Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

As if maybe he wanted that kiss after all. The throbbing became a painful ache.

"We're… um… fine," Jenna managed, the inside of her mouth as dry as cotton. "Just fine."

"Well, good," Amy said cheerfully, and Jenna just wished the girl would go away. "Can I tell you about our specials this evening?"

Steven shook his head, his eyes still locked on hers, dark and intense. "I'll just have spaghetti," he said and held the menu up for Amy to take away. He'd never even opened it.

He just kept staring.

Jenna swallowed hard. Oh, Lord .

"Oh," said Amy, nonplussed. "With tomato or meat sauce?"

"Tomato. Jenna?"

Looking at the menu would mean looking away from his eyes which at the moment seemed impossible. "The same," Jenna murmured and handed the waitress her menu.

"Can I get you some wine?" Amy persisted.

Steven tightened his jaw and huffed an impatient sigh. "Jenna?"

"None for me, please." No way was she adding alcohol to what felt like a fire ready to consume her from the inside out. "Just water."

"The same."

Then Amy was gone, leaving a few crayons on the table and the two of them quite alone. Unable to bear the intensity any longer, Jenna looked away, fixing her eyes on the bright white paper covering the table that was becoming wet as condensation dripped from her water glass.

Wet and dripping. Somehow the visual didn't help.

After a few beats, Steven broke the silence. "I didn't tell you that you looked very nice tonight," he said quietly. "I guess I'm out of practice."

Pleasure coursed through her at the simple words. "Thank you." She looked up to see that whatever spell had held him seemed to be broken. Gone was the intensity that had turned his brown eyes almost black. Disappointment mingled with relief. "Thank you."

He tilted his head to one side and frowned a little. "Mrs. Kasselbaum told me about the water in your gas lines. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "I've been doing what you said and parking close to the school and having someone walk me out after closing."

"Good. I heard about the vandalism in your class. Have they confronted the Lutz boy or any of his friends?"

"No, and I don't think they're going to." She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Principal Blackman says we can't prove who did anything. They're trying to force my hand, but they'll find out I'm tougher than I look." She took a thoughtful look at him across the table. "What about you? How's your big case going?"

His face tightened. "Not well."

"I'm sorry. I saw you on CNN on Sunday morning. You looked… tired."

"I was. I still am. But we don't have anything definite to go on right now even though we're all pulling double shifts. It's small consolation for the Egglestons," he added bitterly, looking away.

Wanting to comfort him, she reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. The action was a reflexive one, a friend supporting a friend, but the feel of her skin on his was anything but friendly. The back of his hand was warm, rough, the reddish gold hairs coarse. Her palm… tingled. But her response was out of place at the moment so she swallowed it back. "I know you're doing all you can," she said softly.

His eyes snapped back to hers, then dropped to her hand resting on his. Suddenly feeling awkward she started to pull away, but he caught her, twining his fingers with hers and for a moment she could only stare at the sight. Her fingers and his. Together. It had been a long time since she'd held hands with a man. She hadn't realized until now just how much she'd missed it.

"Thank you," he said and she looked up to find him focused on her once again. And once again her heart raced. She opened her mouth to say something, but then his cell phone shrilled.

Jenna jumped while Steven swore. He pulled his phone from his pocket with one hand, still holding her hand with the other. "Thatcher," he barked, listened, then grew grim. Still one-handed he finished the call and dropped his phone back into his pocket.

"What's wrong?" Jenna asked.

"I have to go," he answered. "I'm sorry, but 1 have to go to the Egglestons' house. I can drop you off at your apartment on the way."

She stood up when he did because he still held her hand. "Will you be long?" she asked.

"I don't know. Why?"

Concern for him edged out the tingle of his hand on hers, the nearness of his body. "You need to eat, Steven. If you'd like I can make us something at my place after you're finished."

He looked down at her, worry in his eyes. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

He motioned to Amy the waitress who came hurrying over. "Cancel the order. We need to go." He let go of her hand only long enough to draw a bill from his wallet for the waitress's trouble. He tossed the money on the table, took her hand again, and led her to his car.

Tuesday, October 4, 8:45 P.M.

Sheriff Braden, Anna Eggleston's brother, met them at the Egglestons' front door and looked at Jenna, a question in his eyes.

"She's with me," Steven said. With me , his mind echoed and he liked the sound of it. Too damn much.

"I can wait in the car," Jenna offered and Braden shook his head.

"That's not necessary, ma'am. It's getting cold outside. Please make yourself comfortable." Braden gestured to a sofa covered with dainty little flowers, then turned to Steven. "Thanks for coming here to the house, Agent Thatcher. Anna didn't want to take Serena into the station."

Serena. Samantha's little sister. Steven's brain jogged to life. Four years old. The Egglestons had kept their youngest daughter far away from the investigation, shielding their baby from the ugliness of the situation, a response Steven certainly understood. But tonight Serena had burst into hysterical tears and her parents had been able to glean only that their littlest daughter knew something she should tell the police. What had the little girl heard that night? What did she know?

"Where is she?"

"In the kitchen." Braden looked at him helplessly. "She's just a baby, Thatcher."

Steven grasped Braden's upper arm and squeezed. "I know. Let's see what we can get without making this any worse than it is."

There was a crowd around the kitchen table Marvin and Anna Eggleston sat on either side of Serena, creating a human protective wall around their daughter. Serena herself sat quietly, her little round face streaked with tears. She was a beautiful child, with large blue eyes and dark, dark hair that fell in damp baby ringlets around her shoulders.

Steven looked from the Egglestons huddled around their daughter to the older woman that sat on Anna's left. Anna's and Sheriff Braden's mother. Mrs. Braden looked at him defiantly, as if daring him to harm her granddaughter. Then someone stepped from the shadows of the back door.

Mike Leone looked at him with worry in his eyes.

Of course this family had called their priest. Of course it would be Mike.

Steven quickly looked back to the table where Serena stared up at him, her blue eyes huge and teary and terrified. He smiled as he sat down. "Hi, Serena. My name is Agent Thatcher."

The little girl sniffled. "I know."

Steven leaned forward, pressing his forearms into the table. "Serena, honey, can you tell me why I'm here?" he asked gently.

Serena's lips quivered. "Because I've been bad," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Now, Serena," he said softly, "there's nothing you did that could be that bad. The bad person is whoever took your sister. Samantha didn't do anything wrong and neither did you."

Serena was clearly unconvinced. Her lower lip thrust out and her delicate eyebrows bunched. But she said nothing.

"Serena, tell the officer what you heard," Anna said, her voice a shaky tremble. "Please."