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The urge to cry came over her then, but Maddie fiercely fought it back. She'd sworn off crying at the same time she'd sworn off studly men. She was stronger now. She'd survive this.
But as she returned to the kitchen to gather her purse and her pet, despite her best intentions, a pair of big, fat tears overflowed her eyes and slid slowly down her cheeks.
She swayed on her feet, overcome with exhaustion and emotion and the effects of half a bottle of dark ale. Then, channeling her inner Goldilocks, she chose a stateroom, kicked off her sneakers, found an out-of-the-way spot on the floor for Oscar, and crawled into a queen-sized bed.
* * *
Luke Callahan set the plastic bottle of mustard on the ship store counter and said, "That ought to do it."
Perched like a heron atop a three-legged stool behind the counter, Marie Gauthier sighed heavily, her frown deepening the lines in skin tanned dark and leathery. "Ah, it be a sad day,cher,"she said, ringing up his purchases. "Me, I'll be missing that old coot. I thought the service was fine and fitting."
Luke nodded and cleared his throat. “Terry liked a good party."
"Mais yeah."Marie neatly stacked Luke's groceries in a brown paper bag. "That man, he loved afais do-do,and he loved the bayou. It's the right place for his ashes to rest."
Luke agreed. Spreading Terry Winston's ashes was the single part of this god-awful day that had felt right.
"And now, what about you,mon ami?My man, he say you're taking theMiss Behavin' IIaway from Caddo Bayou. Are you leaving us for good? The ladies here, they will be brokenhearted."
"I'll be back." Luke lifted the grocery bag into his arms and offered her the first genuine smile he'd managed in a month. "I'm going fishing for a few weeks. One of my brothers just bought a new thirty-foot Grady-White. I'm meeting him in Lake Charles and we're heading out toward the Keys."
"An extended fishing trip?Mon Dieu.My man, he be pea green with envy when he hears that. So, it's true, then? You're trading in your gun and badge for a fishing pole and bait?"
Luke's smile slowly died as the sick sensation in his stomach returned. He'd broken the rules when he went after Terry's killer. He'd resigned before they could fire him.
"Beyond fishing for my supper for the next few weeks, I'm not sure what I'm going to do."
Marie Gauthier reached across the counter and gave Luke's arm a comforting pat. "Ah, it's none of my business, anyway. My Pierre, he always tells me I'm anosy old woman. You take your time,mon ami.These are grievous wounds you've suffered. The bullets, they are bad enough, but losing your partner... That Terry, he was like a father to you. You give yourself time to heal, Luke. You come back to us when you're whole again."
When he was whole again.Yeah, right.
Luke tried to put the old woman's words out of his mind as he exited the store and made his way across the parking lot toward the wooden pier and theMiss Behavin' II.The day had been a killer, and he was anxious to put it behind him. He wasn't scheduled to meet Matt for two more days, but after the strain of Terry's send-off, Luke wanted some downtime, some time alone. Time to decompress.
The months of constant danger during the undercover assignment in Florida had worn him down. Saying good-bye to Terry Winston had nearly killed him.
He'd held up all right in the heat of the moment. The gunfight in the Miami warehouse, stealing the car, the mad race to the ER while trying to staunch Terry's wounds and his own. He'd even managed when, after fighting for weeks in the hospital, Terry had squeezed Luke's hand, and died.
It was the aftermath that did him in. The reality that Luke's mistake had gotten his partner and friend killed was a devastating burden to bear. He'd gone a little crazy bringing the killers to justice. It cost him his job, but he didn't regret it.
What he regretted was losing control of himself last night when Terry's friends set out to honor his memory in a way the man would have appreciated. Terry's farewell had started at sunset with a party the likes Caddo Bayou hadn't seen in years. Lots of food and drink, music and dancing.
Luke had kept it together until the band played a rendition of Jimmy Buffett's "Lovely Cruise." At that point, he'd sat down on a bench and bawled like a baby.
He'd hit the booze hard after that in a misguided attempt to dull the pain, and the rest of the night remained fuzzy in his memory. The festivities had continued past dawn, culminating in this morning's church service and the trip into the swamp to spread Terry's ashes. The remnants of a hangover still throbbed in Luke's head and the lack of sleep dulled his thinking.
A dog's bark jerked Luke back to the present, and his mouth twisted in a hint of a grin as the stray mutt who'd adopted him during the past week came bounding toward him from the woods where he'd been off exploring. A mix of golden retriever, boxer, and who-knew-what-else, the dog must have been dumped on the highway by an uncaring owner. The mutt had made his way to the marina the same day Luke returned to Caddo Bayou.
Luke had tossed the dog a bite of his burger, and from that moment on, the mutt considered himself Luke's. Luke took longer to come around to the idea, but finally, last night, he'd sealed the deal by giving the dog a name.
"Whoa, there, Knucklehead," Luke said as the dog went up on his hind legs, planted his front paws on Luke's shirt, and licked his face. Luke pushed the mutt off him, saying, "The slobber factor is getting out of hand. If you're going on this trip with me, you're gonna have to get some control."
His tail wagged, his tongue dangled out one side of his mouth, and he looked so stupidly friendly that Luke let out a laugh. He reached down and scratched the pooch behind the ears before continuing toward theMiss Behavin' II.The dog bounded aboard ahead of Luke, then waited at the door for Luke to let him inside. Like a flash, he disappeared toward the starboard stateroom where he'd claimed the queen-sized bed for his own.
As Luke stowed the last of his supplies for the upcoming fishing trip, he wondered why he'd been a sucker for the mangy hound. He hadn't had a pet in seventeen years. A man in Luke's business had no business owning a dog. Since his job was eighty-five percent travel, he couldn't properly care for a pet.
"Well, that's not a problem anymore, is it?" Luke slammed the cabinet shut with more force than necessary. He didn't want to think about the job. He didn't want to think about what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life. He hadn't felt this lost since the day his father booted his butt out of Brazos Bend.
Well, he didn't have to think about any of that now. For the next three weeks, he'd think of nothing more serious than which bait to attach to his line. Old Marie Gauthier was right. He needed time. He'd give himself time. That's exactly what Terry would have told him to do.
Up at the flybridge helm, Luke fired up the twin Mercruiser stern drive engines, then he struck the lines and pulled away from the Caddo Bayou Marina, headed on a southerly course. He knew his way without consulting a map. He and Terry had made this trip dozens of times over the years, first with the smallerMiss Behavin' I,then after their dot-com windfall, aboard this boat. This was the first time Luke had made it alone.
Well, alone but for a mutt named Knucklehead.
Luke cruised for hours before the lack of sleep caught up with him. After guiding the boat into a protected inlet, he sank the anchors, then sought his bed. The hum of the air conditioner drowned out the songs of Mississippi kites and cardinals drifting on the air, and Luke Callahan drifted off to sleep.
He dreamed of a bikini-clad redhead playing topless beach volleyball and awoke to a bloodcurdling scream.
