jewelry and want to stock it.”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed. It’s doing well at Sarah’s shop, but I’d love to have more distribution.”
Madelaine opened her mouth to reply, but the dinging of the bell on the front door stopped her. She motioned to Ginny, who was already rising from her chair. “You take a break for a minute. I’ll get the order. You can deliver the food.”
Ginny sank back down, grateful for the reprieve, no matter how slight. A couple of minutes later, Madelaine hustled back into the kitchen, scooped a huge cinnamon roll onto a plate and handed it to Ginny.
“That’s it?”
“No. He wants an omelet but asked to have this out first. And he’ll likely need a coffee refill, the way he was downing the first cup.”
“Who is it?” Ginny asked as she started toward the kitchen door.
Madelaine shrugged as she cracked eggs on the skillet. “Probably here for the festival.”
This early? The thought flashed through Ginny’s mind and just as quickly, a second thought hit her and she sucked in a breath. Surely not.
She pushed open the kitchen door just enough to scan the café without being seen. It was empty except for one booth on the far end from the door occupied by the man who, unfortunately, had his back to Ginny. You’re being foolish. What are the odds?
She pushed the door completely open and stepped into the café. She was only a couple of feet from the man’s table when he turned slightly to look up at her.
It was him. The man from the swamp.
Her heart rate spiked and she dropped her gaze to her hands, clutching the plate so hard, she thought it would snap. It took every ounce of control for her to set the plate in front of him. She forced herself to raise her head and meet his gaze, and she was surprised to notice he seemed out of sorts as well. He was older than she’d originally thought, maybe early thirties, but then her eyes had been on his gun last night and not him. His dark brown hair was a little long and lay in natural waves. Green eyes studied her as she reached for the coffeepot on the counter station and refilled his empty cup.
“Your omelet will be ready in a couple of minutes,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
He shook his head, but Ginny got the impression there was something he wanted to say but didn’t. She took that as her cue to exit, but as she turned to walk away, he grabbed her arm. She looked down at his hand, wrapped around her wrist, and wondered why this man made her feel so nervous, so off-balance.
“I probably owe you an apology,” he said and drew his hand back from her arm. “I didn’t mean to scare you last night, but you surprised me. I didn’t expect to find anyone out in the swamp at that time of night.”
“Neither did I.”
He gave her an uneasy chuckle. “Yeah, I guess not. So anyway, sorry I grabbed you.”
“It’s okay.” Ginny was more than ready to end the uncomfortable conversation, but she took a breath then blurted out, “Did you find the child?”
He stared at her for a moment, the indecision in his eyes apparent. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I looked around, but I didn’t see any trace that someone else had been near the house, and I didn’t hear anything.”
She bit her lower lip, knowing she should just return to the kitchen and forget she’d ever been traipsing around the swamp. “Nothing at all?”
“I’m sorry,” he said and gave her a sympathetic look.
She gave him a brief nod and walked back toward the kitchen. Great, now he thinks I’m crazy and feels sorry for me.
Hell, who was she kidding? Despite her certainty last night, maybe she was crazy. There hadn’t been so much as a whisper about a missing child in the café all morning, and that kind of story would have been huge news in Johnson’s Bayou. Maybe she’d imagined the scream. That’s what she got for letting something build for so long without addressing it. She should have stalked straight to that house the first time her mind latched on it. Instead, she’d put it off for so long that her imagination had run wild.
Before she slipped into the kitchen, she glanced back at the man. She noticed he hadn’t bothered to explain what he’d been doing in the swamp at night, and she hadn’t wanted to ask. But she wondered. Now, he sat at an angle in the booth, talking on his cell phone, and from the look on his face, he didn’t like what he’d just heard.
Chapter Three
Paul gripped the phone, anxious for the information Mike, his partner at their New Orleans detective agency, was about to provide. “You’ve found something?”
“I may have a line on something, but I can’t be positive. The information on that case is so sketchy.”
“You thinking cover-up?”
“Not necessarily. It may have just been a case of inexperienced cops with a situation far beyond what they were qualified to handle. The whole thing is pretty weird. I mean, all those kids dying but no one coming to claim them. It reeks all the way around, Paul.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s an avenue I have to check. So what did you find?”
“One student survived, for sure, but the bodies of one other student and the headmistress were never recovered. Then this is where it gets weird. The day after the fire, a girl walked out of the swamp and into town, but no one could identify her as a student. No one in the town, even the locals who worked at the home, had ever laid eyes on her.”
“Well, who did she say she was?”
“She didn’t know. Total amnesia.”
“Great. The best witness I might have and she doesn’t remember anything. Any idea where the girls are now?”
“I tracked the girl rescued from the house as far as a hospital in New Orleans, but the trail went cold after that. You’ll probably have to speak to people off the record. The hospital’s not likely to give you anything without a court order.”
Paul blew out a breath, knowing his partner was right, and that as things stood right now, he had no legal grounds to gain such a document. “And the other? The mystery girl?”
“That one’s a little trickier. There’s nothing in the police records. No follow-up at all, so the best I can do is a rumor from an old aunt of mine that lives down that way. She heard that the girl was adopted by someone in town. Thinks the woman who adopted her might own a restaurant or something.”
Paul clutched the phone and shot a glance toward the kitchen. Could it possibly be the café waif was looking for answers in the swamp, as well? “You’re sure?”
“No, I’m not sure about any of it, but my aunt is certain that’s what she heard. It may be something. It may not.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll check out a few things here today and be in touch tonight.” Paul set the cell phone on the table and looked
