“What are these?” I ask.

“Beignets,” says Lucas.

I pick one up, the fried dough hot beneath my fingers, and bite down.

The beignet melts a little in my mouth, hot dough and sugar, crispier than a doughnut and twice as sweet. I try to say how good it is, but my mouth is too full, and I end up breathing out a tiny cloud of powdered sugar. It is heaven.

Jacob eyes the beignet mournfully as I pop the rest in my mouth. He folds his arms and mutters something like “Not fair.”

Lucas takes one, and somehow manages to eat it without spilling sugar all over himself, which I’m pretty sure is a kind of superpower. Even Dad, who’s a bit of a neat freak, has to dust some powder off his sleeve.

Mom, meanwhile, looks like she walked through a snowstorm. Sugar dots her nose and her chin; there’s even some on her forehead. I snap a photo, and she winks.

My own shirt is streaked with white, my hands sticky, but it was totally worth it.

“Well, Professor Dumont,” says Mom, wiping her hands. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Our guide steeples his fingers.

“It’s hard to live in a place like this and not believe in something, but I prefer to focus on the history.”

It’s a very diplomatic answer.

“Better than my husband,” says Mom. “He doesn’t believe in any of it.”

Lucas lifts a brow. “Is that so, Professor Blake? Even after all your travels?”

Dad shrugs. “As you said, I prefer to focus on the history. That part, at least, I know is real.”

“Ah,” says Lucas. “But history is written by the victors. How can we know what really happened if we weren’t there? We are, all of us, speculating …”

At that point, Dad and Lucas launch into a deep discussion about the “lens of history” (Dad) and the past as a “living document” (Lucas) and I stop paying attention.

The show binder sits on the table, the cover dusted with streaks of sugar. I pull it toward me, flipping past Scotland and France to the third episode, marked by a single red tab.

THE INSPECTERS

EPISODE THREE

LOCATION: NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

“LAND OF LOST SOULS”

“Well, that’s promising,” says Jacob, reading over my shoulder as I skim the list of filming locations.

1) THE PLACE D’ARMES

2) MURIEL’S RESTAURANT

3) ST. LOUIS NO. 1, NO. 2, NO. 3

4) LAFAYETTE CEMETERY

5) THE OLD URSULINE CONVENT

6) THE LALAURIE MANSION

It all sounds fairly innocent, but I know by now that looks can be deceiving.

When the beignets are gone and the glasses are empty, everyone gets to their feet. Lucas dusts off his hands, even though he doesn’t have a speck of sugar on him.

“See you tonight?” asks Dad.

“Indeed,” says Lucas. “I think you’ll find this is a different city after dark.”

* * *

That night, Lucas is waiting for us in the hotel lobby, along with our film crew: a guy and a girl, a mismatched pair, linked only by the cameras hanging from their hands. They introduce themselves as Jenna and Adan. Jenna is small and bubbly and white, the ends of her black hair dyed electric blue, and a dozen silver chains draped around her neck. Adan is a giant, a towering guy in a black T-shirt, tattoos wrapping every inch of his olive skin.