“You don’t know how right you are about that.” Her smile faltered a bit. Once seated, she shoved her sunglasses onto the top of her head so that she could look him in the eye. “So the reason I came looking for you,” she said, and once again he was taken aback at how direct she was, “is that I want to take you up on your offer. Of help in finding Zoe and Chloe Denning.”

“And the 21 Killer?”

“God, I hope I’m wrong about that son of a bitch.” She stuffed a straw into her glass. “I mean, I don’t believe Donovan is 21, no way. But I hope to high heaven that the 21 Killer is not in New Orleans and that . . . I hope he didn’t target Zoe and Chloe.” Sadness darkened her eyes, and she bit her lip for a second before her shoulders straightened. “So,” she said, obviously turning her thoughts from the fate of the missing twins. “Here’s the deal: You help me find Zoe and Chloe, and I’ll give you an exclusive to my side of the story. But there’s a catch.”

“There always is.” Leaning back in his chair, sipping his black coffee, Jase watched the play of emotions that crossed her even features.

“We have to run everything by Selma, their mother. And if . . . I mean, when the girls are located, you’ll need to get their approval, too. My deal is only good for what I’m doing now.”

“In exchange for my help?” he clarified.

“Right, with all your resources.” She drank some of her iced tea, then unwrapped her beignet. “You have access through the paper to all sorts of news information that I don’t.”

“Just about everyone who has the Internet does.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you guys—” As she licked powdered sugar from her fingers, he tried not to stare. “You get it first. You know, lightning quick.” She snapped her fingers to make a point. “And that’s just to begin with.” Another swallow of tea. “I’m willing to bet you have sources in the police department. And I’m not talking about the usual statements and reports generated by the department. My guess is you have someone inside.”

“A leak?”

“Call it what you will.” A lift of her shoulders. More tea.

“I’m trying to land a job there,” he reminded her.

“Regardless. And you’re not employed by the City of New Orleans yet. In fact, you’re still on the payroll of the Observer, still trying to ferret out the news and get it printed, including the story on the Denning twins and 21.

“I did some research on you, Bridges. You’re pretty good at what you do. You dig deep. Aren’t afraid of stepping on toes. You go after the truth, guns blazing. So, yeah, I decided I want you on my side.”