CHAPTER EIGHT
Camille was rather fascinated with how much more familiar the city started to feel the more she was driven through it. It was nearing 5:00 in the evening as they made their way to the address the bartender had given them, and traffic was getting worse. She did not envy Palmer the task of driving through it.
“Let’s hope this Oliver character is one of those work-from-home types,” Palmer said from behind the wheel. “I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to have to waste more time finding out where he works. I’d love to figure this one out before dark.”
Camille nodded. She recalled how lively New Orleans got at night—particularly the French Quarter—and though she could see the appeal of it to most people, it was just not for her. Much had changed about the area, but
