Page 93 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Heavy gray clouds rolled in, low and fast, as if preparing Dana for what was ahead. It’d already poured once, but the second deluge of rain was welcome, offering relief from the agitating heat that had her on edge.

The storm passed quickly, finishing before she and George even reached their destination. The hungry soil absorbed the rain so rapidly that the only evidence left behind was the smell from the steaming pavement.

“I love the smell after it rains,” George mused as he parked his truck on St. Charles.

“Petrichor,” Dana said, a fan of the scent herself. “That’s what the smell is called.”

“Yeah?”

“Comes from the Greek words petra, meaning stone, and ichor, which refers to the golden fluid that flows in the veins of the immortals in Greek mythology. It’s more scientific than that, of course.

Moisture gets trapped in the pores of soil and rocks.

The rain forces the oils out into the air creating the smell.

” She shrugged. “But I’ve always liked the Greek myth best. ”

George flashed the amused smile he often wore in her company. “Now so do I.”

They walked up the tree-lined sidewalk of St. Charles Avenue, the rattle of street cars filling the fresh rain-scented air. Dana grinned at the stunning architectural styles of the ornate homes lining both sides of the wide avenue.

Greek Revival, Italianate, Queen Anne, Colonial, Neoclassical, Edwardian.They’d even passed a Jerusalem Temple and a modified Moorish mosque on the drive over.

The beauty of the Garden District never got old. Dana was about to point out a particularly stunning colonial mansion when her foot caught on the uneven sidewalk.

George’s reaction was lightning fast. He caught her around the waist before the raised sidewalk could claim another victim.

“Gotta watch out. Our sidewalks got an appetite.”

Dana gawked at the root-torn section of sidewalk. It was raised high enough to swallow a small dog.

“Thanks,” she said, regaining her balance, but George didn’t let go.

Instead, he moved closer. His bright gaze turned serious. “I got you,” he whispered, his whiskey-colored eyes boring into hers.

Heat blazed through Dana, along with the echo of Lena’s words. Pulling away, she put space between them. In an instant, George’s lustful gaze cleared, freed from whatever had almost pulled them into a potentially dangerous, and certainly unprofessional, situation.

She liked him. Their chemistry was undeniable. Maybe in another life she would’ve leaned in, instead of away. But this was the life she was given. And she’d meant what she said to Lena. She wasn’t here to cause anyone more pain.

As good as any fleeting moments of inhibition between her and George might feel, they would eventually give way to pain. And that’s what she’d come here to avoid.

“Have you been here before?” Dana asked, desperate to get back on track.

George shook his head. “Nah. Read enough in the reports that it seemed like another dead end. Besides, my days are normally too tied up with gang bangers and homicide to go digging into the past.”

The logic was both solid and sad. But Dana couldn’t help feeling it legitimized the importance of her work.

In a few more decades would the legendary Harvest Girls case find its way to her desk?

If it did, she’d like to think she would’ve acquired the tools and team to put it to rest once and for all. Even better, maybe she’d find a way to end it today.

They stopped at the corner of St. Charles and Third, in front of a large, white house with two floors of columns and balconies.

George walked up to the black wrought iron fence that surrounded the corner lot and pressed the gold call button.

A moment later, a metallic click granted them access to the grandiose property.

Even then, Dana knew there was something different, darker about this house. She had a feeling the sturdy exterior hid the true horrors that dwelled inside.