Page 6 of Midnight at the Magnolia

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to grab her hand. Instead, I shrug, maintaining the game. “Just that the coffee here is excellent. And the company’s... intriguing.” I pause, watching her closely. “Though I have to say, your friend Gregory seems like a real charmer. Does he always share his criminal masterplans so freely, or am I just special?”

Celeste smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “You know, Agent Ethan, New Orleans has a way of drawing people in. Making them see things that aren’t there. Watch yourself. This city’s quicksand for the unprepared.”

Her words send a chill down my spine, at odds with the heat her proximity generates.

Warning? Threat? Or invitation?

“Well, isn’t that delightful?” I murmur, matching her tone. “I do so love a challenge, Celeste. And something tells me you’re the most dangerous puzzle this city has to offer.”

Then Gregory’s voice shatters the moment. “Hey, Celeste! Tell your new friend about that weird thing last week. The guy who dropped dead right outside.”

I freeze, coffee cup halfway to my lips. Slowly, I turn to study Celeste. Her face has gone pale, but it’s more than fear—it’scalculation. She’s running scenarios, just like I’ve seen countless suspects do in interrogation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gregory,” she says, voice tight. The transformation is startling—gone is the confident seductress, replaced by something more complex, more dangerous.

But Gregory, drunk and oblivious, won’t let it go. “Sure you do! Remember? The suit, kinda like this guy here. One minute fine, the next—bam! Face-down on the sidewalk.”

I set my cup down with deliberate care. “Is that true, Celeste? Did you witness one of the deaths?” I lean in, dropping my voice. “And here I thought we were becoming such good friends. You’ve been holding out on me, darling.”

Her eyes dart between me and Gregory like a cornered animal. But no—more like a predator assessing threats. “It... it wasn’t like that,” she stammers, her usual poise cracking. “The man just collapsed. Heart attack, probably. Nothing unusual.”

The lie sits between us, heavy as a loaded gun. I can see it in her eyes, in the tremble of her hands—she knows something. Something worth killing for.

“Celeste,” I say, voice low and intense. I reach out, gently grasping her wrist. Her pulse races beneath my fingers, a rhythm that matches the pounding in my chest. “Level with me. I can’t fight your demons if I don’t know what they look like.”

For a moment, I think she might break. Vulnerability flashes across her face, real emotion bleeding through the cracks in her armor. The urge to protect her wars with my investigator’s instincts.

Lauren’s voice whispers:That’s how they get you. That’s how I got got.

But then the moment passes. Celeste straightens, pulling free from my grasp. Her face settles into practiced confusion,the vulnerable woman I’d glimpsed vanishing behind southern charm.

“I’m sorry, Agent Ethan, but I really don’t know anything more.” She steps back, professional distance restored. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other customers.”

As she walks away, I feel a potent mix of frustration and admiration. Celeste is hiding something, that much is clear. But she’s also brilliant, complex in ways that both intrigue and unsettle me.

Like Lauren said:The dangerous ones always are.

I finish my coffee in silence, mind racing. This case is deeper than I thought, and I have a feeling Celeste is somehow at its heart. She’s a crossword puzzle with half the clues missing, and every answer spells trouble.

Standing to leave, I catch her eye one final time. The look we share crackles with unspoken tension—attraction, suspicion, challenge. A silent promise that this is far from over.

I know I’ll be back. Not just for the case, but for her. Celeste is a mystery I need to unravel, even if it kills me. And in this city of voodoo and secrets, it just might.

The night air hits me like a physical force as I step outside. My gut screams that I’m missing something obvious, just like with Lauren’s case. The difference is, this time I’m not letting it go. This time, I’m going to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

Back in my car, the city’s neon heartbeat pulses around me. Three impossible deaths, an art heist in the works, and a waitress who moves like a trained operative. Who notices shoulder holsters and counts exits and speaks in carefully coded warnings.

Welcome to New Orleans, Agent Blake.

The game is on.

And Celeste?

She might just be the most dangerous player of all.

3

CELESTE

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