The Lost Girls of Johnson's Bayou (15 page)

They were getting too close. If the man found the other girl, she may remember, too, as he was sure Ginny was starting to do. He hadn’t taken the risks sixteen years ago or paid hush money to be exposed when he was on the verge of cashing in everything. It was a real shame the vacationer had come to Johnson’s Bayou and given credence to Ginny’s fears. If he’d just stayed away, both women may have gotten to live.

Now, he had no option.

Chapter Twelve

Patrons started lining up in front of the café ten minutes before it was due to open. Paul figured most of them had probably checked out of the hotel and were ready to enjoy one last meal of fine Southern cooking, then head back to their homes and jobs in the city. Everyone looked tired but happy, and he could see packages filling the backseats of the cars parked around him. Everyone else who’d visited Johnson’s Bayou this week had enjoyed their stay.

Paul had been the harbinger of trouble.

Ginny opened the café a little early, but Paul waited until the sidewalk cleared before making his way inside. He took a seat at the end of the counter, away from the other patrons, but knew that before long, the entire place would fill up. There wasn’t going to be much chance to talk to Ginny during work hours, but he at least wanted to see how she was doing after last night.

She rushed to deliver coffee and take the initial orders, but managed to give him a brief smile. Finally, the early birds were settled and she made her way over to where he sat. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine, physically. Just a little bit of a headache, and I have a knot.”

“And other than physically?”

“Worried. Confused. Scared. And I really hate to admit the last one.”

“Don’t be. I’m not exactly comfortable myself, and this is my job.”

Ginny gave him a sympathetic look. “But this is personal.”

He felt a tingle in his stomach at her words, then realized she was referring to his search for his sister and not her. “Yeah, that makes it harder. That and knowing I made things worse for you.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Whatever happened back then, the lid was bound to come off sooner or later, and I was already headed down that path.”

“I know, but reality doesn’t make me feel any better about this.” He took a sip of coffee and tried to clear his mind and organize his thoughts for the day. “What time does the café close?”

“We’re closing early today. We usually take a couple days off after the festival. After we close today, we’re going to take down the valances. Mom’s having new ones made. Painting starts tomorrow. What are you doing today?”

“Not letting you out of my sight, for one. I want to catch this guy, and if he’s watching you then I may catch him.”

“You’re going to sit here all day?”

“I promise to tip well.”

Ginny smiled. “And after we close? Are you going to work on valances with me and mom?”

“Maybe, as soon as someone explains exactly what they are.”

A bell sounded from the counter between the kitchen and the café, and Madelaine slid plates of steaming food up for delivery. “You work on figuring that out. I’ll be back.” Ginny hustled over to the counter and started delivering the food as more customers started trickling into the café.

Paul reached for an order pad and pen that sat on the end of the counter. He needed to make some notes on everything. Sometimes writing it all down helped bring it together. But before he started, his cell phone vibrated. His partner.

“It must be important if you’re up this early,” Paul said when he answered.

“What makes you think I’ve been to bed yet?”

“Touché. I’ll rephrase. It must be important if you’re calling me this early instead of going to bed.”

“It is. Are you somewhere that you can listen? And you might want to be sitting down for this one.”

Paul straightened up on the stool at his partner’s serious tone. “I’m good. What’s up?”

“I got a call from the lab early this morning. They found fingerprints on that book from the LeBlanc School that matched your sister’s logged in the foster care system.”

Paul felt a wave of dizziness pass over him. He’d hoped…even almost expected this outcome, but it was still overwhelming. He was close—closer than he’d ever been before to figuring out what happened to his sister, and for some reason, he felt certain the girl from the hospital held the answers he sought. He had to find her, although he had no other leads to that end.

“Paul?” Mike’s voice sounded over the phone, reminding him that he was on a call.

“Sorry. I spaced out there for a minute. The lab is certain?”

“Absolutely. This is a huge break.”

“I know, but I’m at a dead end on finding the other girl.”

His partner blew out a breath. “Maybe not. I’ve got a college buddy who’s an attorney. Let me give him a call later this morning and see what it would take to get information out of the hospital.”

“I don’t think the fingerprints are enough to convince a judge to violate someone’s civil rights.”

“Let me try. I’ll call as soon as I know, either way.”

“Thanks.” Paul placed the phone on the counter and stared into his coffee.

“Are you all right?” Ginny’s voice sounded in front of him.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He leaned forward and said in a lowered voice, “My partner just called. The fingerprints on the book match my sister’s.”

Ginny covered her mouth with her hand and stared at him for a couple of seconds, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe—I mean, I knew it was possible, maybe even probable, but there’s still that voice in the back of your head that tells you that it could be something completely different.” Ginny lowered her hand and shook her head. “I’m sorry. That didn’t make any sense at all.”

“It made perfect sense to me. I’m feeling the same way.”

“So what do you do now?”

Paul shook his head. “I have no idea. My partner’s going to talk to a lawyer about getting access to the medical records for the girl who went to the hospital that night, but I don’t think we have enough to compel a judge to issue a court order.”

“You think this other girl has the answers?”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I’m right at the edge, but with nothing left to create the tipping point.”

Ginny didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. She knew all too well the position he was in—on the verge of discovery, but without any indication which direction to turn. She refilled his coffee and gave him an encouraging smile before rushing off to take care of the other patrons.

Paul picked up the pen and began to jot down the events from the past couple of days. Something would come to him, he tried to tell himself. It always did, and it would this time.

G
INNY LOCKED THE CAFÉ DOOR behind the last of the breakfast crowd, looked at the messy café and sighed. Madelaine came through the kitchen door and plopped onto a stool at the counter, looking as exhausted as she felt.

“I know we should start cleaning up,” Madelaine said, “but I just have to sit for a minute and catch my breath. I don’t think we’ve been that busy in years.”

Ginny plopped onto a stool next to her. “We were this busy yesterday and the day before. We just weren’t this tired.”

Paul jumped up from his stool at the end of the counter and made his way over to where they sat. “Why don’t you two take a break? I’ll start cleanup.”

Before Ginny found the strength to protest, he’d already stepped behind the counter and grabbed one of the plastic tubs used to collect dirty dishes. Madelaine looked over at Ginny and raised one eyebrow as Paul went to the first table and started stacking dishes in the tub.

“He may be a keeper,” Madelaine said.

Ginny frowned. “Paul, you don’t have to help. The dishes aren’t going anywhere.”

He looked over at them and smiled. “And neither are you two. I’ve sat at that counter drinking coffee for over four hours now, watching the two of you run ragged. Take a breather.”

“No one likes a martyr,” Madelaine said and elbowed Ginny in the side. “Besides, he probably drank ten dollars’ worth of coffee sitting there.”

Paul grinned and hauled the first tub through the kitchen doors. Madelaine looked over at Ginny and smiled. “He’s a nice young man,” she said. “It’s clear that he’s worried about you and that he cares about people in general. Being a man, he’s probably feeling like he should be doing something about last night.”

“That’s the sheriff’s job,” Ginny said.

Madelaine nodded. “Yep, but Paul’s still a man. And men don’t like feeling they didn’t protect their lady.”

“I’m not his lady. I just met him.”

Madelaine patted her leg. “I know, but I can see he feels bad. If picking up a few dirty dishes makes him feel better, then what’s the harm?”

Ginny didn’t bother to argue, as she knew all too well that Madelaine was right—Paul did feel guilty. Madelaine just wasn’t aware of the real reason why. And besides, it sort of amused her that her electively single mother was giving her advice on what men needed.

They sat in silence for a minute, and Ginny stared out the café window, letting the tension in her neck and back unwind. Then Paul came through the kitchen door carrying two glasses of tea that he placed on the counter in front of them before beginning to bus another table.

“You reading minds back there?” Madelaine asked. “I was just thinking it is hot as heck in here.”

Ginny looked over at her mother. It wasn’t cold in the café, but Ginny would hardly call it hot. She felt her pulse quicken when she saw the red tint on Madelaine’s face. “Mom, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” Madelaine said, but her hand shook as she lifted her glass of tea. “I’m sure it’s just my blood pressure. It will be fine once I rest a spell.”

“You forgot to bring your medicine with you last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but stop fussing. You’re the one that ought to be fussed over.”

Paul brushed against Ginny’s arm before she realized he sidled up next to her. “You need to be careful with blood pressure,” Paul said. “Why don’t I drive out to your house and get your medicine?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Madelaine replied.

“It’s no bother, and I know Ginny would feel better about you messing with curtains this afternoon if you’d had your medicine.” He glanced over at Ginny and she shot him a grateful look before nodding.

“Please let Paul get your medicine. It won’t take him long, and you can rest in the meantime. I can get the rest of the tables. There’s only a couple.”

“And I already loaded everything in the dishwasher,” Paul said.

“Fine,” Madelaine said. “It takes more energy than I care to spend to tell you two no.” She retrieved her keys from her apron pocket and removed her house key. “My medicine bottle’s right next to the kitchen sink. It’s the only one there.”

Paul slipped the key in his pocket. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t let anyone in until I return.”

He exited the café but waited next to the front door before Ginny turned the dead bolt behind him. Since she was already standing, Ginny slid the last couple of dishes into the tub and carted them to the kitchen. She was surprised to see that Paul had loaded not only the dishes from the front of the café but also the kitchen dishes into the dishwasher.

She smiled at the clean surfaces and tried to ignore that little trickle of warmth that moved through her every time she allowed her thoughts to dwell on him. But it was hard not to dwell. He was a man of values, principles and responsibility. And Lord help her, he was physically impossible to ignore. Ginny had been with men in the past, but not many, and never had she felt the tingling sensation on her skin the way she did when Paul was near.

Even her mother found him impossible to say no to. If anyone else had insisted she sit on a stool while they cleaned her kitchen, Madelaine would have thrown them out on their ear. Apparently Paul’s charm worked on her mother as well as it worked on her.

She sighed and opened the dishwasher to load the remaining dishes. None of that meant a thing because when this was all over, Paul would go back to his job in the city and Ginny would remain in Johnson’s Bayou, perhaps a little more enlightened about her past, but still alone.

F
IVE MINUTES LATER, Ginny removed the valance from a curtain rod and coughed as dust flew up in her face. “How long has it been since we shook these out?” She handed the dusty material to her mother, who was still resting at the counter, then removed another set.

“Months,” Madelaine replied, “but looks like they took on some dust when Saul replaced the counter.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that.”

“Hmmmpf. Don’t know how. Darn man in here every day for a week banging on that wood and stone, driving customers crazy with the noise and me even crazier with his complete dedication to doing everything as slowly as possible.”

Ginny smiled. Even at sixty, her mother still operated on only two modes—off and on. She made normal people appear lazy. “He’s slow and ornery, but he does nice work.”

“That’s a fact,” Madelaine agreed. “And a darned good thing, or no one would hire him.”

Ginny laid the valance on the stone counter and admired the cut pieces, all neatly fit into a beautiful array of size and color, and suddenly, a thought hit her. “Mom, when Saul was working, did he have a key to the café?”

“Of course. I wasn’t going to sit here until all hours with the man every night. Noise was so bad you moved back in with me for a stretch, in case you don’t remember. Not that it mattered—isn’t anything to steal here that’s expensive unless you want some commercial cooking equipment. Besides, only thing that came up missing while he was working was lemon chess pie, even though he still swears he didn’t eat it.”

Ginny nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. “I’m going to grab a soda. Do you want anything?”

“A little more iced tea would be nice.”

Ginny walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen and went straight for her mother’s desk in the corner. She glanced back at the swinging doors before pulling open the desk drawer. In a plastic container in the back corner of the drawer, she found what she was looking for and dumped the keys into the palm of her hand. It took only a glance for her to know that one of them was the key to her apartment and another a key to Madelaine’s house.