"A promise is a promise.” She kissed him again, took his hand and led him outside to the narrow little driveway where his Jeep was parked. There were kids hanging out, plugged into I-pods and practicing jumps on their skateboards, an older man smoking on the stoop of an apartment building, and a couple of men in their twenties working on a car in a garage a couple of doors down the street.

On the corner of the next bock, a sizzling sign for the local bar glowed neon green in the night. Farther south, past cross streets and old buildings, was the waterfront where the Mississippi slowly moved toward the Gulf Of Mexico. The night was clear and somewhere above the streetlights there were stars, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse of many as she climbed into Cole’s Jeep and he drove her into the French Quarter. He located a parking spot nearly three blocks from Chez Michelle, then walked her inside where the wood-paneled cozy interior was packed with patrons. The scents of tomato sauce, cayenne pepper and sassafras tantalized her the minute she walked through the door.

A thin, friendly waitress led them past an open kitchen where chefs in white coats braised meat, broiled fish and sausage, and created sauces.

At a private table tucked in a back corner, Cole ordered the special mudbug appetizer and a pitcher of beer. “You’ll love them, I promise,” he said over the buzz of conversation and strains of jazz piped in from hidden speakers.

“I know what they are, counselor. You don’t scare me. I grew up on crawdads.”

“Did you, now?” he said, a bit of the devil in his eyes. Oh, it was so easy to fall back into this routine with him and, despite the holes in her memory, she did remember falling in love with him. Frosty mugs of beer and a bucket of bright red, spicy "mudbugs" were served and they both dug in, cracking the shells of the crayfish and dipping the tails into a succulent, hot pepper sauce. Eve ordered a spicy gumbo filled with seafood, sausage and okra while Cole chose the signature jambalaya.

For the first time all day, Eve relaxed and the headache she’d been fighting for weeks retreated. She and Cole talked about inconsequential things, neither wanting to tread too closely to the brutal murders, his life in prison or the complicated layers of their relationship.

For a few minutes, they were able to push the rest of the world and the nightmare surrounding them into the darkest corners of the night. She wondered where they would have been, what would have been the turns in their love affair if that one night had been different.

What if Roy hadn’t called her?

What if she hadn’t gone?

What if she hadn’t been so certain that Cole had been there, pistol in hand . . . ?

Roy’s throat had been slit, no bullet in his body, and yet she’d been shot from a handgun as yet unlocated. “ . . . so I’m hoping to move out of the dive as soon as I get back on my feet again,” he was saying, his blue eyes fixed on her on a way that made her shift in her chair.

“And move where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe.” She smiled up at him and knew she was flirting. Don’t do this, Eve, don’t be suckered in . . . It’s too soon. Too many horrible, unexplained things are still happening.

He winked at her and she melted inside. “We’ll see.”

They lingered over coffee and split a dessert of espresso-flavored creme brulee and pralines.

He paid for the meal with cash, then they walked outside to the balmy night. Cole linked his fingers with hers as they crossed the street. “So what do ya think?” he asked, heading toward his Jeep.

“About what?”

“Everything that’s going on.”

“Do we have to think about it?” she asked, hating the lighthearted spirit of the night to end.

"Don’t think we have a choice,” he said and the words were barely out of his mouth when her cell phone rang. She looked at the Caller ID screen and didn’t bother answering it. “Television station,” she said, groaning. “I don’t want to talk to them.”

“Then don’t.” He unlocked the door and just before she slid into the passenger side, she felt a little tremor in the air, as if someone were staring at her, sending her bad vibes. She paused and glanced down the street.

“What?” Cole twisted his head, picking up her unease. “You see something?”

Shaking her head, she said, “No. Just a weird, day. Too many awful things going on.”

He slammed the door shut and she kept her eyes on the side view mirror to the sidewalk that was illuminated by the streetlights.

She heard the clop-clop of hooves as a mule-drawn carriage creaked by.

A shadow appeared in the mirror.

Eve froze.

A tall, dark figure stepped out of the gloom for an instant. She twisted in her seat, but as she stared at the circle of light from the street lamp, a van rolled across the intersection, blocking into her line of vision for second. In that heartbeat, the shadowy figure disappeared. She saw nothing.

“Something is wrong,” Cole said tensely as he slid into the Jeep.

“No . . . yes . . . damn, I don’t know.”

“Tell me.” He fired the engine.

“I thought I saw someone, staring at me, but I could be wrong.”

“Let’s check it out.”