To Honour And To Protect

Chapter Four

Louisiana bayou

Saturday, July 5, 7:35 p.m.

In the fading light of another warm summer day, Addison came outside with two bowls of ice cream. Sitting next to Andy on the top step of the porch, she handed him one.

“We had ice cream last night.”

“It’s summer,” Addison said with a smile. “And you’ve played hard all day. Besides, it won’t keep forever.” Her friend Nico, father of Bernadette, her best childhood friend, had given her permission to stay here in his mother’s old place. He’d brought them out by boat and had delivered more supplies yesterday. Although she appreciated what the weather-worn shack provided, she didn’t trust the ancient freezer on the back porch.

Andy didn’t waste time arguing over the bonus treat and he dug in with enthusiasm.

As dark crept in from the edges of the swamp, the insects ramped up with an evening chorus that rose and fell with the soft breeze. In the tall marsh grass across the water, fireflies took flight. “Look.” She pointed toward the soft twinkling.

“Can I catch some? Nico told me kids here use them as night-lights.”

“Not tonight.” She was tired and wary despite being as alone as a person could be out here. Other than Nico’s, she hadn’t even heard another boat in the area for days, yet she felt edgy as if they were being watched. They’d been here for two weeks, and according to the news, Craig continued to evade authorities as the story of his illegal dealings came out in dribs and drabs. “I did that a few times when I was your age,” she said to her son. “Even once during a campout right here.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide.

“Mmm-hmm. Mama Leonie, Nico’s mom, lived out here more than in town. Nico’s daughter was my best friend and we used to come here every chance we got. There was only one room then.”

“No bedroom?”

Addison shook her head. “She didn’t want one.”

“Where did she sleep?”

“Outside on the back porch.” Addison looked around once more, picturing it as it had been. “I always thought it was the best tree house.”

“But it’s not in the tree. I think we should call it a swamp fort.” Andy twisted around and then leaned forward to peer through the slatted porch to the water below. “I like this part hanging over the water.”

“It keeps the rooms cooler.”

“Huh.”

Addison smiled to herself. The conversation relaxed her. Feeling watched was simply paranoia, which wasn’t unexpected. Nico had assured her no one came out this way much since Leonie’s death a few years back. He promised that she and Andy would be safe in the old Voodoo Queen’s place. Few people knew this place was still habitable. More important, only two people knew that Addison knew about it.

“This is a real adventure, Mom.” Andy scooped up another big bite of ice cream. “I saw a frog out there.” He pointed with his spoon toward the edge of the water. “And an alligator down that way.” The spoon moved down the shore, away from the house.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, his mouth full and a sticky stain of chocolate bracketing its corners. “Nico showed me how to spot ’em.”

“Did he?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s the expert.” Nico knew these swamps inside and out and stayed busy as a tour guide. When she’d knocked on his door in the middle of the night two weeks ago, he hadn’t batted an eye at her request for help. Stomping into his boots, he’d taken her keys and driven her out to the edge of the swamp without asking any uncomfortable questions. After promising he wouldn’t mention her arrival to anyone, he’d loaded two boats, tied them together and guided her out here. Once they’d unloaded and he was satisfied she had key supplies, he’d left her one boat and returned to his dock with the other.

She supposed other people might’ve felt obligated to help because she’d sent money back to help with Mama Leonie’s health care and final expenses. But Nico lived by a different philosophy. You took care of your own, no matter how much time or silence passed between visits. That had shown through when he’d returned with a boatload of supplies at midday, and he’d clearly spent some important time with Andy while she’d put things away in the house.

Now they had a stock of wood and charcoal, a generator and fuel to keep the small luxuries like the freezer, the ancient water heater and the two lightbulbs inside the shack going. They couldn’t stay here indefinitely, but they could certainly stay through the summer and longer if she hadn’t figured out the next step by then.

“Mom, the swamp is kinda creepy at night.”

She felt herself smiling. “In a good way?”

“Yeah!

“Nico told me his mom knew everything about the swamp.”

“She sure did. And she loved to teach anyone who’d listen. She treated me like a granddaughter. I learned her secret recipe for pancakes when I turned ten.”

Andy looked up at her. “Would she have been my grandma, too?”

“You better believe it. The two of you would’ve been best friends.” She rubbed her hand across his small shoulders. “Leonie was very special. I loved coming out here to see her.”

“This was your adventure place?”

Addison nodded. “Yes. And it’s good to be back.” More than she’d expected, really. It felt like home, even though she wasn’t anywhere near the farm where she’d grown up in Mississippi.

“I think it’s better than SeaWorld!”

“Just don’t try and pet a gator.” They shared a quiet laugh. “Tomorrow we can start exploring. I can show you what’s—”

“Safe,” Andy interrupted with a put-upon sigh. “You said we wouldn’t have to be together the whole time on this adventure.”

“I said we wouldn’t have to be in the car the whole time. And you’ve been playing on your own, right?”

“Right.”

“I just want to be sure you know what to do or where to go if you come across something dangerous.” Or someone.

Craig wouldn’t have the first idea of how to find this place, shouldn’t even know about it, but she wanted to be sure Andy knew how to find Nico in case they were somehow injured or separated.

“That doesn’t sound like an adventure.”

“Oh, it will be.”

Water splashed nearby. Andy turned to her with wide eyes. “Was that a gator?”

“Probably not. Gators slide into the water and most of the time they hardly make a sound or even a ripple.” A small exaggeration, but worth the resulting expression of wonder on his face. “A sound like that’s usually a fish or frog.” Not a person, she reminded herself. People who slipped or splashed made even more noise.

“Nico taught you that, didn’t he?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She held out her empty bowl, let him stack his on top. “Take those inside to the sink, please.”

“Do I have to wash ’em?”

“No, sweetie. I’ll do it after bedtime.”

She listened to his small footsteps, waited for the inevitable noise as the bowls and spoons landed with a clatter in the old porcelain sink. He rushed back out to join her a moment later, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

“About bedtime...”

She smiled into his serious face. “Yes?”

“It’s summer, so there isn’t such thing as a school night.”

“I noticed.”

“And we’re on an adventure.”

“We are.” She knew where he was headed, but she waited for him to say what was on his mind.

“Could I not have a bedtime?”

She waited. This was the way they did things. He had to ask nicely even when he delivered sound reasons.

“Please,” he added quickly with a winning smile.

“You still have a lot of growing to do,” she pointed out. “Sleep is important for growing.” Just after Christmas she’d bought him new tennis shoes, only to have him grow out of them within a few days. “Enough sleep,” she amended, anticipating his next argument.

His face fell but only for a moment. “There were nights last summer that didn’t have bedtime and we were at home.”

“True.” She drilled her finger at his belly, making him squeal and jump back. “There will be nights like that on our adventure, too.”

“It’s not even all the way dark yet.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t late.” And her son rose early, ready and eager for every day. She was more than a little grateful when she realized how well Nico had updated the place through the years. She wouldn’t have to settle for instant coffee.

She patted the top step. “Come sit with me and we’ll count the first stars.”

Andy dropped down beside her, just a little sulky with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists.

“You can’t see the stars if you’re looking at the water.”

He dutifully looked up, his lower lip poking out like a shelf. “Wow. There’s lots up there already.” Interested now, he forgot to pout.

They counted more than twenty as the sky transformed into an inky purple above the tall cypress trees. When she heard him yawn, she nudged him back inside the “swamp fort.” Leaning against the doorway, she kept her weary little man on task as he chattered through the bedtime rituals.

The little things like pajamas and brushing teeth felt so normal even in Mama Leonie’s rambling little shack. “Which one will it be tonight?” She hefted the backpack full of comics onto the narrow bed near his feet.

His eyebrows drew together as he considered. “Will you tell me more about Mama Leonie?”

Surprised, she agreed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why did she live out here all alone?”

Addison gathered her thoughts, drew hard on her memory to recall the tales. She didn’t want to scare Andy with voodoo stories, but she didn’t want to paint Leonie as anything other than the wonderful woman she’d been.

“Nico’s mama didn’t live out here alone all the time. She raised Nico and his brothers and sisters closer to town.”

Andy stared at the little room. “Because the swamp fort was too small?”

“Partly.”

“Why not just make it bigger?”

“They already had a bigger house. Maybe I’ll take you by it one day.” Addison settled on the edge of the bed while Andy squished himself and his pillow into a comfortable position. Going through the familiar motions soothed her. “But she always had this place for herself.”

“So it was her adventure place.”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose you’re right. Mama Leonie came out here to meet with people who needed things. She practiced a religion called voodoo.”

“She turned people into zombies?” Andy’s eyes went wide as saucers but with more excitement than fear. Addison hoped it would always be that way, the opportunity for discovery outweighing potential distress.

“Of course not. She was smart and kind and full of compassion for people. She was more like a doctor or therapist.”

“But voodoo has zombies.”

“Comic books have voodoo zombies.” Addison wondered if she needed to rein him in a bit. “In real life, voodoo isn’t nearly so creepy.” She walked her fingers over his foot and up his leg and tickled him behind the knee. He giggled and squirmed out of reach. “It’s complicated but interesting, and the people around her counted on Leonie like they would a doctor or therapist.” She stood and managed to kiss his forehead before he could protest. “Now get some sleep.”

“Like a zombie?”

“If it helps you grow,” she said with a laugh.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I’ll put my sleeping bag in here with you. After I take care of the dishes.”

“And your quiet time.”

That habit was one definite success in her parenting career. As soon as Andy had been old enough to understand, she’d taught him to appreciate the quiet time she needed in the evenings. “That’s right. Now quit stalling and go to sleep.”

“Did Mama Leonie ever do voodoo on you?” Andy asked before she could get out the door.

“Maybe I’ll tell you that story tomorrow night.”

“Ah, come on.”

“Stalling. Love you, bear.”

“Love you, too,” he muttered, clearly resigned to losing the battle for more of a story.

She left the door cracked, the same way she did at home. It was a small compromise for him, but an added measure of security for her under these new circumstances.

At home during quiet time she would’ve heated water for tea and pulled out some reading for work or pleasure. Here, hot tea meant lighting the wood-burning stove or the grill outside. On such a sultry evening, it didn’t feel like a good idea to fill the kitchen with more heat. And she hesitated to start a fire in the grill at this hour.

Among the supplies Nico had delivered was a jug of homemade wine. She poured some into one of the mason jars that served as drink ware and carefully sipped. The sweet, light taste was a pleasant surprise and she bravely sipped a second time.

She washed and dried the dishes, stacking them back with the others on the open corner shelves near the small table. As a youngster she’d often been entrusted with this chore and had used a chair instead of a stepstool to get the job done.

The memories flooded through her, warm and comfortable, and for a fleeting moment she could almost hear the lilting voices filling the room with chatter and laughter. There had been good times here, each of them precious to her.

The creative “architecture” in the bayous was the polar opposite of the sleek designer spaces she’d left behind, and Addison found her fondness for this little shack and rugged natural surroundings hadn’t changed. She’d learned early, from her own humble beginnings, that the value wasn’t in the furnishings of a place, but the people who filled it.

Mama Leonie and her family by blood and choice had filled this place with love, encouragement and hope. Still filled it, Addison thought as a breeze ruffled the curtains at the window over the sink. For the first time since leaving the West Coast, she felt a sliver of doubt about running here. She didn’t want to ruin the healthy vibe or cause any trouble for Nico and his family. The locals still revered this place because of all the good Leonie had done for them, but Craig wouldn’t care about any of that. If he found her, he’d have no respect for the history and simply level whatever stood between him and her.

Too bad he’d never understand the biggest gap was full of intangibles, not physical obstacles.

“Mama Leonie, if you can hear me,” Addison whispered, “I don’t want to bring you trouble. There was nowhere else to go.” Truly. Nowhere else Craig didn’t know about. She looked down, twisting the engagement ring on her finger. What a fool she’d been to share so much of her life, of herself, with a man capable of such crimes. Why hadn’t she seen through him? “I’m sorry if trouble follows me,” she murmured into the silence. “Any help you can send would be appreciated.”

She took off the ring and stuffed it in her pocket, scowling at the pale indentation left behind on her finger. The mark would fade and, with the bright days of summer, the pale line would soon fill in with healthy color. She’d taken a stand, done the right thing, and she had to trust the authorities to deal with Craig the right way. Soon.

Though her specialty was corporate law, she understood Craig and his legal defense team would make the most of every loophole available. Knowing the system too well to trust it blindly, she’d taken that final precaution and had mailed extra information on to a neutral party.

Addison paused at the cracked door, hearing Andy’s steady breathing. They were out of harm’s way. Safe. She repeated the word as she carried her glass of wine to the hammock on the back porch, screened in thanks to Nico’s hard work.

Letting the hammock swing her gently, she reviewed every detail of her discovery, her report and her escape, looking for missteps, for anything Craig might twist to his advantage.

He could drag her into it by association, but she’d never had anything to do with his dealings. Although her firm hadn’t balked at her request for six weeks off, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was unemployed. Her firm wouldn’t tolerate the bad publicity of having her name dragged through the mud because she’d been idiot enough to nearly marry a traitor. Smart women weren’t supposed to fall for the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her only saving grace was she’d found out before exchanging vows, but that wouldn’t be enough to save her job.

She tipped back more of the wine, draining the glass, considering another glass. To pour or not to pour? became the most pertinent question. She used a toe to push off and send the hammock rocking again while she made up her mind.

It was so peaceful out here, the darkness so deep and quiet. She’d loved the West Coast city life, loved the challenges and perks of a high-powered, well-paying job. Being a single parent of an active, intelligent son had ups and downs, but at the end of every day, there was unconditional love. Everything about that life, except her son, was over. Where did that leave her? Where did she want to go next?

Money wasn’t a big, immediate problem. Having been raised on next to nothing, she’d invested well and saved more through the years. Only Bernadette, as the executor of Addison’s will and potential guardian for Andy, had access to those accounts.

She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, wishing once more that there had been a way to warn Bernadette of the oncoming storm. But that kind of move would’ve been dangerous. During her relationship with Craig, she’d mentioned a few of their young and stupid antics in New Orleans, and he’d taken care of Andy six months ago when she and Bernadette had spent a girls’ weekend in Tahoe.

Did fools come any bigger than she’d been with Craig?

Rolling to her feet, Addison headed back inside with her mason jar. She’d done all she could, taken every precaution, including running here, the safest place she knew. There was nothing left to do but wait it out. She had nearly six weeks left before school started. Out here, with only Nico as a contact, surely that would be enough time for her to know how much farther she’d have to run to provide Andy with as normal a life as possible.

Walking inside, she closed the door and checked the load on the shotgun. It had felt odd in her hands at first, but after a few hours of practice, shooting at stationary targets and then moving ones, her hands and body remembered the routine.

Carrying the shotgun with her, she unrolled her sleeping bag on the kitchen side of the narrow bedroom doorway. Settling on top of the thick layers of fabric for the remainder of the night, Addison listened to the soft hum of the refrigerator. It seemed to underscore the gentle, content sounds of her son sleeping on the cot in the corner on the other side of the door.

Bugs continued whirring and chirping outside, and she heard the occasional splash from fish, frog or turtle beneath the stilted house. They were safe. Craig couldn’t find them here. If he searched anywhere, he was more likely to start with the small plot of land in Mississippi that still held her name on the title. It was on public record, which she couldn’t change now. Although he knew she’d loved visiting New Orleans, she’d never told him anything about her dirt-stained summers out here in the bayou.

Nico had promised to keep her presence here a secret as well as keep her informed of any suspicious strangers who might appear and ask questions. She had the radio, and maybe in a week or two she’d risk a trip into town to scour the internet for any warning signs and check in with Professor Hastings.

Addison discarded the idea immediately. Any contact with her friend and mentor earlier than planned would put her “insurance policy” in jeopardy. No one could know she’d sent him backup files of Craig’s treacherous dealings as well as more incriminating evidence. She thought of all the names she didn’t know on his contact lists, the lists she’d downloaded from his phone and computer before sending them anonymously to the FBI.

With any luck, they would keep that as an ace up their sleeve, the secret weapon he wouldn’t be prepared to explain away in court. Combined with what she’d sent to Professor Hastings, Craig would never be free long enough to cause trouble for her or Andy. As long as they caught him.

As she drifted off to sleep, one hand on the stock of the shotgun, she almost believed it.

Minutes or hours later, Addison woke with a start. It was tricky, listening past the blood thudding in her ears, to figure out what had startled her. The refrigerator was quiet and she heard the creak of wind in the trees.

Not the wind, she realized, as the curtains over the sink were still. She strained for another clue, telling herself it was just another overreaction to new surroundings.

This time the quiet splash of water under the house was followed immediately by the soft rasp of a boat being pulled onto the grasses that lined the shore. Damn it all to hell. Someone had found her.

Immediate worry for Nico flashed through her. Guilt pricked her conscience. Had they hurt him to get a lead on her direction? Since Leonie’s death, there had been no reason to head into this part of the swamp. Many of the locals believed she haunted the place, and they preferred to avoid even benevolent ghosts.

Addison gripped the shotgun and sat up without making a sound. It might very well be someone familiar with the shack and in need of shelter. If they’d noticed the generator was going, it made sense to stop and ask for help, but Addison prepared to shoot first and ask questions later.

For several long moments nothing more than typical night swamp sounds reached her. Maybe whoever had been in the boat just needed to sleep off a wrong turn. It happened, and hospitality was part of the odd society out here. If they stayed down there with the boat, they wouldn’t have any trouble from her.

She’d just relaxed her hold on the gun when she caught the unmistakable creaking tread of the third step in the string leading to the porch. Addison tried to breathe, telling herself Craig wouldn’t come by night and sure as hell wouldn’t come to a place so rural without vocalizing his discomfort in the process.

But that had been the Craig she’d known—thought she’d known—not the greedy bastard who’d brokered terrible deals that ended with dead US citizens.

She listened, her palms going damp as whoever was outside climbed closer to the porch. Part of her wanted to run, to grab Andy and bolt through the back, but she’d only heard one person. She could take one person.

“Addison?”

The inquiry, delivered in a low whisper, only revealed that the speaker was male. Nico would’ve announced himself already, knowing she was armed and prepared to defend herself.

So who else out here could possibly know her name?

The intruder made no secret of his approach now. He leaned close to the window. “Addison? Are you in there?”

Without a porch light, the intruder’s identity was impossible to make out, but he was nearly at the door.