“Meredith?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you standing in front of the highway?”
“Oh, sorry,” she said before the sounds in the distance suddenly muffled. “That’s Johnston Street.”
His brows shot up. “You’re on Johnston Street?”
“No, I’m on the bike path in front of Blackham Coliseum.”
The bike path, Gray knew, was set back from the road, cutting into the grounds of the coliseum, but what was she doing there on the phone with him?
“You’re riding your bike? At night?”
Her laughter spilled over the line, and the sound reminded him of Mardi Gras doubloons and Saturday mornings. “No, I’m going for a walk.”
His musings of her laugh vanished. “Not by yourself.” It was a statement, not a question. A girl who gave her best friend the address of her job interview wouldn’t walk alone at night in the middle of town.
“Yeah, but I don’t live far.” Her tone dismissed his concern so easily Gray had to draw up a map in his mind. Where could she live that was close enough to make it reasonably safe to walk alone in front of Blackham Coliseum?
“Where’s your house? On Twin Oaks?” he asked, picturing the upscale neighborhood near Our Lady of Fatima Church. She was on the wrong side of Johnston Street, but maybe…
She laughed again. She may have even snorted. “Hardly. I live on Dean.”
“Dean?” he echoed, frowning.
“Off St. Landry,” she explained.
Gray closed his eyes and scanned the map in his head. His eyes snapped open. “You mean right by where Mickey Shunick was attacked?!”
He heard Meredith sigh. “Yes… at two in the morning… by a serial killer.”
“You shouldn’t be walking around at night alone,” he said, feeling like her boss for the first time.
“It’s barely eight o’clock—”
“It’s dark,” he cut in. “That’s all an asshole needs. Believe me. I grew up in New Orleans.”
She pushed back. “Well, Lafayette isn’t New Orleans.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s safe.”
Lafayette was a good city. An amazing city. He’d fallen in love with it five years ago just after college when he’d signed up with AmeriCorps. He’d worked at Habitat for Humanity that summer.
And after Cecilia died, he hadn’t been able stay in New Orleans, but Lafayette felt like home.
The city had a soul — just like NOLA, but it was simpler in so many ways. Music and art. Food and drink. These spilled out onto the sidewalks of downtown, too, but without the stench of urine at every corner or the death-defying potholes on each street. Lafayette was cleaner, saner, and far less-crowded.
Still, it wasn’t Mayberry.
Rape. Murder. Kidnapping. Those horrors lived here, too. Lafayette even bore the unforgettable scar of a mass shooting. So Gray didn’t like the idea of Meredith walking alone at night, especially so far from help.
“There are people jogging and riding bikes all around me,” she said, sounding a little smug.
Gray pictured the bike path and all of the spots along the way that left her vulnerable.
“Do you do this a lot?” He heard the stern tone of his own voice, and he tried to master it. “Walk down St. Landry and around the coliseum at night? By yourself?”
