The Lost Girls of Johnson's Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  “Maybe it was the other thing you suggested,” Madelaine said, not wanting to actually say the word. “Maybe he was fixated on my Ginny and it wasn’t about stealing or killing her.”

  “Perhaps. But he would have had to already have a key made, already have an ATV stashed, already have bleach ready to go. That means premeditation and stalking. And on any given night, it would have been far easier to break in and attack her in her apartment, as all the businesses on that end of the street close up at night. Why wait to follow her out here?”

  “I don’t know,” Madelaine said, her frustration hitting its peak. “You’re the sheriff. You’re supposed to be the one figuring this out. All I know is that my daughter is not crazy and she’s not a liar. If she says someone was in here and he attacked her, then you best believe it happened. I suppose you think Paul is lying along with her?”

  “No, but we have to assume Ginny was panicked when he called her. I believe he heard a shot and took a shot at someone, but likely it was poachers.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” She glared at him. “Well, you’ve got a choice—you can pretend my daughter’s crazy and sit around and wait for it to happen again. But I wouldn’t want to be wrong if I were you—especially when it comes around to election time.”

  Sheriff Blackwell drew his shoulders back and stood up straight. “If you’re implying that I’m going to do anything less than my job looking into this, you’re wrong. I’m just giving you an alternative in case I come back with nothing. I can’t create evidence, and if I don’t find anything to support Ginny’s story, that’s something the two of you are going to have to figure out how to deal with.”

  He left the kitchen and never looked back as he exited the house, closing the kitchen door behind him. Madelaine stared at the door, her mind whirling with thoughts, and none of them good. Either someone was stalking Ginny, or Ginny was imagining it all. Neither option was a good one for a mother to consider.

  She glanced down at her watch. It had been two hours since she left the medical center. If she knew Ginny, that girl had already pestered Paul into taking her home. She grabbed her purse and locked the door behind her, for whatever good it might do. She wanted Ginny to rest, but she knew better than anyone that once Ginny was rested, she’d close up like a vise. It was a low-down dirty trick to ferret information out of her daughter when she was in a weakened state, but Madelaine wasn’t above using any trick necessary to be a good mother.

  GINNY HAD JUST GOTTEN settled in bed with Paul hovering nearby, when there was a knock at her door. Paul looked at her with raised eyebrows. Ginny just waved at him to answer it. Only one person would knock on her door at 2 a.m., and that was the only other person with a key to the café.

  Madelaine gave Paul a nod as she hurried through the entry and into the bedroom to perch on the edge of Ginny’s bed. She felt her forehead, and despite the fact that Ginny hadn’t run a fever during the entire event, she allowed her mother to “mother” her for a couple of minutes. It was easier than the alternative.

  By the time Madelaine had finished replacing her flat pillows with fluffed ones, and sending Paul to fetch aspirin, a glass of water and an ice bag, she finally showed signs of ceasing the theatrics. Unfortunately, then she started the inquisition.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine. Did Sheriff Blackwell find anything?”

  Madelaine pursed her lips, and Ginny could tell that her usually relaxed mother was completely put out by the sheriff. “No. There was no ‘forced entry’—as he called it—so he has no idea how anyone got in the house. The kitchen floor had been scrubbed with bleach, and they couldn’t find any drops of blood outside.”

  “Did they follow the ATV tracks?”

  Madelaine frowned and looked down at the bed. Paul, apparently sensing that something wasn’t right, went around to the other side of the bed and sat next to Ginny and across from Madelaine. Finally, she looked back up at Ginny and said, “There were no tracks to follow.”

  Ginny’s jaw dropped. “He covered the ATV tracks? I mean, I know he had time, but why would he bother with something that can’t be traced directly back to him?”

  “Because then people won’t believe you,” Paul said, a hard edge to his voice. “Don’t you see? There’s no proof except your word that you were attacked. The sheriff is probably well on his way to suggesting that you imagined the entire thing.”

  Madelaine blew out a breath. “The darn fool already has suggested it, and got an earful from me.”

  Ginny’s jaw dropped. “Then who does he think shot at Paul?”

  “Poachers,” Madelaine said. She looked over at Paul. “You don’t seem to think much of that theory.”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t. I know I haven’t known Ginny for very long, but she certainly hasn’t struck me as someone with mental issues or a case of the dramatics. I believe it happened just as she says.”

  “Mom?” Ginny asked, unable to keep her voice from quivering just a bit. “You didn’t believe the sheriff, did you? You didn’t think—”

  Madelaine gathered Ginny in her arms in a crushing hug. “Absolutely not. You’re the sanest person I know, and I know everyone in this town. Somebody’s just got fixated on you and has been real careful to conceal it.”

  She released Ginny and gave her a stern look. “You have got to be really careful until this guy is caught. I think you ought to move back in with me.”

  “No. There’s no chance that he’ll get caught if the sheriff’s not looking for him. You’re talking about changing my life permanently because of fear.”

  Madelaine opened her mouth to argue, but Paul interrupted. “She’s right,” he said. “My best friend was a cop for a long time. If someone’s targeting Ginny, moving in with you will only put you both at risk.”

  Ginny wondered for a minute who Paul was talking about, then realized he was probably referring to himself, and still didn’t want Madelaine to know his true profession.

  “You don’t think I can protect myself?” Madelaine asked, clearly perturbed.

  “I think that whoever came after Ginny prepared well and waited for an opportunity. Now that his cover is blown and his objective is known, he may move on.”

  Ginny looked over at Paul, and he gave her a barely imperceptible shake of his head. He didn’t believe that for a second. He was only saying it to alleviate some of Madelaine’s fears.

  “And regardless of what the sheriff believes,” Paul continued, “he didn’t strike me as the type of man who would ignore the situation altogether.”

  “No,” Madelaine said. “He’ll poke into it from every side like he’s always done with any problem in Johnson’s Bayou, but I have my doubts about his ability to handle something this serious. The man hasn’t been the same since his wife, Meg, died. Do you think him poking into things, even in a cursory manner, is enough to keep someone from trying again?”

  “I think it’s enough for now,” Paul said, “but I think you should install a security system, complete with cameras, at the café and at your home. I also think that as soon as Ginny’s up to it, both of you should take a firearms course and keep protection in your home.”

  “Ha,” Madelaine scoffed. “Shows what you know. I was the parish’s skeet shooting champion three years running in my younger days, and I promise you, I haven’t lost my edge.”

  Ginny stared at her mom. “You never told me that.”

  Madelaine gave her a sheepish grin. “My daddy really wanted a son, and when I was the fifth daughter born, he improvised.”

  “Good,” Paul said. “I have a friend in the security business in New Orleans. I can get you a good price on the equipment, but it will probably take a couple of days before they can get here and install it.”

  “The café’s been doing well for years,” Madelaine said. “You get me whatever you think will keep us safe, and send me a bill. I’ve been meaning to do something for a while now, but
always managed to keep my head in the sand about the way things have changed since I was a girl.”

  Madelaine patted Ginny’s arm. “Paul and I are going to get out of here and let you get some rest. I’ve got a change of clothes here that’ll do for café work tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the couch for what’s left of the night.”

  Paul rose from the bed, taking his cue to leave. “I’ll be back when the café opens, unless you want me to come when you start working.”

  Madelaine rose from the bed and walked around to give Paul a hug. “You’re a nice, responsible young man, but you get some sleep. He won’t bother us again tonight.”

  Ginny looked up at Paul and he nodded, agreeing with Madelaine’s assessment. “Thank you,” Ginny said to Paul. “For everything. If you hadn’t come…”

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” He gave Madelaine a nod and left the apartment.

  “Back in a minute,” Madelaine said and hurried behind him to lock the café doors.

  Ginny leaned back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Things had gone from insane to impossible. She hoped that Paul would come up with a plan overnight, because at the moment, she had no idea at all what to do. The entire situation had her so far out of her element that she didn’t even recognize her life any more. Her memory, stalkers, car chases, shooters and now, Paul’s kiss.

  More than anything, Ginny just wanted to go back to the way things were before.

  PAUL SLAMMED HIS HAND on his steering wheel and cursed. If it was the last thing he ever did, he was going to catch the man who’d done this to Ginny and make him pay. He’d come into this town expecting it to yield nothing, as all his investigations concerning his sister had gone before. Instead, he’d found a link to his sister in a woman who had his emotions working in overdrive. He’d only intended to get information out of Ginny, but now he found himself drawn into her situation, her life…her, in general. And that was something he definitely hadn’t planned on.

  He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her, and from the look on her face, she couldn’t believe it, either. It had been a stupid, impulsive thing to do given everything that was happening, but at that moment, nothing short of death could have stopped him. Ginny had captured a part of him that he didn’t think had existed any longer. A part of him he’d thought he’d closed off after his last failed relationship—a failure that his refusal to give up looking for his sister had contributed to.

  But he couldn’t think about all of that right now. He had to concentrate on figuring out what happened at the LeBlanc School. There was no doubt in his mind that someone from Ginny’s past was trying to prevent her from remembering more than she already had.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed speed dial for his partner, Mike. The night owl answered on the first ring.

  “What’s wrong?” Mike asked, knowing that Paul would never call at 2 a.m. unless something was seriously off.

  Paul filled him in on the events of the night, pausing only long enough for Mike to interject a couple of questions and the occasional appreciated threat to the man who’d attacked Ginny.

  “Wow, man,” Mike said when Paul had finished relaying the night’s events. “This is out of control. I don’t know what all you’ve stepped in the middle of, but it stinks to high heaven.”

  “Got that right.”

  “You think someone followed you to New Orleans and saw you questioning people at the hospital?” his partner asked.

  “I didn’t see anyone following me, and I was keeping a close watch. Besides, he couldn’t have been following me and watching Ginny. Someone knew she was at her mother’s house tonight, and the only way he could have known that was by following them when they left the restaurant.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m parked in front of the café, and I’m not going anywhere. Madelaine is staying with Ginny tonight, but until this is all over, I’m not letting her out of my sight again. Did you get any more information on the people I asked you to check?”

  “Yeah, hold on.”

  The sound of paper rustling came through the phone.

  “Got back an interesting hit on your maintenance guy, Saul Pritchard. Every year in January, he deposits a twenty-five-thousand-dollar cashier’s check in his bank account. Goes back sixteen years. I tried to trace the checks, but it’s a no-go. Someone is clearly covering their tracks.”

  “No sign of a trust or pension that could be paying him?”

  “No way. All the family I could find is dirt-poor, and far as I can tell, he’s never worked for a company in his life. No military service, either.”

  “Sounds like a payoff, and I don’t think for a minute it’s a coincidence that he’s been receiving the checks for sixteen years.”

  “You think he knows something?”

  “Either he knows something or someone’s paid him to watch Ginny all these years.”

  “Watch her for what?”

  “In case she started to remember.” Paul blew out a breath. “What about the sheriff? He didn’t seem like he wanted to light any fires over the situation tonight. In fact, he appeared skeptical about the entire thing.”

  “Skeptical makes him a cop. And there’s nothing criminal about being lazy. Besides, if I didn’t know you, what you’re really doing there, and if I didn’t trust your judgment about Ginny, I would have a hard time swallowing all this myself. It’s kinda out there, man.”

  “You’re right. I guess I’m just angry. So I assume you didn’t find anything on the sheriff?”

  “Not much. He’s lived in Johnson’s Bayou his entire life. Got a degree in criminology at the university in New Orleans, became a deputy in the town after graduation and married his high school sweetheart, Meg.”

  “Meg? That must be who Madelaine was talking about when she said the sheriff hadn’t been the same since she died. I didn’t even think to ask at the time because of everything else going on, but sounds like Madelaine believes his job performance has gone down since her death.”

  “Could be. She died of cancer years ago. Some rare form with a name I can’t pronounce. Looks like they tried most everything to save her, but nothing stuck. They never had any kids.”

  “Finances?”

  “His bank records don’t show anything but your typical government pay. He’s got a good bit of money amassed, but the house he lives in belonged to his mother and is paid for. He doesn’t have any debt and doesn’t appear to spend much aside from normal living expenses.”

  “So he’s your typical small-town guy. What about the mayor?”

  “He’s your typical small-town politician. Married a woman with an inheritance so that he had the means to get himself into office. A real-estate trust makes regular deposits into their joint bank account every month, so I assume her family had some property they’re getting rental money or mineral rights from.”

  “He’s never tried to move up the political ladder?”

  “Not that I could find, but that’s not unusual. He probably doesn’t have what it takes to compete with the cutthroats.”

  Paul thought about the size and normal scope of Johnson’s Bayou before he’d rode into town bringing a passel of problems. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Pie-tasting events are probably more his speed.”

  “So what are you going to do next?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of facts that don’t add up to anything and a lot of missing parts that probably have the answers I need to string it all together.”

  “You’re not falling for her, are you?”

  Paul felt his pulse increase just a bit at the question. “No.”

  “You sure? Because I’ve seen a picture, and she’s not hard on the eyes.”

  “All I see is a woman in danger,” Paul lied, knowing he had already lost part of his heart to Ginny, despite every attempt not to.

  “Which just makes you want to protect her more.” His partner si
ghed. “Be careful, man. Don’t do anything that you’re going to regret when this is all over and you come back to New Orleans to your normal life.”

  “I don’t think anything after this will be normal.” He set the phone on the dashboard and slumped down in his seat. He wasn’t leaving this parking spot. If people wanted to make something of it, then they could feel free. He had no doubt in Madelaine’s ability to set them all straight.

  His mind raced through the night’s events. The killer was getting bolder but was still very careful. The way he’d covered his tracks took forethought and calm. What troubled Paul the most was the why, not the who. Why try to knock Ginny out instead of just shooting her? Why risk entering the house at all when he could have fired a single shot through the window and killed her then?

  Paul had a feeling when he found an answer to the why, the who would be revealed.

  HE PEERED AROUND THE alley at the end of the street, watching the man who sat in the truck in front of the café. The vacationer had messed up everything by rescuing Ginny. Even though his plan hadn’t gone as he’d expected, it could have been salvaged if the vacationer hadn’t shown up. He’d covered his tracks, but that was a small solace to the overall failure the night had been.

  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.