CHAPTER FIFTEENLindsey climbed out of bed and padded to the window. He looked out toward the French Quarter and the Mississippi River just beyond. The predicted storm had arrived from the Gulf of Mexico, perhaps more rapidly than anticipated. The sky was almost black, what little light there was scattered by thick storm clouds. A gust of wind blew a sheet of water against Lindsey’s window and he jumped back, his reflexes overriding the knowledge that he was safe and dry in his hotel room.
He looked down into Royal Street. The prospect was dark except for rows of evenly spaced street lamps. A man was standing in the rain across the street, looking up at Lindsey’s hotel. A flash of lightning illuminated the street and Lindsey got a brief, clear look at the man’s face.
There was no question
