching this crap.”
“Then look out the window or stare at the floor. But unless you shoot me, you’re not getting the remote. You don’t have the good taste to use it properly.” She lifted the bread of her sandwich. “Is this tuna salad?”
His jaw flexed as he gave her a nod. She tore open a bag of potato chips and dug in, savoring the salt and washing it down with a soda. Stepford sat in stony silence, still glaring at her. Just when she was starting to not hate life altogether, the door opened and Ross walked in.
“There goes the neighborhood,” she muttered.
Ross strode over to the bed. “You and I are going to talk.”
“I can’t wait.”
“How did you get to the pond?”
“I drove.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The truth—how refreshing. We found your truck. If your business was as legitimate as you claim, why did you camouflage your vehicle?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to steal it.”
“And vehicle theft on barely used swamp roads is a big concern in Mudbug?”
“It concerns me.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute. What I believe is that you and your accomplice were trying to spy on my investigation.”
“I’m a botanist. I don’t spy. I study.”
“Studying my crime scene is considered interfering with a federal investigation.”
“I didn’t see any posted signs…no police tape. You expect me to stay off of my own property?”
“I expect you to stay away from me. I know exactly who you are, and I know Raissa is a friend of yours. I also know you like to meddle in police business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t like to meddle at all, and if you guys did your job, I wouldn’t have to be so pushy.”
Ross’s face reddened and beads of sweat began to form on his brow. He lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead.
“Headache?” she asked. “Maybe you hurt your head when you fell and discharged your weapon without cause.”
“I did not fall! Something hit me.”
“Really? What was it?”
“I didn’t see it.”
Maryse raised her eyebrows. “The marsh grass was only a couple feet high. I don’t know of any living creature that could take a grown man down and leave no sign of passage. Maybe you should think about hitting the gym. Age can catch up with you.”
Ross’s nostrils flared out as he sucked in air. “What I need is for you and your meddling friends to stay out of my business, and if you don’t, I’m going to make things very difficult for all of you.”
“Is that a threat?” Luc stepped into the room and gave Ross a look so stern it had him stepping back from the bed.
Maryse jumped off the bed and threw her arms around her husband. “Thank God you’re here. They bruised my arm, took my cell phone, tortured me for hours with CNN, and refused to feed me. Then this idiot tried to poison me.” She released Luc and pointed to Stepford.
“That’s a lie,” the agent said as he jumped up from his chair. “I brought you perfectly good food from the hospital cafeteria.”
“You brought me tuna salad. I told you I was allergic to mayonnaise.”
“You lying bi—”
Luc took a step toward him. “If you want to continue breathing, you’re not going to finish that sentence.”
Stepford’s mouth slammed shut and he took a step back.
“Is my wife under arrest?” he asked Ross.
“Not at this moment. I have more important things to worry about. But if my boat isn’t returned by tomorrow morning, I’m going to charge her as an accessory to its theft.”
Maryse whirled around to face Ross. “I didn’t—”
Luc put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Not now.”
It took some restraint, but Maryse managed to keep quiet.
“Then we’ll be going,” Luc said. “But get one thing straight—if you ever touch my wife again, even to shake her hand, or detain her without notifying me, FBI or no, I’ll pin your balls together with your badge. Are we clear?”
Ross’s eyes widened a bit but apparently, he took Luc at his word.
“Let’s go,” Luc said and tugged her shirtsleeve.
“I can explain,” Maryse said as they left the hospital.
Luc shook his head and didn’t say a word—not while they walked to his truck or on the entire drive back to their home. Maryse had never seen her husband so angry and knew that although he’d been furious with Ross for the way he handled the situation, the largest part of his anger was with her. And no matter her good intentions, no way was he going to find merit in spying on the FBI with Helena in tow.
Seven hours and a mere bag of potato chips later, she had to admit she couldn’t find any merit either.
After he pulled to a stop in their driveway, he exited the truck and went into the house without so much as a backward glance. Maryse climbed out of the truck and slowly made her way inside, certain the volcano would erupt once the front door was closed.
As she stepped inside and stood in the living room, Luc stormed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator. Oh yeah, he was definitely mad. But more importantly, he looked scared, and if anger was a scarce thing with Luc, fear was practically extinct.
Guilt washed through her in waves.
Why had she been so stubborn? Luc had never asked her to do anything without a reason. Why hadn’t she trusted that the man who loved her more than anything had a valid reason for asking her to stay out of the swamp?
He stared out the kitchen window for what seemed like forever. The sound of the kitchen clock ticking was the only thing that broke the silence. Finally, he turned around to face her.
“Do you realize how bad things could have been if someone besides Agent Ross had walked up on you?”
“No,” she said honestly. “I don’t realize how bad things could have been because you won’t tell me anything.”
“Is my word not good enough for you? Do you really trust me so little?”
Maryse’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d hit her exactly in her guilty spot. “I never thought about it that way. I just wanted to help find Raissa.”
Luc ran one hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. I want Raissa found as much as you do. I’m not trying to diminish the seriousness of the situation, but you’re not a trained detective. Even if there were no risk from my end of things hanging over you, it would still be dangerous for you to insert yourself in the middle of the investigation. Someone kidnapped a federal agent and tried to kill another. Do you think they’d even blink at doing the same or even worse to you?”
“No, I guess not,” Maryse said, the enormity of the situation crashing into her like a tidal wave.
Luc crossed the living room and lifted her head with one hand so that she looked directly at him. “I love you more than life itself. If something happened to you, I don’t know how I’d make it.”
Tears filled her eyes and she threw her arms around her husband. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry or think I don’t trust you.”
He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I know you didn’t. And part of the blame is on me. I should have given you more information.”
“I know you can’t tell me things, and that’s something I have to learn to live with.”
“That’s true, but this is different. This time, the potential threat was toward you. I should have bent the rules and told you more. In that sense, I guess I didn’t trust you either, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Maryse released him and he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his fingers. “We’re two sorry people,” she said, managing a small smile.
“Everyone can improve,” he said and motioned to the couch. “I’d like to tell you why I’m so worried. If you still want to know.”
“Of course!” Maryse sat in the middle of the couch and Luc dropped next to her. He was silent for several seconds, staring out the living room window and into the street, then finally he cleared his throat.
“Remember six months ago when I was gone for a month?”
“How could I forget? It was the longest thirty days of my life.”
He smiled. “Even longer than the first time Helena showed up?”
“Okay, the second-longest thirty days of my life.”
“I was working undercover on a big drug case in New Orleans. The supplier is a real piece of work. He targeted middle school and high school kids. Got them hooked on meth.”
Maryse’s hand involuntarily flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, he was smart about it, too. Picked wealthier areas where the kids would have plenty of disposable income but parents who were too busy working or traveling to give them much attention. He used kids to do the dealing, so it made it even easier to convince the others to use.”
“And once they tried it…”
“They were hooked. Go too long without it and the kids would fall into a state of depression that they couldn’t handle.”
“So they’d go looking for more drugs.”
Luc nodded. “After a couple of deaths in the same school district, the DEA went in to try to identify the supplier. With the middle school’s approval, I took a position as a substitute teacher.”
Maryse stared at her husband. The husband who, like her, wasn’t convinced he ever wanted kids. “How’d that work out for you?”
“Ha. Yeah, in some ways, it was the hardest undercover case I’ve ever worked. But I managed to spot the dealers quickly and since they were young and unseasoned, it wasn’t hard to track them back to the source. I reported all my findings for a month and then at the end of thirty days, the DEA made the bust.”
Maryse shook her head, slightly confused. “I don’t understand. It sounds like everything went well. And that was six months ago, so why is it a problem now?”
“Because Antonio Rico, the head of the supply chain, made bail right after his arrest, then instead of heading straight for his attorney’s office to plan his defense, he launched his own investigation to figure out who the narc was. Word has it that Antonio is not all that stable and is hell-bent on revenge.”
Maryse felt her chest constrict. “Does he know it was you?”
Luc nodded. “We think so, and to make matters worse, no one has seen him in over a week.”
“And you think he may come after me to get to you.”
Luc nodded. “The wife and children of another agent on the case disappeared two weeks ago, and they still haven’t been found.”
Maryse’s heart pounded in her temples and she felt slightly dizzy.
“We have no proof that Rico was involved,” Luc continued, “but we have no other viable suspects.” Luc reached over and clasped her hand. “I am so sorry about this. I never thought my work would come back on me like this, much less you.”
Maryse sucked in a breath and slowly blew it out. “You see it in movies all the time, but I always figured it was just a plot device…you know, something that didn’t really happen that often.”
“It doesn’t. Most criminals are more concerned with getting a not guilty verdict. Seeking revenge on federal agents will only buy them more trouble and they know it, but apparently Rico is not your garden-variety criminal.”
“Jesus.” Suddenly the room felt hot and cramped.
“Do you have any idea what I thought when Agent Ross called and said he’d found you in the swamp?”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh no. You must have thought…I mean, given the circumstances, you thought he meant a body.”
Luc nodded, looking miserable.
Maryse teared up again, horrified that her own stubbornness had caused her husband such pain. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. And I promise I will keep concrete beneath my feet and try to stay in plain sight of others. I can move my computer and some of my equipment to the hotel and work there until you think it’s safe.”
Luc leaned over and kissed her. “I hate for you to change up your entire routine, but I’d be lying if I said that wouldn’t take a load off my mind.”
“Can you help me move some stuff tomorrow morning?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, uh, do you want to know what I was doing?”
Luc shook his head. “I think I already have a good idea, and I assume you didn’t get anything useful or you would have already blurted it out by now. Although I do admit to being slightly curious about the boat theft part of the accusations.”
“Helena stole the boat.”
“Why did I know that’s what you were going to say?”
“Because it’s Helena.”
“True. So where is she now?”
“I have no idea.” Maryse bolted upright. “Crap. We forgot to get my cell phone from Stepford.”
“Stepford?”
“Stepford Agent—the man who was guarding me.”
Luc smiled and moved closer to her. “I’ll get it tomorrow. Now, if the fighting is over, can we move to the making up part?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”