Something about the tone of his voice made her glance up. Was that meant to be a double entendre? It was hard to tell because he wasn’t even looking at her. He had his eyes down on his camera and he was prying the lens cap off. But there had been an edge of amusement, or an awareness of the horrific irony, maybe the need to lighten the subject matter . . . she wasn’t sure what exactly, because Gabriel was hard to interpret, but something told her he had just made a joke.

Which she liked.

He lifted his camera, shot a quick succession of photos from right to left, the last one of her. She wasn’t prepared for it, so she was sure she was staring dumbly at him in it. “No pictures of me, please.”

“But the light’s good,” he said, giving her another of those tiny smiles where the corner of his mouth lifted crookedly.

God, Sara really didn’t want to like him.

That would be just one more way for her to trip and fall.

But she was definitely in danger of becoming a bubble girl of her own making, afraid of everything, even her own proverbial shadow.

Coming to New Orleans was an emotional risk, and maybe it hadn’t been running away so much as stepping outside her comfort zone. Forcing herself to face the future without fear.

She was definitely still terrified, but suddenly reassured that this trip had been exactly what she needed to retake control of her life.

VIGILANCE COMMITTEE PRESSURES POLICE TO TAKE ACTION

October 9, 1849—While the police commissioner may not be inclined to listen to the pleas of prostitutes, it would seem he is willing to bend when the collective voices of the VIGILANCE COMMITTEE cry for action. In a city besieged by crime, it is more common than not for a murder of a fallen woman to go unnoticed, but it is just that cavalier attitude that has finally sent certain citizens beyond the edge of their tolerance. Comprised of various wealthy and influential peoples, the Vigilance Committee was formed to bring attention to the spiraling immorality and violence of certain districts. The murder of young Anne Donovan, in its fury and grotesqueness, and the lack of arrest of the gentleman who should by all accounts be a primary suspect, is a sign of the pervasive corruption and complicity in our government.

Given the dependence of Mr. John Thiroux on the well-known hallucinogenic drink absinthe, as well as his excessive consumption of whiskey and frequent opium smoking, it is not a stretch to imagine he could have carried out such an act of violence. Despite who he is, and who he may or may not have contributed funds to, if a man commits a crime, he should be held accountable for it.