Page 34 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Once again, Dana found herself on the back of George’s bike, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist.

She barely recalled making the decision to follow him from the backyard to the street. But before she knew it, she was standing next to his motorcycle, her hand tightly gripping his.

He’d been a pillar of calm in the chaos as the party broke up around them. Officers departed like darkness chased by the dawn while George stood in the center of it all, skillfully directing his team.

Once on the street, he turned his attention to Dana, his bright whiskey-colored eyes asking a silent question.

In or out?

Her mind might not have been made up, but her body made the decision for her—head nodding, feet moving of their own accord. That’s how she found herself here, chest pressed to George’s back, speeding through the night.

The drive from her office earlier today was leisurely compared to the breakneck speeds in which the city blurred by now.

Urgency radiated through every inch of George’s taut muscles as they careened through traffic toward the crime scene.

It was the same urgency Dana always felt when she was working a case with Jake .

It didn’t matter that the victim they were speeding toward was beyond saving. That wasn’t what drove their urgency.

They raced for the living, the survivors—those who’d been left behind, forever scarred by death’s touch. Nothing would ever make things right for those touched by such savage cruelty, but the faster they found answers, the sooner the healing could begin.

At least that’s how Dana saw it. Despite knowing some wounds were too deep for even time to mend.

She forced her eyes closed against the memories that assaulted her mind as New Orleans was reduced to a blur of lights and police sirens. George’s motorcycle chewed asphalt as they followed the unit of squad cars. As always, the red and blue police lights conjured visions that tormented Dana.

Her parents, Dante, Cramer, Fuller, Meredith, Claire …

The sound of screeching tires brought Dana back to the present.

She opened her eyes to the telltale sign of yellow police tape, signaling that they’d arrived at the crime scene.

The fact that it was a cemetery only made it more disturbing.

From the street, Dana could just make out the tops of the tombstones poking through the blanket of evening fog.

George dismounted the bike, and Dana followed.

“Kill the lights,” George ordered. “This is a place of rest.”

Mercifully, the officers obliged, and the garish blue and red landscape of Dana’s nightmares vanished.

She stood on the onlookers’ side of the yellow police tape, for a moment, remembering a time when she wouldn’t have dreamed of crossing it. But as George ducked the tape and signaled for Dana to follow, she couldn’t resist the pull.

She followed George, noting the decorative ironwork arch she passed under, announcing she was now entering the hallowed ground of Lafayette Cemetery.

The air was cooler inside the high white walls of the graveyard. It was quieter, too. Only the low murmurs of the officers gathered near the corpse disturbed the silence. Dana watched George join the rest of his team .

Observing him shift fully into detective mode was jarring. Gone was the carefree, flirtatious man she’d been dancing with only minutes ago. This version of George was all business and unnervingly like a certain FBI agent Dana was having a hard time getting out of her mind.

“What’ve we got?” George asked.

“Different cemetery, same MO,” an officer already on scene replied.

“Why’s it always gotta be cemeteries?” Neville muttered.

Dana understood the sentiment. There’d been a time when she hadn’t minded cemeteries.

Actually, she might’ve even been a bit of a taphophile.

She wasn’t a tombstone tourist by any means, but she could appreciate the peace found in the quiet resting place of those who’d come before her and hopefully moved on to a better place.

But that had been before she’d experienced the icy touch of death.

She couldn’t argue that cemeteries held history and were often places of beauty, art, and poetry, but to Dana, they were a reminder of how fleeting life was and how much she still had left to lose.