Page 55 of Walking the Edge

“I don’t think so. Let me concentrate on finding a parking space. Justin sounded anxious, and we don’t want him to give up on us and leave.”

“What’s his last name?” She studied the street ahead. “Les never mentioned a Justin to me.”

Her brother hadn’t mentioned a whole lot of things that could have helped her and Mitch find him. Mitch slipped past the stoplight on a yellow. “All I know is his first name.”

“Quick.” Cath turned in her seat. “Get over in the right lane.”

Mitch double-checked his side mirror. “There’s a delivery truck coming up on that side.”

“Just inch over. Put on your blinker. I’ll wave to him.” She lowered her window. The rumble of engines and the smell of exhaust filled the cab. She signaled the truck driver. “Get over now.”

Mitch angled his hood into the other lane. “We just passed two lots over on the left.”

“Keep driving.” In a few blocks she pointed to a ramp curling up the side of a building. “Turn in here.”

Mitch climbed the spiral and whipped into the first available parking spot. They skipped the elevator, ran down the stairs and racewalked along Decatur Street until they reached a crosswalk. He jogged across on the yellow and looked back to see Cath standing on the curb. Mitch checked the time, his gut cramping. Only a minute to go.

The light turned green and Cath ran over to him, her flushed cheeks matching the reddish sweater top that climbed her neck. “I had to wait. I’m not a ninja like someone I know.”

He stiffened. They did not know each other. They lusted after each other. He’d proved it by kissing her yesterday. She’d proved it by kissing him back. Smooching only complicated things, but he still stared at her moist, pink mouth a moment too long. Cath could rub her four-leaf clover all she wanted, but the charm wouldn’t protect her against him and his own brand of bad luck.

They hurried past the mule-drawn carriages to the empty corner in front of the old courthouse. She looked around. “Is this the meet spot?”

“So he said.” Mitch adjusted his mirrored sunglasses to look past the pink stucco of a well-known restaurant. A knot of tourists stood transfixed by the musicians in the street. No one seemed to be looking around for him. Had they missed Justin?

“I don’t see anyone who looks like a student.” Cath hitched her purse higher.

“Let’s wait a little.” They stood on the most exposed corner of the intersection. No cars had followed them up the spiral to the parking garage, but last night’s break-in at Cath’s office could have been rigged to draw her into the open. For another kidnap attempt? He took her arm, ready to steer into the crowd, when a flicker behind him made him pivot.

A slender guy in a black hoodie pounded toward them and stopped. “Are you Mitch?”

Mitch took in the student’s nondescript turtleneck and pants, the longish brown hair and black glasses. If he wasn’t hunched under a black hoodie, they’d never have noticed him. Mitch thrust out his hand. “That’s me.”

“You must be Justin. I’m Cath, Les’s sister.” She smiled.

“Yeah. Les talks a lot about you.” The kid bobbed his head.

“I guess you’re friends with my brother then?” Cath stepped closer, her expression hopeful. Don’t disappoint her, Justin. She deserves a break.

“We have some classes together, and”—Justin shrugged—“we do other things together.” The kid beckoned them down the block to the back entrance of the courthouse. He looked along the street, then stepped beneath the elaborate art-deco portico, pushing his glasses up his nose. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.” Mitch scanned the area but saw nothing to make anyone anxious.

“He needed a place to hide and wanted me to tell the disabled office he was sick.”

Disabled? Mitch glanced at Cath, a bowstring stretched taut in his chest. He regretted again being a jerk on his attempted arrest.

The hoodie zipper tracked up and down under Justin’s fingers. “I don’t want to get into trouble, but we’re good friends, you know?”

If Cath’s brother was staying with Justin, Les could be somewhere close. Mitch slipped his palm along the thigh pocket with the arrest warrant. He lifted a chin to indicate Chartres and St. Louis streets. “You live close? That why you wanted to meet here?”

“I had to come to the Quarter for a field trip.”

Cath stared at Justin. “Three days before Mardi Gras?”

“Talk to my history prof. He’s the one who arranged it. I meant Les stayed in my dorm room.”

On the uptown campus. Nowhere close to where they stood. Mitch leaned against the cold marble of the court building.

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