Free The Lost Girls of Johnson's Bayou by Jana DeLeon Page A

before tonight. That’s why I’d bought the spotlight.” She sighed. “If you hadn’t been with me, he could have easily killed me and no one would ever have known what happened.”
    Ginny stared out the windshield as Paul pulled into town, then buried her head in her hands. “What am I going to do? It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
    Paul parked in front of the café and placed his hand on Ginny’s back. “Hey, we’ll figure it out. I promise.”
    Ginny straightened up and nodded.
    “We should get inside,” Paul said.
    The terror she’d felt earlier washed over her in a giant wave, and Ginny jumped out of the truck and hurried over to the front door of the café. She fumbled in her jeans pocket for her keys, and her hands shook as she tried to place the key in the lock. She dropped the keys and cursed.
    Before she could bend over, Paul picked up the keys. “Let me,” he said and unlocked the door.
    Ginny pushed the door open and rushed inside, pulling Paul behind her. She twisted the dead bolt back into place then hurried through the café and up the staircase to her apartment, not even looking to see if Paul followed. When she reached the apartment door, she realized Paul still had her keys. Before she could call out, he stepped on the landing behind her and passed her the keys.
    This time, her hand was steadier and she managed the lock on her own, but as soon as she stepped inside the apartment, she stopped, unable to think or move. She heard Paul close and lock the door behind her, then he gently took her by the elbow and guided her to the couch to sit. He left immediately and she could hear him rummaging through her kitchen, but she didn’t even have the desire to turn and see what he was doing.
    A minute later, he handed her a glass. “Drink,” he instructed and took her hands in his, gliding the glass to her lips.
    She took a drink and grimaced at the bitter taste of the whiskey. It burned a little going down her throat, but she took another gulp then leaned back on the couch, trying to calm her frantic mind. Paul placed the glass on the coffee table and sat next to her, his worried eyes studying her face.
    “You’re in shock,” he said. “Don’t try to talk. Just relax for a minute and let the whiskey do its job.”
    Ginny nodded and leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. She felt the whiskey begin to warm in her belly and move up her body. Her muscles began to relax and her heartbeat slowed to an almost normal pace. She opened her eyes and found Paul anxiously watching her.
    “I’m sorry I worried you,” she said.
    “Don’t you dare apologize. Tonight scared me, and I’ve got eight years of being a cop and two of being a private investigator behind me.”
    “What are we going to do? This is my home. I don’t know anything else but I don’t feel safe here anymore.”
    “Who else has a key to your apartment?”
    “Only Mom.”
    “No landlord?”
    “No. Mom bought the building several years back from some ritzy attorney in New Orleans. I think he owned several buildings here.”
    “Okay, but if the shooter didn’t force entry in here to read your journal, someone else besides Madelaine must have a key. Did you keep a spare in the café?”
    “No. Only two keys came with the lock. I took one and gave Mom the other.”
    “Who installed the lock?”
    Ginny sucked in a breath. “Saul Pritchard. You asked me about him earlier. Do you think he could be behind this? Was there some way he could have duplicated the key?”
    “I don’t know, but I’m going to have my partner do some checking on Mr. Pritchard. See what he can dig up.” Paul rose from the couch. “But for now, I think you ought to take a hot shower, see to those scratches and try to get some sleep.”
    “Yeah, sure. Like I’m going to sleep knowing someone has a key to my apartment.”
    “The inside dead bolt is locked, and I’m not moving off that couch until morning.”
    Ginny stared. “Oh, no. I can’t