drew the phone from his pocket and answered it.
The investigator’s flat, nasal voice greeted him. “All the dough you’ve been shelling out for those mailers finally paid off, Mitch. We got a possible lead.”
A possible lead. Mitch shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, overcome with relief that the news hadn’t been bad. Immediately following that relief came disappointment that the news hadn’t been better. He’d been praying so damn long for the words I’ve found your daughter. She’s okay. “What kind of lead, Chuck?”
“A man in Florida said he recognized a neighbor from the photos on a mailer. Said she goes by the name Kate Jones. He doesn’t know much more than that about her. I’ve been staked out in front of the house, and a few minutes ago, a blonde stepped out onto the porch. She looks a lot like your wife.”
Mitch grimaced at the term. He’d have preferred “ex-wife,” although it wasn’t technically correct. Camryn had taken off before they’d corrected major glitches in their divorce proceedings. Legally, they were still married—a situation he would remedy the moment he got his daughter back from her and knew that he’d be awarded custody. Full custody, this time. “Does she have a baby with her?”
“Haven’t seen one yet, but I noticed a stroller in the garage.”
Mitch’s blood roared in his ears with a fierce surge of hope. Please, God, let it be Camryn. And let Arianne be with her, safe and sound. “Watch her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“This gal ain’t going nowhere without me on her tail.”
“Where are you in Florida?” Mitch demanded, rising from the bench at the picnic table. He couldn’t waste a moment. He had to get there before Camryn ran again.
“Tallahassee. But don’t go off half-cocked. Think about how you want to handle this. You and I know she ran illegally with your kid, but you can’t be sure how another state will deal with custody disputes. The law at home might be on your side, but you don’t have any guarantees outside of Louisiana.”
“That’s why I’m bringing her back. And I’m not about to call the cops, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Mitch knew better than to rely on anyone except himself. Camryn would flash her pretty smile and have the cops falling all over themselves to do her favors before he had a chance to show his joint custody papers. They’d probably arrest him and let her go free—to run with Arianne again.
If she still had Arianne. Mitch refused to put too much stock in the stroller the detective had noticed. Camryn could be staying with someone who had a baby. During her six months on the run, she might have left Arianne with a baby-sitter, or forgotten her outside a casino, or…
Mitch refused to think about the possibilities. The woman had a warped maternal instinct and absolutely no sense of responsibility. He believed she’d taken Arianne from him out of spite for what she considered his “interference” in her life. She’d resented the restraints imposed on her by marriage—as brief as their marriage had been—and even more, the demands of motherhood. She lived for fun and thrills. The risks she took in search of those thrills made Mitch’s muscles clench. What a sap he was! As furious as she made him, he couldn’t keep from worrying about Camryn as well as their daughter.
Their sweet baby daughter. Arianne. He hadn’t seen her in six months. She’d be nine months old by now. Did Camryn still have her? If so, was she taking decent care of her? He couldn’t imagine her taking care of anyone for that long, let alone fulfilling the constant needs of a baby.
Then again, Camryn could do or be anything she set her mind to, at least for a while. She was a chameleon, changing colors to suit her mood or to get her wherever she wanted to go. He hoped her current whims included mothering Arianne.
If only he’d known Camryn before he’d gotten involved with her! But he’d been pretty damn irresponsible himself. He, too, had taken foolhardy risks in search of excitement. Like sleeping with a gorgeous stranger.
But he had to admit, it had been more for him than just thrill seeking. He’d been poleaxed by the sight of her. In that first blinding flash of reaction, he’d been sure she was the woman of his dreams. Her face, her eyes, her voice. Her body. Everything about her seemed so damn right…as if she’d stepped directly from his fantasies, custom-made for him alone. He’d honestly felt that fate had brought him to this one golden moment in time so that he could meet his soul mate. Never before had he been overcome by such a powerful certainty.
And never since.
Her beauty, vivaciousness and fun-loving spirit had kept him flying high through the first couple of weeks of their relationship. But gradually he realized that the deeper, more profound qualities he craved in a life partner simply weren’t there.
She was like flauteau—the lush stretches of Louisiana grass and greenery that looked as solid as earth but were actually nothing more than vegetation floating on the surface of a swamp. A man foolish enough to step onto flauteau would sink beneath the dense foliage into stagnant, muddy water without leaving so much as a trace.
All flash was Camryn, without an inch of solid ground. And now he was drowning in his own foolishness over her.
When she told him she was going to have his baby, he insisted that she marry him. Old-fashioned of him, maybe, but he’d wanted at least the appearance of love for their child’s sake, once she was old enough to understand things like parenthood and marriage.
It turned out that Camryn herself didn’t know much about those things. She carried on a fairly convincing charade of wife and mother for as long as she could, but her true nature soon got the best of her. She craved fun and thrills and self-gratification, and when the conflict with him became too much for her, she filed for divorce. And then left town…before that divorce had been properly finalized…with Arianne. She’d barely been three months old.
And now, as he tried to track Camryn down, he was amazed at how little he knew about her. According to information gleaned from Arianne’s birth certificate, Camryn had been born in Pennsylvania, but his search there proved fruitless. She’d said her parents were dead; he didn’t know if she had any surviving family members. Her maiden name of “Jones” didn’t help much in a computer search; every state in the country had thousands of them.
He hoped to God that he’d finally found her.
Mitch finished his conversation with the detective and returned his cell phone to his pocket, his mind whirling and his heart pounding. He had strategies to plan and preparations to make.
“Mon Dieu! Have they found our Arianne?” His mother’s breathless question and anxious expression jarred him from his thoughts. Every pair of eyes around the table reflected the same deep-seated concern.
“Maybe. I’m about to go find out.” His throat nearly closed with emotion. “I might be bringing her home.”
The prospect awed him. He’d missed her so damn much—holding her, feeding her, making her smile. Watching her bloom into the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen. His daughter. Had she needed him? Had she wondered where he was? Could she possibly even remember him?
His eldest sister whispered a prayer in French and made the sign of the cross. His younger sister hugged him. His father gripped his shoulder in silent support. His brother-in-law insisted on going with him, and everyone else chimed in with offers of help.
A small hand tugged on his
