Page 26 of Girl Between

“Is that for now or …”

Jake sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well,” George said. “Justice comes first.”

“Hooah,” Shepard replied, lacking his usual gusto.

Still, George gave the obligatory, “Hooah!” in answer, then said, “I’ll ask Dr. Gray what she thinks about consulting on my case. I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks,” Shepard said. “Gives me peace of mind knowing she’s in your orbit.”

“Again, I don’t think she’s the kind of woman who needs looking after, but whatever helps you sleep.”

“Thanks, Flynn. I knew I could count on you.”

“I go by George now,” he corrected.

“Right,” Shepard replied. “That’ll take some getting used to.”

“I’ll be in touch,” said George.

After disconnecting the call, George stared back at the open folder on his lap. Pulling his feet from the desk, he sat up and examined the ME’s report once more.

Jane Doe. Mid-twenties. Drained of three liters of blood. Missing liver.

The mere fact that Dana Gray had introduced herself as Jane Doe last night was enough to give George cause to question her about the case. But her expertise in the study of vampires made her involvement an easy leap. And that was before he discovered she was studying a death mask that matched the exact one the victim had been wearing.

George wished he didn’t have to ask for her help on this case, because from his brief encounters with her, he had a feeling Dr. Gray’s answer would be a resounding no. But that wouldn’t stop him from doing his job. And right now, it seemed investigating Dana Gray was part of that.

28

Dana stoodunder the powerful stream of steaming water in her shower. She sighed in relief, grateful to be back in the shelter of her well-appointed hotel room.

Hotel Monteleone didn’t skimp on luxury. Especially since she’d secured one of the coveted writer’s suites. She’d rented a regular room, but when she’d arrived, the front desk told her she’d been upgraded.

Instantly acclimating to the elevated lodging, she resented learning it was Jake who’d secured the unnecessary lavishness through one of his many contacts.

Each time she found herself enjoying any of the amenities, a crushing guilt washed over her, ruining the indulgence.

It seemed escaping him was impossible. Which she was reminded of yet again today, when her one and only dalliance showed up at her place of work on Jake’s behest—something she was going to give him an earful about when she worked up the courage to call him.

Dana massaged her scalp, attempting to rid herself of shampoo and shame. She was only successful with the former.

When she’d had her fill of the Carrera marble shower, she turnedoff the water and dressed in the Monteleone’s luxurious white terry bathrobe. Wrapping her hair in a towel, she padded barefoot into the living room of her suite. She turned on the room’s vintage record player, and the sultry sounds of John Coltrane filled the space.

Dana poured herself a glass of red wine and crossed the room to the large picture window that overlooked the French Quarter. She sat on the low, wide windowsill. The double casement windows had been designed to open in the middle, allowing the breeze from the mighty Mississippi to drift in and cool the upper floors in the summer months. Unfortunately, they no longer functioned, most likely due to hotel safety measures.

Despite the quiet, Dana knew that floors above and below her thrived with the lively pulse of the city. If she wasn’t still nursing a hangover, she might’ve been tempted to visit the rooftop pool or the hotel’s famous Carousel Bar.

Thanks to having had her fill of fun last night, she was more than satisfied to stay in, letting the world-class cuisine from Criollo, the hotel’s restaurant, find its way to her room tonight.

In the weeks she’s been in residence at Hotel Monteleone, Dana had perfected her room service order. Burrata salad, vegetarian bisque, and butterscotch bread pudding. Tonight, she’d added an order of truffle fries to ensure she’d be able to slip into a food coma and sleep off her endless hangover.

When she heard the knock at her door, she was already salivating. But it wasn’t a bowtie-wearing staff member who greeted her. Instead, she found herself face-to-face with Detective Vincent George, yet again.

“Detective?”

“Sorry to drop in unannounced, again, but?—”