It was dark and the sky was spitting snow by the time I pulled up in front of Shannon's apartment building Friday night. My door creaked as I slammed it shut and slung my backpack over my shoulder. On the walk up to her door, I continued my internal deliberation over how I wanted this weekend to play out. 'The Talk' was coming. I could feel it in my bones.

My three sharp knocks on the door triggered the nerve-shattering yelps of Baby Dog who was no doubt lying in wait for me inside the apartment. Even through the thick metal door, I could hear her growling.

The door opened a half a foot, and Shannon was using her leg to barricade the dog inside. Satan was losing her shit, head-butting the back of Shannon's calf as she tried to charge me.

"Your dog hates me!" I shouted over the incessant barking.

She reached down and picked her up. "I'm so sorry." She backed away from the door so I could walk inside.

Baby Dog bared her teeth viciously.

Shannon tried to soothe her ruffled fur. "I'm not sure what's gotten into her!"

I laughed and shook my head, dropping my bag at the door. Shannon carried the dog down the hall and locked her in the bedroom. She was still barking.

I ran my fingers through my frost-covered hair. "Is she like this with everyone or am I special?"

Shannon sighed. "She hates men."

I rolled my eyes. Great. A cock-blocking canine.

My nose detected the scent of roasting meat.

"It smells amazing in here. Did you cook?" I asked, unzipping my jacket.

Shannon reached to help me. "Here, let me take your coat."

Surprised, I let her pull my jacket off my arms.

Her blond head tilted in the direction of the kitchen. "I figured you didn't take time to stop and eat, so I made dinner. I hope you like beef stroganoff."

"I like beef anything." I straightened my shirt as she hung my coat by the door. "Thank you."

It was then that I noticed the effort Shannon had put into my visit. The table was set with more plates than we needed. There were candles and a bottle of wine in the center. The apartment looked like it had been professionally cleaned. And Shannon, well...even though she was just wearing jeans and a sweater, Shannon looked like she had just walked off the cover of a magazine. There could be worse things than having a girlfriend, I suppose. I stretched my hand toward her, and she blushed as she took it. I pulled her close and kissed her.

She smiled and put her hands on my chest when I pulled away. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

The next morning, I awoke to a blond head on my shoulder and snow on the ground outside. It felt good. Damn good—the blonde, not the snow, that is. The snow was cold, very cold, but it wasn't quite deep enough to prevent a trip out to the Bryson's house. Shannon was in the passenger's seat, a spot I was getting used to seeing her in.

When I pulled into the driveway, I surveyed the modest two-story home. "Is there anything I should know?"

She thought for a second. "They still get pretty emotional sometimes talking about Leslie is all, but they are nice people."

I nodded and reached in the back seat for the files I had brought.

Shannon led the walk to the door, and I stood back while she pressed the door bell with her mittens. She looked cute in mittens and earmuffs. I smiled and winked at her.

The door opened and a woman—fifties, plump, and gray—ushered us in out of the cold. "My stars!" she exclaimed, grabbing Shannon by the jacket and tugging her inside. "I expected you two to cancel on account of the weather!"

Shannon slipped off her boots in the foyer, and I did the same.

"Nathan has four-wheel drive." Shannon gestured toward me. "Caroline, this is Detective Nathan McNamara."

I stuck out my hand, and she shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Bryson."

"Please, call me Caroline," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't speak with you the last time you were in town."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it."

She cleared her throat. "It's just that a lot of people have talked to us about Leslie over the years, and it's always the same thing: we get our hopes up and get disappointed."

"Ma'am, I completely understand." And I did.

Shannon hung up her coat on a rack near our shoes and then took mine.

"Shannon said you were a friend of hers, so I changed my mind." She turned toward the living room behind us. "Come on in. Y'all want some coffee or some iced tea?"

I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks."

Shannon sat next to me on the floral print sofa in the living room. Caroline sank into a rocking chair across from us. "How can I help you, Detective?"

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. "I've been investigating two disappearances out of Raleigh that happened about twelve years ago."

She blinked with surprise. "Pardon my bluntness, but you don't look old enough, Mr. McNamara."

I smiled. "I'm not. I've only officially been on this case for around eight years."

She blinked again. "I'm afraid they don't give cases that old much attention around here."

I shook my head. "Most of my work is done on my own time."

Her eyes narrowed in question.

"One of the victims was my younger sister, Ashley McNamara." I opened the file folder and pulled out a picture of my sister. "She was kidnapped after a football game my senior year of high school."

Caroline took the photograph, her mouth gaping and tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Detective."

"Call me Nathan." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Shannon's wide eyes. I sat back and draped my arm across the back of the couch behind her. "Caroline, I believe that your daughter and my sister may have been abducted by the same person. In fact, I believe Leslie's disappearance is linked with ten other cases."

She covered her mouth with her hand. "Ten others?"

I nodded. "Counting Leslie, there have been eleven girls between here and Raleigh who have all disappeared under similar circumstances. They're all around the same age, and they were taken from public places with no signs of foul play."

She handed the picture back to me. "What does this mean?"

I tucked the picture back into the folder. "I believe that I have enough evidence now to put pressure on the FBI to begin investigating these as a serial case."

Caroline sat forward. "Like a serial killer?"

I sighed and turned my palms up. "It could be a possibility."

Caroline withered in her seat. My heart truly hurt for her.

"Mrs. Bryson, I'm not going to try and fill you with false hope that I can bring your daughter back." I leaned forward again. "But I am asking you, as my sister's brother, to help me not let these cases be cold anymore."

Her face softened. She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "What can I do to help you, Nathan?"

"Be vocal," I said. "That's really it. Families still have the most influence with local, state, and federal agencies, and the more families we have insisting that these cases be looked into, the better chance we have of someone in authority taking action."

She took a deep breath. "OK."

I smiled. "Thank you." I pulled a business card out of the folder and handed it to her. "This has my cell phone number on it. Feel free to call me anytime."

She accepted the card and smiled. "Thank you for everything you're doing."

"I made a promise to my mother, ma'am. And I don't break promises to my mom," I said.

Caroline pointed at me and smiled at Shannon. "I like this boy. Have your parents met him?"

My blood pressure kicked up about forty points. I could feel my jugular beating against the collar of my shirt.

Shannon giggled and rubbed my back. "No, but I know they would love him."

Caroline stood up. "Well, he has my endorsement, for sure." She pointed toward the kitchen. "Would either of you like some lunch?"

I shook my head as I stood. "No, thank you. I've really got to get back to Raleigh."

Shannon whined and gripped my arm. "No, you can't!"

I laughed. "No?"

She poked out her pink bottom lip. "No." She reached for my hand. "You can stay one more day."

I was sure Lieutenant Carr would argue otherwise.

After a moment, I nodded. "OK. I'll stay." I smiled at Caroline. "Lunch would be great."

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