Page 119 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dancing under the stars with George had been unexpected.

It lifted Dana’s mood considerably, but it didn’t erase her disappointment when she looked at her phone.

The blank message field stared back at her.

Jake still hadn’t responded. Not even after her last message.

Dana: Can you talk? Today was a hard one. We could really use you out here.

Dana: Fine, I could really use you out here.

She had no right to be pissed. Creed ordered Jake back to D.C. It’s not like he hadn’t told her he planned to return for the trial. Jake had only come to New Orleans to remind Dana she should be there, too. Which he’d done. Repeatedly.

Dana shouldn’t have let herself get pulled back into the comfortable routine of working a case with Jake.

He wasn’t on this one. She knew he’d be an asset, but Creed had other ideas.

What was Jakes supposed to do? Disobey orders and follow her around until she got her head straight?

He would’ve. Knowing that made her indecision harder to swallow.

Jake’s words came back to her: Give me a reason to stay.

Dana squeezed her eyes shut wishing it was that simple. What she’d told George was true. Not all ghosts are bad. The trouble was, Dana had no control over the ones that consumed her thoughts, dragging her back to the darkness she’d spent a lifetime crawling out of.

Jake battled his own demons. It wouldn’t be right to add hers to his fight.

Disappointed, Dana slipped her phone back into her purse and headed inside to say her goodbyes. After more hugs than at a funeral, she managed to make her way to the stairs. “Don’t forget to say goodnight to Jourdan,” someone called to her.

It made Dana smile. She’d heard the story of Muriel’s beloved ghost, Pierre Antoine Lepardi Jourdan.

His was a cautionary tale of a man who’d built his dream home only to gamble it away.

Though Jourdan’s insatiable thirst for the thrill of gambling cost him his treasured residence, he never truly left.

Now a local legend, he’s believed to haunt the grounds of Muriel’s after committing suicide within its walls in 1814.

Being that the city embraced lost souls, Muriel’s continued to welcome their old kindred spirit to dine by setting a table with bread and wine for Jourdan each evening.

Dana knew it was just folklore, but she believed every life deserved to be remembered. It was nice to be in a city that shared that belief.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, Miriam Barton’s words returned to Dana. She raised her full wine glass. “Goodnight, Jourdan,” she said before placing her untouched wine on the fully set table.