“That definitely was a yes,” he said, leading her out of the cottage to his car. He leaned in and plucked the single rose off the seat, opening the door for her and handing her the rose. “For you.”

Jennifer took the rose with a smile. “Thank you.”

He got in the car, leering at her. “I have half a mind to skip dinner and go directly to dessert.”

“I’m hungry.” She glanced sideways and raked her teeth over her lower lip. “Besides, we can have dessert later.”

Steve raised his eyebrow. “That so?”

“Aye-up,” she answered as he turned the car around.

Steve audibly inhaled and focused on navigating the winding driveway. “How’d it go with Bill and Tracy?” He pulled onto the road.

“Uneventful. I didn’t say much. Just that you didn’t like me very much and the feeling is mutual.”

“That must have killed them,” he replied. In the little time he’d been exposed to Tracy, he picked up that she had to know everything that was going on or she wasn’t happy. “Tracy’s a journalism major, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He shrugged. “I bet she’ll end up doing entertainment news.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s a busy-body, has to have her hand on the pulse of everything and the juicier the information, the more she gets off on it.” He paused. “Regular news just isn’t that glamorous.”

He summed up Tracy in one sentence and Jennifer laughed.

“What made you choose acting?” He glanced over at her.

“I got the bug when I did a high school play my sophomore year. I loved to dance in the recitals, but this was different. I was so scared I actually threw up before my first performance but when I stepped on the stage, everything changed. It was such a rush, having all eyes on me, having people hanging on my every word or note I sang, and at the end, the applause. Steve, the applause is like a drug. It put me in a different state of being and I crave that feeling.”

“You mean I’m falling in love with an applause junkie?”

Jennifer looked over at him with her jaw askew. “What did you just say?”

“You’re an applause junkie?” he replied cautiously. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“That’s not what you said.” She crossed her arms and stared at him, her lips forming an adorable pout and he turned his attention back to the road without comment.

“Did you mean it?”

Steve didn’t respond until he had parked the car in the parking lot of the restaurant. “I should bring you with me the next time I interrogate someone. You seem to be able to get the most intriguing information without trying.”

“Did you mean it?” she asked in measured beats.

He finally looked at her when he got out of the car. “I don’t know.” He closed the car door and waited for her to get out.

Jennifer looked at the rose in her hand and decided to let it go for the moment.

* * * *

“What do you want, Steve?” She swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip, looking over the rim at him.

He sighed and sat back. “I can’t think beyond the job right now, Jen. I need to concentrate on what I was sent here to do.” He took a sip of his drink. “Before someone else disappears.”

He was pulling away again and she felt it. “So today…” She drifted off and her vision blurred from the welling tears. She blinked them back.

“Today was the best day I’ve had in over two years,” he replied. “Minus getting hit in the face.” He smiled a little.

“But?”

“But, I can’t focus on you.” He scanned her again. “As much as I’d like to…,” he trailed off and took another sip of his wine. “Pledge week ends Thursday and initiation is on Friday. Over the last four years, more than half of the disappearances occurred during pledge week. I’m running out of time.”

“I still think you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“I don’t think so, Jen.” He paused as the waitress approached and he ordered for both of them in flawless French. Steve continued after the waitress left. “I’m not off base on this. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?” Jennifer asked with her head tilted slightly, looking at him over her wine glass.

“Yes,” Steve said without hesitation.

“Then tell me what you said in the car.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You know what I said,” he whispered in her ear and sat back down.

Jennifer’s smile froze and everything in front of her line of vision disappeared.

She stood on the edge of a clearing, instantly recognizing it from her nightmare. Trembling, she watched a young girl dressed in shorts and a t-shirt push her way through the thick brush into the clearing.

The water rippled and a black form rose from the depths of the pond. Jennifer wanted to scream, wanted to tell the little girl to run and run fast, but her voice locked in her throat. All she could do was stare at the beast in silent horror.

When it stepped onto the moss, the girl found her voice. A shrill cry, a cry of panic, of fear, of terror belted from her lips. And she ran into the woods, still wailing. The thing followed, agile and fast. The sharp siren cut off moments later and the sudden silence broken only by wet sounds of flesh being stripped from bone.

A sharp pain in Jennifer’s hand brought her back to the restaurant and she looked down. A shard of the broken wine glass stuck out of the meaty part of her palm near her thumb.

Steve took her hand and pulled the glass out. He grabbed his napkin, pouring ice water on it and wrapped it around her palm. Pressing gently to stop the flow of blood, he looked warily at her as the color returned to her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The restaurant staff hustled around to clean up the glass, issuing apologies.

No, I’m not okay. Instead of voicing her thought, she shrugged.

Steve allowed the manager to escort them to the office where he took a closer look at the cut. The blood was already clotting, but the manager pulled out a first aid kit just in case. Steve took over and cleaned the wound, putting a band-aid over it. He glanced into her clear and confused eyes. “Can you give us a minute?” Steve asked the manager as he stood. The manager nodded and said they would have another table ready in a moment. “Thank you,” Steve said. He watched the manager leave the office and then turned his attention back to Jennifer.

Jennifer stared at the bandage on her hand.

“You broke the glass.”

“I got that much,” Jennifer replied.

He waited.

“A…a little girl around ni…nine or ten, reddish blonde hair and a…a tie-dye t-shirt…was there a child like that on the missing per…persons list?” Jennifer asked without looking at him.

“No, why?”

Jennifer lifted her eyes to his. “There will be,” she said.

* * * *

Her eyes tilted back in her head exposing just the whites. Steve quickly wrapped his arm around her. Jennifer slumped against him and he shuddered, reliving her transition at the table. The loss of color from both her cheeks and lips and the death-like quality that shrouded her eyes freaked him out. He shook off the shock and reached for the first aid kit and grabbed a smelling salt, broke it between his index finger and thumb and waved it under her nose.

Jennifer moved her head violently away from the foul smell and came around. “Dear god, what is that?” She pushed his hand away.

“Smelling salts.” Steve stepped away from her and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He closed the door before picking up the pen and pad on the desk and pulling the manager’s chair in front of where she sat. “Tell me what you saw.”

Each word, each description that fell from Jennifer’s lips brought a new wave of dread through Steve, tightening his chest. She described in detail the scene, right down to the little girl’s dirt-laden Keds. She jumped when the manager knocked on the door and called out to them in French.