Her brows lift. “You’re an FBI agent?”
“I am.” I nod and lean back when two frozen drinks and a large plate of beignets are set before us. “I’ve been with them for about ten years.”
“What do you do for them?”
“I’m a profiler.”
“Wow, that’s fascinating,” she says and takes a bite of a donut. “Do you profile murderers? Like serial killers?”
“Sometimes.” I nod and watch as she licks some powdered sugar from her lower lip.
I want to lick that lip myself.
“Okay, that’s pretty cool, Cash. I can honestly say I’ve never met a profiler before.”
“That you know of.”
She nods. “True. Do you work out of Savannah?”
“I’m actually based in the Dallas field office, but I travel frequently, going wherever I’m needed.”
“And what are you doing in New Orleans?”
I sigh and suddenly wish the coffee were whiskey.
“I’m on mandatory leave.”
She tips her head to the side. “Did you kill someone in the line of duty?”
“No.” Not this time. “I just came off a pretty intense case. I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time, and my boss pretty much pushed me out the door. I’m not welcome back for a few weeks.”
“That’s quite a vacation.”
“Too long.” I sigh, still frustrated. “I’m not used to being idle. That’s how I found you. Andy and Felicia wanted to go out on a date the other night, and I didn’t want to sit at their place alone, so I went out and found your tour.”
“I’m glad you did,” she says quietly. “Is it weird that I feel like I’ve met you before? I barely know you. You’re a stranger. Yet, here I am, hanging out with you like we’re old friends.”
“It’s not weird, I was just thinking the same. Maybe we met in a former life or something.”
She doesn’t laugh at that. She just narrows her eyes and taps her lips, seeming to give it some thought.
“I was joking.”
“I know you were, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“Do you believe in past lives?”
Her eyes meet mine. “I believe in a lot of things, Cash. And I’m going to tell you, right here and now, even when I barely know you, that if you’d like for us to simply go our separate ways, I won’t hold it against you.”
I frown. “That feels a little dramatic.”
“It’s not.” She wipes her hands, finishing the last of her treat. “I told you the other night, I’m a complicated woman. I wasn’t kidding.”
“I suppose we’re all complicated, in our own ways. You haven’t scared me off.”
“Yet,” she whispers.
“Okay, tell me what you think would send me running?”
“I see dead people,” she says with a straight face. “It’s why I’m so good at my job. I don’t just know the lore because I studied it. Much of what I know has been told to me by the souls who experienced it themselves.”
I blink at her. I honestly don’t know what to say.
“See? Complicated.”
“How long has it been that way for you?”
“Since my earliest memories,” she says. “And, yes, it’s scary. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it entirely, but I’ve learned to live with it.”
“Being in the French Quarter must be unbearable for you.”
She tips her head to the side. “Huh. You haven’t run off yet.”
“I see no reason to go anywhere.”
“To answer your question, no, the Quarter isn’t super fun for someone like me. But I make my living here. And I take precautions.”
“What kind of precautions?”
“I think I’ve talked about myself long enough. Tell me more about you. Why the FBI?”
“Well, I got my Ph.D. in psychology and then decided to go through the academy. I always knew I wanted to work for the FBI. Maybe I read too many thrillers when I was a kid. It was a lot of studying and training. As I mentioned, I’ve been an agent for about ten years, and a profiler for five, meaning post-training.”
“Good for you. Do you enjoy it?”
“Despite some of the things I’ve seen, you mean? Yes. Because, at the end of the day, we put monsters in cages.”
“I bet you’ve seen a lot of horrible stuff.”
More horrible than you can imagine.
“You said you’re originally from the area?” I ask, changing the subject. She smiles and stands, motioning for me to follow her.
“I’ll tell you about my sordid past while you walk me home.”
“Deal.”
“I grew up out in the bayou, about an hour from the city. I have two sisters, both younger. My parents were pathetic and horrible excuses for human beings.”
“That good, huh?”
“Abusive.” She shrugs one shoulder, and I feel immediate and intense anger. I want to hurt anyone who would dare abuse this woman. “Neglect. Not to mention, we lived in the most haunted house in Louisiana, and that’s saying a lot.”
“Wow.”
“Do you believe in ghosts, Cash?”
I frown, thinking it over. “I think I like a good story. But I don’t know if I believe, to be honest, because I’ve never experienced anything paranormal.”
“Never?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I know I’ve never seen a ghost.”
“Have you ever been somewhere and, suddenly, all of the hairs on your body stand on end, and you don’t know why?”
“Sure.”
“Or walked into a room that suddenly feels a lot colder than any other part of the house?”
“Everyone’s felt a chill.”
She smiles up at me. “You’ve experienced things, Cash. You just didn’t know that you were experiencing them.”
“Huh.”
“Or are you one of those people who thinks things like this don’t exist?”
“I’ve seen evil,” I reply honestly. “And I’m not so close-minded that I can say there’s not something out there that we can’t see. I can’t say I’m a believer, but I think you believe it, and sometimes, that’s all that matters.”
“That’s a good answer.”
“Do you live here in the Quarter?”
“Yes.” She nods and leads me around a corner. “I have an apartment just down the street here.”
“Is it haunted?”
“Everything’s haunted. But the spirits there are calm and don’t bother me much.”
I take her hand once more, and when her fingers clench hard on mine, I frown down at her.
She stops short, staring straight ahead.
It’s like watching her the other night all over again.
“Brielle? What’s wrong?”
“This has never happened before,” she whispers, and I can see she’s starting to shake.
“Hey. Hey.” I tip her face up to mine. “I’m right here, and I won’t let anything hurt you. But you have to tell me what’s happening.”