“Say cheese grits!” Lorna told the group, and they all smiled. Katie gave the five-year-old a few apple pieces and boosted her up on a knee so she could give the mule the treats.

“Café du Monde is right across the street,” the dad said, tour director, so it seemed, for the group.

“Enjoy your beignets!” Katie said cheerfully, and they all waved and headed off.

“Thank you,” the mom called back, smiling. “You were the best!” she added nicely. “I mean, the very best. Those are great stories you tell. Thanks again.”

“No, thank you,” Katie told her. She smiled. Her stories were good, and she did have her history down pat. She had a little unusual help when it came to the stories she told that were part of NOLA lore. A little inside info she really couldn’t share with anyone.

It wasn’t that she wouldn’t.

It was that she really couldn’t.

Over the years, one thing therapy had taught her was there were things you could share—and some you needed to keep to yourself because others might think that they were unbelievable.

And that you needed more and intensive therapy.

The entire group turned around one last time after they’d crossed Decatur Street to Café du Monde. They waved in unison. She waved back.

Then her group was gone, and before anyone else could approach either of them, Lorna slipped her arm through Katie’s, drawing her back from the sidewalk and against the fence that surrounded Jackson Square.

“Lorna, what’s wrong?” Katie demanded of her friend.

“I’m so sorry, but you’re going to hear this soon enough, and I don’t want you taken off guard... I mean, nothing can ease this, but...”

“But what, Lorna? You’re babbling. I mean, thank you for sparing my feelings. Oh, no! Jeremy—is Jeremy okay?”

“Your cousin is fine. He called a few seconds ago. He wanted to know if we were together. It’s already on the news—”

“What is? Lorna, please!” Katie said, frustrated and worried.

Lorna sighed. “Brutal murders in the Marigny. Cops are there now. The media isn’t getting much, but you can see there isn’t one cop car here where there are usually a dozen and... Oh, Katie! There’s been no official police announcement yet, but...they believe everyone in the house was killed sometime last night. Um...murdered with an axe...”

Her voice trailed.

Lorna had been Katie’s friend since she had come to live with her dad’s cousin, Jeremy Delaney, after her parents had been killed. The girls had been in the same class in high school; they’d even chosen to go to Tulane together.

Of course, Lorna knew Katie’s family history. That her parents had been murdered and the killer had never been caught.