"Stranger and stranger. Good thing I trust you and those instincts of yours. Call you back shortly." He hung up.

"He's going to make the calls," Gage told the others.

"What do we do now?" Meredith asked.

"Wait and see where his fishing expedition leads. He may find out that she really is with a sick relative. If she is, we can fly to wherever she is and get a sample of her DNA."

"And if she refuses?"

"We find a way."

She nodded.

"Dom?"

Dom didn't look happy. But after a moment he nodded. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," he muttered.

Meredith reached out and took his hand. "We'll find her," she said.

The call came an hour later.

"What in the blazes is going on?" DeWitt said. "I've never heard so much tap dancing in my life."

"Did you get a location?"

"h.e.l.l, no. d.a.m.ndest thing I've ever heard. Most politicians would jump through hoops for this kind of interview. Ames is 'out of town.' I asked to talk to his wife. She wasn't 'available.' I asked where she was. I was told, "Taking care of a relative.' I asked where. 'She can't take questions now.' What city is she in? 'Sorry, she wants privacy.'

"All this from an aide, as if he were programmed. I insisted on talking to the candidate himself. He couldn't be reached. Important session in Baton Rouge. I checked with our capitol guy. Nothing's going on. As far as he knew, Ames was politicking in New Orleans. Started checking back in our clips. No one has seen hide nor hair of Mrs. Ames in nearly seven weeks."

"You didn't leave it there, did you?"

"h.e.l.l, no. Called back and said there were rumors that Mrs. Ames has left our candidate, and could his spokesman verify or deny. He denied of course. I said the only way I won't begin speculating is if I hear from the lady herself. Otherwise, I'll really start probing."

"What did he say?"

"He sounded nervous as h.e.l.l. Said he would get back to me, but I was all wrong. Mrs. Ames was committed to her husband and the campaign, but she had a family obligation. h.e.l.l, I checked on her family. There's d.a.m.n little of it. Her mother is dead. She has two aunts, and neither of them has heard from Holly Ames in months. Her father is Supreme Court Justice Matthews. Couldn't reach him, either.

"Gotta tell you, Gage, I'm beginning to sniff a story here. Who is the person who wants to talk to her? I fulfilled my part of the bargain. It's time for you to fill in some blanks here."

Gage looked at Meredith and raised an eyebrow. They had talked about this. Meredith had told him to use his own judgment.

"Meredith Rawson."

"My G.o.d. The Meredith Rawson who lost her father in the hit and run? Who has been attacked, witnessed a murder and been shot at by a rogue cop?"

"An accurate a.s.sessment. Yes."

"Do the cops have any clues in the hit-and-run?"

"No. They are dismissing it as accidental rather than an intentional murder."

"You aren't?"

"No."

DeWitt cursed on the other end of the line. "Will you stop saying yes and no? This whole thing is beginning to smell like rotten fish."

"Try a little harder to find her," Gage said. "Without involving Ms. Rawson. Then we'll talk."

"I'll try the justice again."

"You might try to find out a little more about Holly Ames. Hobbies, community involvement--you know, things like that."

A silence. "You think something bad has happened to her?"

"I don't think anything. I just want to locate her without being involved." Gage paused, then added, "But as you said--it's beginning to smell. Someone else involved in the situation is also dead. Merely because of questions asked. Be careful."

An even longer silence. "You think Ames is involved? And maybe Judge Matthews? I need to talk to you."

"I'm not at home."

"And you're not going to tell me where you are?"

"No."

"I can call the department."

"You would never get anything from me again."

"Dammit, Gage."

"Find her," Gage said, and hung up.

Meredith made them all toasted cheese sandwiches. She included two for Beast since they hadn't brought his dog food.

He gulped his as the three humans sat at the table and ate. She liked Dom. It had taken a few hours. There had been awkwardness, even resentment. All this began with an affair that took place thirty-three years ago. If it hadn't...

But then there never would have been a sister. Her mother would have never known love, even as cruel as this one had been.

She was beginning to learn the value of love. The glory of it. The joy. She knew it every time she looked at Gage. She wondered whether he felt the same delicious shivers up and down his spine when he looked at her as she did when her glance wandered his way.

What would happen when the danger was over? When the partnership ended? When the adrenaline ebbed?

She didn't want to think about that. She wanted to know more about the man who had incited dangerous feelings in her mother and who had fathered her half sister.

"How did you meet Mother?" she asked.

"She and her friends came to my father's tavern. They'd heard we had a great Cajun band, and basically they were slumming. Except for your mother. She loved the music. She didn't laugh at the grandfather dancing with his six-year-old granddaughter." He caught the look on her face. "Yes, children came to eat and dance. You have to understand. Cajuns are big on family. It's the most meaningful thing to them.

"Your mother fell in love with my family, with the music. The others got bored and decided to go. I had danced with her. I didn't want to let her go. I offered to take her and her friend, Lulu, home.

"Maggie and I fell in love that night. I thought she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. You've heard of laughing eyes. I had, too, but I had never seen them until that night. She glowed with life and vitality."

His regret and sadness seeped through her. She remembered her mother's unhappiness. Two young lives destroyed. Why?

"And it was Prescott who framed you?"

"Yes."

"And then someone killed him. So he obviously didn't act on his own."

"He could have been killed for some other reason," Gage interjected. "From everything I could discover, he had enemies. He was a gambler, for one thing."

"I could buy that if there weren't so many other deaths that are related in some way."

But they were getting away from the subject she most wanted to hear about. Her mother. "How long were you and my mother together?"

"Four months. Long enough to know we wanted to be married. My parents objected as much as I knew hers would. She wasn't Cajun. She wouldn't understand our ways. They wanted me to take over the tavern, but I'd never wanted that. I wanted to go to college and become someone important. Well, I became someone important, but not in the way I thought."

"Ah, but you have," she said gently. "You've helped so many kids."

"Except my own," he said. "Except my own."

After lunch, Gage asked her if she wanted to explore the bayou with him in the canoe. "I'll take the cell phone. There's not much we can do until DeWitt calls back."

"And Dom?"

"I already asked him. He wants to make some phone calls. I think he needs some time to absorb everything."

She understood. It had taken her days to absorb everything. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to discover you'd had a daughter thirty-three years earlier. "Beast?"

"Beast will stay here. I don't think anyone knows about this place, but he sure as h.e.l.l will let everyone know if there's lurkers around."

She liked the idea of being alone with him. She needed to relax. She liked Dom but there was no question that there was an unease between them. She was the daughter of his love and probably his enemy.

She watched as Gage dragged the canoe to the dock and nervously eyed it as he settled it in the water. She had never been in one, and she knew how fragile and easily unbalanced one could be. She was not good at balance. Neither was she good at grace.

He must have caught her apprehension because he grinned. "Believe it or not, Beast has gone canoeing with me. If he can do it..." He left the sentence unfinished.

Falling into a bayou full of alligators and snakes was not her idea of fun. But if Beast could do it, she certainly could. And the prospect of being with Gage in his territory was irresistible.

He got in first, then held out his hand to her. The strength in that hand helped as she stepped in. His other hand caught her and guided her down onto a seat. For a moment, she feared she would tip the boat, and then she caught the balance.

He sat down and handed her a paddle. "Just watch me," he said with a lopsided grin that made her want to do anything.

Beast looked dismayed from his spot on the dock.

"Not this time," Gage told him. "Take care of Dom. Guard."

The dog turned and trotted back to the shack.

Gage put his paddle in the water and made what looked like effortless strokes. She watched him for several minutes.

"You do the exact same thing on the other side. Try to match my rhythm."

Easier said than done. She leaned over and the canoe started to tip. She leaned in the opposite direction. She watched as he balanced the canoe. "Don't lean," he said. "Use your arms until you find the balance."

She tried again.

This time the canoe moved faster. She found her rhythm and started to look around. Moss hung from trees rising from the water. Water flowers floated on the surface.

She had never heard this kind of peace. There was the buzzing of insects, the call of a bird, the sound of the paddles, but there was a human silence. A breeze softened the heavy moisture-laden heat. The aroma of flowers and vegetation filled the air.

The world and its dangers seemed a million miles away. She was flooded with a sense of peace as the canoe sliced though the waters. An alligator sunned itself on a bank. A bird sang its song. She understood now the lure of the swamp and the bayous, the sensuous feeling of timelessness.

He turned and looked at her, his slow smile mesmerizing her. He knew that she was succ.u.mbing to the magic. "When the world gets too violent," he said softly, "I come here. Nothing changes here. I imagine it was like this five hundred years ago. I always get balance."

It wasn't a word she would have expected him to use. He'd always seemed more like an action person. Always in movement. Always restless. Here there was a peace about him.

Layers and layers. How intriguing to explore them. He was, she decided, the most complex man she had ever met. She wanted to lean over and push back a lock of sandy hair that fell over his forehead. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and he had unb.u.t.toned his shirt so the breeze could reach his body. In addition to being the most complex man, he was also the s.e.xiest. And at the moment, he oozed s.e.xuality.

She almost dropped the darn paddle.

Whether or not he sensed her feelings, he guided the canoe toward a piece of land that jutted outward. He hopped out and pulled the boat up, then held out his hand to her. She took it, her hand fitting in his so naturally. He pulled her to him, against him, and he kissed her.

They had kissed before. They had made love before. But this was on an entirely different level. She felt the kiss through to her bones. It was tender and savage, pa.s.sionate yet comforting, soothing. It was both demanding and giving.

She leaned against him, absorbing the love and care inherent in every caress.

She wished they weren't standing in the middle of a swamp.

His cell phone rang.

She silently cursed the intrusion of modern technology in a place where time seemed to stand still.

She heard his side of the conversation.

"Yeah?"

"You have to be kidding." Not a question.

"You sure about this?" A question.

Then, "Public record now, right?"

A pause. "No one will know where it came from. Thanks, buddy." He snapped the phone closed.

She waited for an explanation.