Yet why would he think anything else given that she hadn’t spoken to him in five weeks? She wasn’t sure. But he was the one who had left without saying good-bye. And she had understood why he had done that, and she was certain he would understand why she hadn’t called. They had never been demanding of each other, and that was part of what made her relationship with him so comfortable.

It was all good. She was going to talk to him, express the concerns she still had about the murders, ask him all her many questions about who and what he was, and make him an offer.

Hopefully it would be one he couldn’t refuse.

Gabriel lay on his living room floor staring at the ceiling. There was a vicious crack up there he’d never noticed. Interesting that he and the building, this apartment, had existed together in New Orleans through a hundred and fifty years. Through addiction, murder, hurricanes, they had survived, and they had both changed so very little. There was a defiance to them now, a stubbornness to stand stronger and sturdier in the face of such small expectations from the world, to be exactly as they pleased. Or maybe that was just him.

Or more likely still that he needed to stop working sixteen-hour days and roaming around the Quarter for hours on end. It wasn’t really all that normal to be lying on the floor, but it felt good. He felt good. He had just wanted to stretch out while he edited the first three chapters of his manuscript, so he had printed them out and read them above his head, enjoying the hardwood pressing into his spine, forcing his muscles to relax. Eventually he had stopped reading and had taken to just staring at the ceiling, just thinking.

He was pleased with his progress on the book. The first draft was written. Since it was going to be his last true crime book, he wanted it to be solid, something he and Sara could both be satisfied with. And the sooner he was done, the sooner he would have a legitimate reason to contact Sara, which he really wanted to do. He wanted desperately to hear her voice, just to talk, but he had to give her the space she needed.

Even if it sucked.

There was a knock on his door. Probably his landlord. He had been hanging around the building for two days overseeing some repairs.

“Come in,” Gabriel called, no intention of getting up. He was extremely comfortable on the floor.

The door opened and he heard, “Gabriel?”