by Jana DeLeon
“Of course not.” Madelaine shook her head. “That was a horrible, horrible thing to happen to a young boy.” She stopped kneading the dough and looked directly at Ginny. “I promise you that if I ever have any idea how we can find something out about your past, I’ll tell you. If you want, we could hire a detective and have him look into it. There’s not much to go on, but I have some savings—”
Ginny sniffed, touched as always by the size of her mother’s heart. “No. I’m fine, I promise. If I’m meant to find out about the past, I will.”
“You sure?” Her mother didn’t look convinced.
“I’m positive,” Ginny said. She walked over to her mother and gave her a hug. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best mom ever?”
Madelaine gave her a squeeze. “Tell me that when I’ve got you measuring those windows for new curtains.”
Ginny laughed as the tension between her and Madelaine dissipated. She was going to have to be very careful. Not only was Johnson’s Bayou a small town full of bored, nosy people, but Madelaine was very perceptive and could easily read people.
Most especially Ginny.
A thought flashed through Ginny’s mind and she remembered the blue gingham fabric that she’d found in the nightstand in the girls’ home. “Mom, where did you get those old curtains, anyway? We’ve never had napkins to match, although you’ve always talked about it.”
Madelaine didn’t answer for a moment, and Ginny already knew what she was going to say before the words came out. “I bought them from the girls at that school,” Madelaine said, her expression sad. “Some of them were quite good at sewing, and they sold stuff to some people in town for spending money—usually to buy a root beer float at the general store. They were supposed to do the napkins, when…”
Madelaine reached into a canister of flour and spread a bit more on her dough. “I just didn’t have the heart to get someone else to finish the work after.”
PAUL SAT IN HIS TRUCK down the street from the café on a dimly lit side street counting the minutes until 6:00 a.m. He’d tossed and turned all night on the couch, worried about too many unknowns, and knew that he needed a strong cup of coffee to get his mind back in gear—possibly an entire pot to keep it there. He scrunched down in the cab as a car turned onto Main Street and passed. If someone noticed him sitting in the truck at this hour, it might raise questions.
As he straightened back into an upright position, he glanced at the floorboard and caught a glimpse of something on the passenger’s side. The book! He’d completely forgotten that Ginny had left the book in his truck. He leaned over and picked it up from the floorboard and began to flip through the pages. He froze when he got to the page with the drawing.
Ginny was right. It was the exact same design, drawn in pencil on the page of the book.
He went back to the front of the book and turned each page slowly, scanning every square inch for any other markings, anything to indicate the book’s reader, but the rest of the book was blank. Still, it was a valuable find. It was the closest he’d come to a clue about his sister in all the years he’d searched.
The sun tipped over the horizon and a warm glow began to light the quaint downtown area. The door to the hotel opened, and two couples walked out and across the road to the café. Paul glanced at his watch and was relieved to see it was almost six. He needed to take a trip to New Orleans to investigate a lead on the girl who was taken to the hospital, but he had to talk to Ginny first.
He started his truck and pulled onto Main Street then parked in front of the café. Ginny was already hustling coffee to the couples who’d entered before him, but she gave him a shy smile as he slid into a booth in the back of the café away from the other patrons. She passed menus to the couples, then looked at him and pointed to the coffeepot on the bar. He nodded and she poured a cup and made her way over.
“Was the book still there?” she asked anxiously as she placed his coffee on the table.
“Yes, and I found the drawings.”
Ginny’s relief was obvious. “Are you going to try and get fingerprints?”
“Yeah. I need to make a trip to New Orleans today. I’ll drop the book off with my partner for him to handle.”
Ginny frowned. “Does your trip have anything to do with me? No secrets, remember?”
“Not with you directly. My partner found a lead on the one girl who made it out of the school alive but it went cold after the hospital in New Orleans. I’m going to try to track down some of the hospital employees from back then and see if they can give me anything else.”
“Do you think she might be your sister?”
“Maybe, but it’s a slim possibility that she’d be the only one to make it out of the house that night. And I don’t even know if that girl is still alive, but I have to try.”
“Of course.”
“I will be back tonight. In the meantime, I want you to make sure you’re not alone. The festival will take care of most of the day, but if I haven’t made it back here before it’s over, I don’t want you staying in your apartment by yourself. Have dinner with your mother, preferably in a public place.”
Ginny bit her lower lip. “You think he’ll come after me again?”
“I don’t want to take the chance.”
Ginny glanced back at the kitchen door. “Is my mom in any danger?”
“I don’t think so. As long as you don’t tell her anything, her behavior will be the same as always. The shooter will be watching her for a change, just like he did you. When he doesn’t see one in Madelaine, he’ll assume you’re keeping secrets, at least for now.”
Ginny’s worried expression relaxed a bit. She tore a piece of paper off her order tab and wrote a number on it. “This is my cell phone. Call or text when you have an idea what time you’ll be back. That way I’ll know how long to stall.”
Paul folded the paper and slipped it into his wallet. Before Ginny could walk away, he placed his hand on her arm. “Be careful, Ginny. Pay attention to everything around you if you can, but try not to look worried. Whoever chased us last night will be watching you. You may be able to catch him at it.”
PAUL CAUGHT THE HEAD NURSE just as she was leaving the hospital. He’d spent the past four hours combing the place for anyone who worked at the hospital when the girl was a resident, and so far this was the only person he’d managed to find. The nurse stopped in the middle of the parking lot when he called her name, but judging by the look on her face, she was not thrilled with the interruption.
“I just pulled a double,” she said. “Unless someone’s dying, I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I don’t work at the hospital,” Paul said. “And I promise I won’t take up much of your time. I’m trying to locate a patient you may have cared for.”
“Patient records are confidential.”
“I know, but I’m not asking about her medical condition.”
The nurse frowned. “How do you know I took care of this patient?”
“I don’t, but you’re the only nurse left that worked here sixteen years ago.”
Her eyes widened. “Sixteen years. Heavens, I can’t remember who I cared for last week. Do you know how many people come through the ICU?”
“A lot, I’m sure, but this one was a little girl, about ten years old. She was pulled from a fire at a school in Johnson’s Bayou.”
The nurse stared over Paul’s shoulder, her brow scrunched in concentration. “I think I remember something about that. No identification, right? And no one came to claim her?”
“Yes! That’s the one. Did you care for her?”
“No. I didn’t work the ICU then, but I remember another nurse talking about it in the break room. It was such a sad story, I guess it stuck with me.” She narrowed her eyes at Paul. “What’s your interest in this? She looking to sue after all these years? Everyone who doesn’t want to work is looking to sue.”
“Nothing like that.” Paul raised one hand as the nurse gave him a ske
ptical look. “I swear. I’m not a lawyer and don’t even like them much.”
“Then what’s your interest?”
“I…I think she may be my sister. Our parents died and we were separated by the foster care system. Then she disappeared. I’ve looked for her all these years, and this is the best lead I have…”
“Oh, my.” The nurse’s expression became instantly sympathetic. “But you don’t have any evidence to get a court order for the records, right?”
“No.”
She stared at Paul for a couple of seconds, and he could tell some sort of mental war was going on inside of her. Finally, she pulled a slip of paper from her purse and wrote a name on it. “That was the nurse I heard talking in the break room. She retired several years ago, but if she’s alive, she may be able to tell you something.”
Paul curled his hand around the paper. “Thank you! You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
The nurse nodded and gave him a quick hug. “I hope you find your sister.”
It took his partner an agonizing thirty minutes to find an address for the name the nurse had given him, and he was further dismayed to find that the woman no longer lived in the New Orleans area but had retired to a small community about two hours away. He checked his watch and was surprised to realize it was already two o’clock in the afternoon and he’d completely skipped lunch.
As he stared out the windshield of his car, a silent debate ran in his mind. If he visited the woman today, he wouldn’t get back to Johnson’s Bayou until nighttime. He wasn’t as concerned about Ginny during the day at the café and the festival, but he worried about her at night. But if the woman had answers…
Finally, he pressed Ginny’s cell phone number into his phone. She answered after a couple of rings and he could hear the noise from the festival in the background.
“How’s it going there?” he asked.
“It’s busy. I’m almost sold out of my jewelry.”
“Have you noticed anything suspicious?”
“No, and I’ve been watching. I mean, not obviously so, but I’ve been on alert. I haven’t seen anyone paying attention to me except for buyers.”
“Any locals stop by and ask you questions?”
Ginny laughed. “Every local stopped by and they all asked questions, but nothing outside of the norm, given that everyone seems to know I had dinner with a handsome stranger last night. What about you? Did you have any luck tracking down the other girl?”
“I have a lead on a nurse who might have cared for the girl when she was in ICU.”
“Oh, that’s really good!”
“Yeah, the only problem is, she retired to a small town about two hours from New Orleans. If I go there today, I won’t make it back to Johnson’s Bayou until tonight. I don’t want you alone, especially after dark.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll have dinner in town with my mom, and if you’re still not back by the time we finish, I’ll go visit her at her house for a while. She’s been harping on me to help her hang some pictures for weeks now.”
It sounded perfect, but Paul still felt that niggle of fear in the pit of his stomach. “Promise me that if your mother can’t do dinner or contracts malaria and doesn’t want to hang the pictures that you won’t stay at your apartment by yourself.”
“I promise, but it’s pointless. Madelaine would have dinner and hang those pictures even if she had one foot in the grave. You don’t know her well.”
“Okay. Keep watch and make note of anything odd. I’ll call you as soon as I’m leaving the nurse’s house so that you know what time to expect me back in Johnson’s Bayou.”
He made the drive in a little under two hours, but it felt like ten. He spent the time alternating between wondering if the woman would have the answers he’d been looking for and worrying about leaving Ginny alone. By the time he pulled up in front of her house, he had to take a minute to regain control of his emotions.
Finally, he stepped out of his car and approached the house, praying that she was home. His partner had been unsuccessful locating a home or cell number, so he hadn’t been able to call ahead. It would be just his luck if the woman was on a monthlong tour of Europe. He rang the doorbell, and his pulse quickened when a dog began to bark inside. A couple of seconds later, an older, Creole woman opened the door.
“Mrs. LeDoux?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“My name is Paul Stanton and I was hoping you would talk to me about a patient you may have cared for sixteen years ago at New Orleans General.”
The woman frowned. “I don’t talk about patients. That wouldn’t be right.”
“I understand, but in this case, you may change your mind.” Paul explained briefly why he was looking for his sister and why he felt she may be able to help him.
“I remember the case. It was so sad. Probably why it’s stuck in my mind.” She opened the door and waved him inside. “Might as well come in before my tea gets cold.”
Paul stepped inside and followed the woman into the kitchen, where she served them both a cup of hot tea. “Thank you for talking to me,” Paul said as he took a sip of tea. “I’ve been looking for so long, and even though it’s a long shot, I have to follow this to the end, just to be sure.”
“Certainly. I remember the night they brought the girl into the hospital. Came by helicopter, which always signals something dire. She was such a pretty little thing.”
“Can you tell me what she looked like?”
“She was a white girl—wavy brown hair, brown eyes, maybe ten years old. Skinny, but not malnourished. Just one of those active builds, I guess you’d call it.”
Paul nodded. The description fit his sister perfectly. And probably a million other kids, but at least it wasn’t the end of the line for him yet. “How badly was she injured?”
“At first, she was in and out of consciousness, but the pain finally won out and her body gave up. She slipped into a coma and stayed that way for almost a year. The doctors had no idea why, as her injuries had long since healed and all her vital signs appeared normal. She just wouldn’t wake up.”
“But she finally did?”
“It was the strangest thing ever. One day, she just sat up in bed and rang the nurse to ask for an ice-cream cone, of all things.”
Paul’s pulse quickened. His sister’s favorite treat was an ice-cream cone. “Did she remember anything?”
“Not a thing. The police had been so hopeful when she awakened, but it’s like her life before waking up in the hospital had been scrubbed clean out of her mind.”
“So what happened to her after that?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m not sure, really. They moved her to a room in the regular wing, which wasn’t my area. I know she did physical therapy for a while because of the lack of use of her muscles, but I don’t know what happened to her after that. I suppose given that no one came to claim her, and since she didn’t know who she was, that she was placed with a family.”
Paul tried to control his disappointment, but he was certain it showed on his face.
She sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t help you any more than that.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he reassured her. “At least I know she left the hospital alive. That gives me hope that if it is my sister, she’s still alive today. It could have been the end of the line.”
“I suppose you’re right, but it seems like small comfort.”
Paul rose from the table and thanked the woman for her time. As he walked out the door, he found himself thinking that he couldn’t agree more. It was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
THE NURSE WATCHED PAUL through the slats in the window blinds as he got into his car and pulled away. When the man had first approached her years ago, she’d thought him a bit suspicious-minded. He’d told her the real story behind the girl’s past—that she’d been placed in the school by the foster care system to hide her from an abusive father. The man figured if she didn’t remember, that was f
or the best. Then there was no way her father could find her. As the years went by, no one ever asked about the girl, but he continued to make the annual payments. Finally she decided it was full-blown paranoia, but if the man wanted to waste money that way, she wasn’t going to tell him anything different. After all, she’d kept her end of the bargain.
And now, after all the years, the visit the man had been expecting had occurred.
It took her a while to find the man’s phone number, buried deep in her desk behind years of paperwork, but finally she located the yellowed piece of paper. She pulled out the prepaid cell phone—the only form of communication she bothered to keep these days—and dialed. He answered immediately.
“It’s Nurse Agnes,” she said, using the name they’d agreed on long ago.
“Has something happened?” The anxiety in the man’s voice was apparent.
“A man came to visit me asking about the girl. Claimed he was looking for his sister, as they were separated as kids by the foster care system. It was a good story and he delivered it well. If you hadn’t warned me someone might come asking, I would have believed his story.”
“You didn’t tell him anything?”
“Only what we agreed upon.” She hesitated for a moment, a question hovering on the tip of her tongue. It was none of her business and the man wouldn’t like her asking, but something inside her had to know. “You’re going to keep her safe, right?”
Her query was met with complete silence.
“Look,” she said, “I know you don’t give details, and that’s fine. I just want to know that you’re not going to allow her abuser to find her. He probably hired that man. I want to know that she’s safe.”
“She’s safe.”
The man disconnected the call and the nurse placed her cell phone on the desk. The man had promised he’d protect the girl. He’d paid her all these years to keep her hidden from the man who’d abused her—her own father.
But something didn’t feel right.
A flash of Paul’s face as he told her his story passed through her mind. He was so earnest, so passionate and seemed so sincere. Had she really grown so old and unaware that he’d charmed her into believing his story?
