“Un moment, s’il vous plait,” Steve replied, his eyes locked with Jennifer’s. He glanced at the notes and ripped the sheet off the pad, folding and stuffing it in his pocket. He put the pad and pen back on the desk and opened the door. “Sorry, she got a little shaky after the fact,” he explained to the manager.

“Do you want to eat here?” Steve asked turning his head toward Jennifer. “Or do you want me to get the food to go?”

“To go.” Her eyes filled with tears.

The manager nodded and stepped away. A few moments later, he came back with a bag of food packaged for them.

Steve reached for his wallet.

“No monsieur, this is on us.” The manager offered Jennifer a slight smile and returned his attention to Steve.

Steve nodded. “Merci beaucoup.” He took the bag and put his arm around Jennifer’s waist, leading her to the car.

They drove in silence back to the cottage. He parked and grabbed the bag, heading inside, and stopping at the door to look back at her. He swung the door open and she walked into the dark room. Steve handed her the bag as he closed the door. “Wait here.”

Jennifer heard him shuffling around and then saw a flicker of light. The hurricane lamp he held let off a soft glow. He adjusted the height of the flame.

“There isn’t any electricity yet.” He offered an awkward shrug. “I never got around to turning the service back on.” He took the bag out of her hand and led her to the breakfast nook, helping her into a chair. He furrowed his brow in thought. “What really happened back there?” he asked, rummaging through the silverware drawer, sitting down and handing her a fork and a knife.

“I’m not really sure.” She picked at the food in the to-go container, taking a small bite despite her total lack of hunger. “This is delicious.” She pointed her fork at her dinner.

He pulled a bottle of wine out of the bag with a smile. “I guess they really didn’t want a lawsuit.” Leaning back in his chair, he opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener, proceeding to uncork the wine. He retrieved a pair of dusty glasses from the cabinet and un-tucked his shirt, wiping the dust off with the tail.

Jennifer watched him go through the motions of dinner. “I freaked you out,” she finally said after he poured the wine and downed his glass, reaching to refill it again.

Steve laughed and nodded. “And I’m not easily unnerved.”

“I’m sorry for ruining the evening,” Jennifer said. She returned her attention to the meal.

“I actually like this better than the restaurant.” He smiled at her. “But I have more questions for you.”

Jennifer looked sharply at him. He sat with one arm slung over the back of the chair, while the other held the wine glass, slowly swirling the liquid around. He tilted his head studying her.

“What happened at the restaurant, Jennifer?” He asked with a disarming smile.

* * * *

Realization set in and irritation crept over her skin. The calm smooth cadence of his voice was marred by the sharp suspicious interest in his eyes. He was drilling her for information—as if she was a suspect. What the fuck? “You’re interrogating me?” She pushed the chair back to leave.

“Sit down!” Steve slammed the wine glass on the table. Fury blazed in his eyes, transforming his rugged features into a frightening mask of anger.

Jennifer stood and headed toward the door, hell-bent on getting away from him and his enraged glare.

Steve grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, and she reacted, her black-belt training taking over with his sudden, less than gentle maneuver. But he easily sidestepped her attempt at another Osoto Gari and she found herself face down on the floor with her hands clasped behind her back. Cold metal ensnared her wrist followed by the click of the handcuffs and panic set in. “What are you doing?”

Steve hauled her into the kitchen chair, threading the cuffs through the back spindles and fastening them around the free wrist he held. He stormed out of the room and came back a few seconds later with two photographs, slamming them on the table in front of her. “She wasn’t among the missing—she was one of the ones we found. Her name was Amy and she disappeared a month ago. She wandered away from her parents’ campsite and was found a few days later.”

Jennifer’s wide shocked eyes gaped at the photographs, twitching from the picture of the smiling girl to the second of something torn to pieces, bloody and mangled. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand at all until her eyes landed on the bloody discarded sneaker. Her gaze shot up to Steve in horror. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Jennifer repeated over and over. Trembling, all the heat in her face drained and she pushed the chair away from the table with her feet.

“How could you know so much detail, Jennifer?”

Jennifer stared at him and the tears flowed down her cheeks. He thinks I did this. “I wasn’t in Brooksfield last month. I was in New York.”

Steve stepped back, blinking rapidly, his gaze bouncing between her and pictures on the table.

The tears continued. “How could you possibly think I could do that?” she sobbed, hanging her head.

He pulled open his cell phone and made a call. “I need you to verify the whereabouts of someone from July fifteenth to August fifteenth. Jennifer Curtis, date of birth July 16, 1986. Permanent address, 174 Evergreen Lane, Norwalk, Connecticut. Call me back when you have the information.” His eyes, narrow and questioning, never left her. She continued to sob.

“How could you think that?” She raised her tear-stained face to meet his suspicious glare.

* * * *

Doubt as strong as an arrow to his heart knocked him back another step.

The phone rang and he flipped it open. “That was quick,” he said, and listened. Steve stepped forward, took the pictures off the table, and left the room. He tucked them away in his briefcase in the bedroom and closed his eyes. “What about Tracy Sheehan or her father?” he asked softly. “I asked Jack to check into them for me. Were they in Brooksfield during that time?” He waited on the line this time. He got an answer, although it wasn’t what he anticipated. He closed the phone slowly. They were in New York at the same time as Jennifer.

He hung his head. “Shit.” Putting the phone back in his pocket, he glanced toward the kitchen and pondered what this really meant.

Steve crossed to the kitchen and pulled a chair over near Jennifer. He didn’t want to un-cuff her just yet. He studied his hands and when he raised his eyes, she returned his gaze, the tears still slowly trailing down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“Un-cuff me. I want to go.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Now!” The anger kicked in full force, stopping the flow of tears.

“You described her in detail, Jen, what the hell was I supposed to think?” His eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

Jennifer went to say something and closed her mouth. She took a deep breath and exhaled, her gaze softening. “I see things,” she said. “I told you that earlier.”

Steve closed his eyes and lowered his head, trying to comprehend what she was saying. He opened his eyes with a deep breath. “I am at a loss here,” he admitted. “Things are black and white for me and this…this is a shade of gray I have never run into before. It’s not tangible, so it’s hard for me to accept.” He leaned back, glancing at her. “You have visions of what happened?”

“Glimpses.”

“Can you describe who did this?”

Jennifer thought a moment and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what I saw.” The beast she saw in the vision couldn’t possibly exist. It had to be a manifestation of her imagination, a personification of evil. “But it’s evil.” She looked at him. “And the same thing I saw in my nightmare earlier.”

Steve sighed. “Tell me about the nightmare.” He put his hands on his knees.