Shadows (Bayou Magic 1)

“What’s wrong?”

“Andy says he hasn’t heard from our mom today. I’ll try to call her again.” He holds the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. “Mom! I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

His shoulders sag in relief, and I slip my hand into his free one, giving it a supportive squeeze.

“Are you feeling okay?”

I tune out the conversation and glance behind me. There are only two girls following me now.

Tammy’s gone.

Is it because they found her body and now she can be at peace?

Is peace what they each want?

I wish I could talk to them, understand what in the world is going on.

I wonder if the only way to figure this out is to allow myself to dream-walk again. To ask questions and be more present in the moment and less afraid.

To be fair, it was a surprise last time.

But if I’m more prepared, I might be able to make it work in my favor.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

Cash hangs up and sighs in relief.

“How is she?”

“Tired,” he says. “She says she’s just tired, but I talked her into going to the doctor.”

“I’m glad. I suppose we should stop in to see Millie at the café. And I should call Daphne.”

“No.”

I stop on the sidewalk and stare up at Cash. “What? Why?”

“No, we’re going to take a few hours just for us.”

I’ll admit, I was embarrassed last night when I blurted out that he hadn’t kissed me yet. I’d like to chalk it up to exhaustion and sexual frustration.

But it’s probably more about me being socially awkward.

“Say something,” he says.

“What do you want to do?”

“Anything, as long as it’s with you, we’re not talking about murder or death, and I can get to know you better.”

“You want to go on a date? At eleven in the morning?”

“Dates happen at any time of day,” he reminds me. “And, yes, that’s what I want. Let’s take a break. We’ve done everything we can for now. Until Asher or my boss calls to let me know I’m officially part of the investigation, there’s nothing more for us to do.”

He brushes his knuckles down my cheek.

“I’d like some time alone with you.”

“Death follows me wherever I go,” I warn him, but he just smiles.

“Yes, but we don’t have to dwell on it, do we?” He kisses my nose and leads me back to my apartment and his car, which he parked at the curb yesterday. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Okay.” I sit in the passenger seat. Once he’s started the car, he pulls away and heads across town, away from the French Quarter.

“I asked my brother to tell me where his favorite restaurant is away from the Quarter,” Cash informs me. “I think we need a little break from there. We’ll have a nice lunch, then go from there.”

“It’s not part of my usual routine, but I admit that it sounds nice.” I settle back against the leather of the seat and take a deep breath. It feels good to let someone else make plans. “I work tonight.”

“No.”

My head whips around so I can stare at him. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t you think you should take some time off until we get a handle on this?”

“No, I don’t.” I shift in my seat to face him fully. “First of all, you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Cash. Second, I have to work. I have bills to pay. And trust me when I say it’s not cheap to live in the Quarter.”

“This sicko’s taking girls, torturing and killing them, and they look exactly like you.”

“I’m well aware.”

Two of them are sitting in the back seat of his car, but there’s no need to tell him that.

“Give me one week,” Cash says as he guides the vehicle into a parking space and turns to me with beseeching, green eyes. “Please, just give me a week. I’ll pay your rent this month. Hell, I’ll pay for everything.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m scared,” he admits and reaches for my hand. He kisses my knuckles and then looks back at me. “If he were to take you, I would never forgive myself.”

“One week,” I confirm. “I’ll give you that. I’ll make a call once we’re inside.”

“Just like that?”

“I don’t know many men who would freely admit that they’re afraid,” I reply. “Most give an order, stomp their foot, and expect the little woman to fall in line.”

“I’m not an asshole.”

“No. You’re not. So, yes, I’ll agree to a week. You don’t have to pay my rent, though. I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, then gets out of the car. He opens my door and leads me inside a new building that houses a Mexican restaurant. “New construction. Not remodeled, brand new. No ghosts here.”

I smile, touched that he put some thought into choosing the place. Of course, there are ghosts everywhere, no matter when the building was built.