They listened to the waves in silence.

Steve slowly opened his eyes and sighed. “Something changed over the last couple of years in Brooksfield. Something set off this chain of events.”

“Tom and Peg died.”

Steve nodded. Both their lives changed drastically two years ago. The disappearances stepped up two years ago, and he wondered if there was a connection.

“Do you think there’s a connection?”

“Hmm?” He pulled to the side so he could look at her face.

“You and me. A connection. Two years ago, both of our lives were turned upside down.”

Steve glanced back at the water and squeezed her tighter. “I doubt it.” He kissed her cheek. “Come on.” He stood and helped her up.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to Brooksfield,” he said, and let out a sigh. Jennifer’s vision stroked his need to get back on the case, to prevent another disaster, another Amy, but the peace of the Maine shoreline pulled at him, offering him a reprieve from the horror attacking Brooksfield.

“I don’t really want to go back.”

His gaze met hers. “Neither do I, but I have class in the morning,” he said and opened the car door for her.

“We could get up real early?”

Steve laughed, tempted. He slipped into the driver’s seat and glanced at the ocean, lulling him. “I can’t,” he said. “I shouldn’t have taken this drive with everything going on, but you needed a little distance.” He backtracked past Long Sands and the little harbor, heading toward the highway.

The buzzing of a cell phone filled the car and Steve dug his cell phone from his pocket, and glanced at the display before bringing the receiver to his ear. “Hey, Murphy.”

“We’ve gotten word of a couple missing kids…,” Murphy said on the other line.

“Let me guess. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl?”

The silence on the other end confirmed his question. Steve sent a glance in Jennifer’s direction and took a deep breath. “I should be back in Brooksfield in a little over an hour.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“I took Jennifer to York, Maine. I thought the salt air would help alleviate the asthma,” he said. “Where do you want me when I get back?” he asked, hoping his boss would say the apartment.”

“Meet me at your lake house and then I want you at that fraternity tonight,” Murphy snapped. “I need you to find out what the hell’s going on.”

“Yes sir,” Steve said with no enthusiasm. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He flipped the phone closed and as soon as he merged onto the highway, his driving catapulted past aggressive to downright insane and Jennifer gripped the door as he weaved through traffic. “Sorry,” he said and offered a shrug.

“Was it two teenagers?”

“Yes,” Steve answered. “And I can’t stay with you tonight. Murphy wants me at the frat house.”

“I could stay with you.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, even though he’d just assume hell freeze over before allowing her at the fraternity, not with the way Bill leered at her at the apartment. Something was happening, darkening the landscape, poisoning everything it came in contact with.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Steve held her hand and let the facts flow through his mind, the legends, the cove, the ritual. They all had to be connected and he decided another internet search was in order. Even with his mind saturated with the case, his mood worsened the closer he got to Brooksfield.

The closer the town came, the more the deaths of two more kids ate at the lining of his stomach, turning the delectable meal into a roiling mass weighing him down. He glanced at Jennifer, her lips forming the perfect, kissable pout and he flicked his gaze back at the road. Irritation snaked over his skin. “I’m sorry.”

Jennifer squeezed his hand. “I know. Do you mind if I come with you to the frat house?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I can’t do my job with you there.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Steve glanced at her again, moving his hand onto the steering wheel. “I’ll stay over tomorrow night.”

“And if the thing in the closet comes back?”

“Sleep in the living room.”

“You can be a son of a bitch sometimes.”

Steve swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. He gripped the steering wheel, hard enough for his knuckles to ache, knowing his anger was misplaced. She didn’t deserve it; the killer did, so he opted to keep his mouth closed. After counting to ten and reining his fury in, he shifted into gear.

Jen grabbed his hand off the gearshift. “No, say what you were going to say.”

Steve closed his eyes. “Jenny, it’s my job.” He didn’t look at her. He just leaned his head back and rubbed his face. “I’d rather be with you than looking for two dead teenagers.” Hell, I’d rather take you a million miles away from Brooksfield where I’d know you’re safe. “I can’t do this tonight.” He was quiet for a second, and then put the car in gear and slowly pulled back on the road. He glanced in her direction. “And I don’t think it’s safe for you at the frat house.” Silence settled in the car.

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said after the Welcome to Brooksfield sign passed.

“So am I.” Steve glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to snap.” The apartment complex loomed in the distance and when he finally parked in front of the entrance, he turned to her, yanking the keys from the ignition. “I’ll walk you up.”

The few extra minutes with her did little to lift his somber mood. In the elevator, he turned towards her, reaching out to graze her cheek with his fingers. “I wish I could stay with you tonight, but…,” he said as the elevators opened up on the penthouse floor.

“You have to work.” She finished his sentence and dug in her pocketbook for the apartment key she slid it into the lock and opened the door.

An eerie quiet within the apartment unsettled his nerves and kicked his intuition up a notch. “Wait here,” he said, and stepped past her with senses on high alert. Steve did a quick walkthrough of the apartment, stopping in her bedroom. He shivered from the cold draft wafting from the closet and he shut the door. When nothing else caught his attention, he headed back to the door. “Tracy’s not here and you really have to have her take a look at the air-conditioning in your closet, because I could feel the chill when I stepped in your room.”

“Tracy said there isn’t a duct in there.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Then there’s a leak of some sort in the air ducts which isn’t good.”

She wrapped her arms over her chest and bit her lip. Fear registered in her eyes as her gaze flicked to the hallway and back to him.

“Do you want me to get clothes out of your closet for tomorrow so you don’t have to?” he asked.

Jennifer’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she nodded.

He followed her to the bedroom and swung the door open. The temperature in the room plummeted and he hesitated at the entrance, scanning the clothing. The sweet scent of cedar wafted from the opening along with something that left an underlying taste in his mouth and he wondered if there was a Freon leak somewhere and that’s what triggered her asthma. It was a much more logical explanation than an imaginary monster.

Refocusing on the clothes, he turned to Jennifer. “What would you like?”

“The jean skirt and blue shirt back there,” she said and pointed toward the back wall.

Steve grabbed the hangers, handing them to her and stepping out of the closet. He closed the door behind him, jamming the desk chair under the knob, making it impossible for the door to unlatch and open by itself.

“Thank you.” Jennifer laid the clothes on the chair.

“Anytime. I just wish I could stay and maybe I’ll be able to hang here tomorrow night.” He kissed her goodbye and headed to the elevator.

Rubbing his face, he watched the numbers descend, a silent countdown like the one in the back of his mind, ticking off the seconds like a time bomb.