“Of course,” Eileen replied, smiling.
“And this is my colleague, Nikki Blackhawk,” Adam continued.
“How do you do,” Nikki said, smiling warmly.
“Thank you for inviting me to join you,” Eileen said. The words were sincere. Given her power and position, Eileen could have dinner with the city’s most elite residents, but Leslie thought she understood the other woman. She didn’t want to be surrounded by the wealthy and powerful, forced to smile and nod and talk about the important events of the day. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. But joining them was different.
“I think we share a friend,” Eileen said, sliding into the booth across from Leslie.
“Joe? I know he’s working for you,” Leslie said.
Eileen nodded.
“He will find out what happened to Genevieve, you know.” Leslie reached across the table and laid her hand over Eileen’s in a gesture of assurance as she spoke.
She wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Her vision seemed to disappear, not in darkness, but in a flash of light. She didn’t see Eileen’s inner soul or her past; she saw Genevieve.
The other woman was standing in a black abyss, and it was damp and cold.
Like a grave.
But she wasn’t dead.
Her hair was twisted away from her face, knotted at her nape. She was thin and haggard-looking, but she was at work, her hands busy as she tore at something unseen. She worked and worked and worked….
And then gave way to exhaustion, falling to her knees, sobbing.
Leslie drew her hand back as the vision faded to total blackness.
“Are you all right, dear?” Eileen Brideswell asked. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Leslie forced a smile. Not a ghost. A living woman. Genevieve.
She couldn’t say that. Eileen would think that she was insane. Worse. That she was offering her false hope, playing on her emotions.
“I’m fine. Sorry.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor,” Eileen said. “I saw on the news that you were in an accident at the dig when the roof gave way, and then I heard about that dreadful incident on the subway.”
“I’m fine. Honestly,” Leslie said. “But thank you so much for your concern.” She saw the pub door open and Joe walk in. He was scanning the room, looking for her. She could see the light reflect off his hair. Light, but not as blond as Matt’s. No, he was darker. His eyes were a quicksilver shade between blue and green. Matt’s had been such a piercing color; they had seemed to go from the color of the sky to indigo.
What the hell was she doing?
He strode over the table, seeming to note without surprise that Eileen was there, too, before he reached them. Leslie quickly introduced Joe to Nikki and Adam, who rose to shake his hand. She knew that Joe was assessing them warily, and that he would remain wary until he had spent more time with them.
“Mrs. Brideswell,” he said.
“Joe, I’m glad to see you.” She tried to be casual, but her voice was anxious.
Joe looked unhappy. Leslie knew he was desperately wishing he had something concrete to tell her, even though she wouldn’t come right out in this company and ask him how he was progressing. She tilted her head questioningly, and there was so much hope in that small gesture.
“I think we’re coming along,” Joe said softly.
“Really? Can you come see me tomorrow morning and tell me how things are going?” she asked him.
He hesitated.
Adam said, “Nikki and I will be with Leslie tonight, and we’ll be with her tomorrow morning at the dig.”
“Sure. How about nine?” Joe suggested.
“Right here,” Eileen said. She smiled self-consciously. “This place is my comfort zone. And it’s the only pub I know that opens for breakfast. Good business, though, with everyone who works downtown.”
Joe slid into the booth next to Leslie. She could feel the tension in his body.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Later,” he murmured. Then, louder, “It’s great to meet some of Leslie’s friends. Are you both archaeologists, too?”
“Historian,” Adam said.
“And I run a company that leads ghost tours in New Orleans,” Nikki said.
“Ghost tours?” Joe said. “Interesting. How’s the city doing? I’ve heard a lot of people still haven’t moved back.”
Joe, Leslie realized, intended to talk about anything but what was going on. Eileen Brideswell was watching him, a slight frown creasing her brow, but she seemed equally glad not to be discussing matters that tore at her heart.
Joe, however casual he pretended to be, remained tense throughout the meal, watching the door.
“Are we being joined by anyone else?” he asked Leslie at one point.
She shook her head.
“Your work buddies are elsewhere?”