Jensen paused. That could be Elizabeth-not that he'd describe her eyes aseerie , but rather mesmerizing .

"Actually, that's not true," Brian said. "I noticed the bartender had the same eyes-eerily pale. He also came over to the woman after the scuffle. I wonder if they are related or something."

Jensen considered that for a moment, then promptly told himself it wasn't likely. So the bartender had light blue eyes. What were the chances he was Elizabeth's relative?

Jensen paced back and forth, watching the building as if gun-toting gang members were going to burst outside and shoot him down.

Getting shot down? Maybe that was what he was worried about-figuratively, rather than literally. And it wasn't by the bartender, who likely wouldn't have any idea who Elizabeth was, anyway. It was definitely the possibility of Elizabeth shooting him down.

"Just go home," he muttered to himself, but then, instead of heading back to his truck, he paced again, watching the bar.

The neon lights were a beacon, just not the beacon they were designed to be, luring revelers in for a cold beer or a drink. He stared at the Miller Lite sign.

No, what lured him was the far-fetched idea that the bartender was somehow related to Elizabeth, all based on Brian's offhanded comment that the bartender also had light blue eyes. It wasn't as if Brian was the most observant person. In high school, Jill was forever getting annoyed with him for not noticing a new hairstyle or a brand-new outfit.

Okay, this argument was actually backing up his far-fetched theory. If Brian noticed, then the guymust have the same unusually pale eyes.

Jensen hesitated a moment longer, then breathed a deep sigh. What could it hurt just to walk in and see if the bartender reminded him of Elizabeth? And even if he didn't, it wouldn't hurt to ask the guy if he knew her. Maybe Elizabeth was a regular here.

A wave of antic.i.p.ation curled up his spine at the idea. Even if no one knew her, he could just hang out for a while and see if she showed.

Okay, he was apparently an official stalker. His determined march paused for just a second, then he continued on through the parking lot. He wasn't stalking her, he was just looking for her. Because he wanted an explanation of her behavior. That was it.

He pushed open the bar door. Well, that and he did want to see her again.

The bar was relatively empty. A group of young men-obviously construction workers or laborers just off from work, given their rumpled t-shirts and dirt-layered jeans-played pool. Three other guys, clad in leather and jeans, sat at one of the round tables, not speaking, just sullenly drinking and watching the room as if they were waiting for something to happen. And at the bar was an old man, a cigarette dangling from his beard-surrounded lips.

A redhead puttered around behind the bar, wiping down gla.s.ses and occasionally saying something to the old man.

Jensen didn't see this bartender with the pale eyes. Maybe it was the guy's night off. Jensen considered just turning around, when a figure came out of the back room. The man was wearing an expensive gray shirt, obviously tailored to fit him, with an equally expensive pair of black pants. He didn't look like he belonged here. Jensen could see that much, but from his angle by the door, he couldn't see what his eyes looked like.

Slowly, as if he was casing the joint, Jensen walked around a few of the tables littering the floor, trying to get a look at the man's eyes.

Okay, I'm now officially stalking a guy, too.This was pathetic.

But Jensen's thoughts of pitiful behavior disappeared as the man turned to face the old man, also facing Jensen directly.

Jensen stopped. There was no doubt about it. This guy had to be related to Elizabeth. Same eyes. Their coloring, aside from that, wasn't the same. Elizabeth had dark hair, while this guy was lighter. But there was still no denying they did look alike.

And it was his best shot at finding her. His only shot.

He started toward the bar, only to pause again. But how did he ask about Elizabeth without sounding like... well, a stalker?

He always came back to that, didn't he?

Screw it. He had to find her. He was desperate. He still couldn't say why she'd had this effect on him, except for maybe the fact that Elizabeth had made him think about something other than Katie. Even for a little while.

"Hi," he said, taking a seat beside the old man.

The old man glanced at him and grunted a greeting around his nearly burnt-out cigarette.

"Hey," the man with Elizabeth's eyes said, placing a drink napkin in front of him. "What can I get you?"

"A club soda," Jensen said, even though he realized that if he wanted information, he should probably buy an actual alcoholic beverage. Wasn't that how these exchanges went down?

But the bartender didn't seem fazed by his drink request.

The old man to his left, however, did seem to take exception.

"Who comes to a place like this to have a club soda?"

The redhead, who seemed to be taking inventory of the beer coolers, shot the old man a disapproving look.

"Ignore Jed," she said, offering Jensen a wide, warm smile.

Jensen couldn't help but smile back. "Well, I guess it is a little strange to come to a bar on a Monday night to drink club soda alone."

The pale-eyed man returned, and Jensen noticed he stood close to the redhead. Very close. And there was a possessive glint in his unusual eyes.

"That is an interesting question," he agreed. "What does bring you here tonight?"

Well, that was an open segue, if he'd ever heard one.

He reached for the drink, taking a sip, and trying to think of how to ask his question-in the least stalker-ish way possible.

"I'm actually looking for someone," he finally said. "A woman I met here over the weekend."

The pale-eyed guy studied Jensen for a moment, then his gaze seemed to flick past him, over his shoulder. Jensen realized he'd glanced to the men seated at the round table.

Jensen wondered if they were about to cause trouble-they seemed to be the type. But before he could look, the pale-eyed man looked back to him. His eyes held the same unnerving intensity as Elizabeth's. Although it was definitely more pleasant to be studied by Elizabeth.

"Do you have a name?" the redhead asked, and Jensen noticed that the man at her side didn't seem pleased that she was willing to help. Definitely the possessive type.

But then, his woman did work in a bar. He probably had to be pretty careful of the men. The redhead was a knockout. Not as striking to Jensen as Elizabeth, but then, no one ever had been.

He paused at that idea. No. Katie had been. She'd been perfect. She'd been his soul mate, and all he'd ever wanted. While Elizabeth was... an enigma. A strange obsession.

"I'm actually looking for a woman named Elizabeth."

The pale-eyed man's gaze sharpened. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

He tilted his head, and for the first time, Jensen noticed something odd about his appearance. It was almost as if his face was too symmetrical, too perfect. His features didn't look fake, but they were almost distractingly flawless.

Jensen blinked. He'd never really taken into account a guy's looks before, but this guy was oddly disconcerting. He glanced at the redhead and realized she had the same look about her. Absolute perfection.

He blinked again, wondering why he was considering their appearance when he just wanted information about Elizabeth.

"Yeah. I do know Elizabeth. She's my sister. I can tell her you stopped by."

Jensen wasn't surprised by the admission that he was her sibling, or by the fact that he wasn't willing to give some random guy her address.

Jensen probably wasn't the first guy to come in here looking for her. That idea really, really bothered him.

Jensen nodded. "I'd appreciate that." It wasn't as if he was going to get this guy to say anything that he didn't want to. Coming here had been a long shot, anyway.

He took another swallow of his club soda, trying to act like he wasn't dying to grill her brother for more information.

Elizabeth's brother seemed satisfied that his few questions would be the end of it. The redhead gave Jensen a small, regretful smile, as if she'd like to help him more, but then she left to go tend the music.

Jensen sat there for a few moments, halfheartedly sipping his soda, and also half hoping Elizabeth would show up.

Pathetic.

He downed the remainder of his drink and rummaged in his jeans pocket for some cash.

"You know," the old man next to him leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, "I heard there was a place for rent out on the Boyd Road."

Jensen frowned at the man. "Is that so?"

The old man gave him a significant look, raising his bushy eyebrows until they nearly met his hairline.

"Oh," Jensen said, understanding dawning on him. "Is that right?"

The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Only house out on that road."

Jensen paused at that. Was it really wise for this old guy to be cluing him in to where Elizabeth lived? After all, he could be a psycho-killer. At the very least, he could be the guy who had random booty calls with her. Of course, she had been the one to initiate those. But still.

Jensen eyed the old man. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I saw her watching you the other night." He nodded his head like that was enough to clarify all, but then he added, "She likes you."

Jensen mulled that over. He wasn't sure Elizabeth liked him for more than an easy lay. But somehow the old man's observation made him feel better, maybe a little less pathetic. Still, like and l.u.s.t were often hard to tell apart.

Jensen's doubt must have showed on his face, because the old man leaned a little closer, nudging him with his bony elbow.

"Trust me. I'm good with these types," he said, his eyes twinkling wickedly. "They are actually easier to read than our kind."

Jensen frowned at the old man.These types? Our kind? What the h.e.l.l was he talking about? Okay, maybe the old man was just a crazy old drunk.

"They'd still be edging around their feelings if it weren't for me." The old man jerked his head in the direction of Elizabeth's brother and the redhead.

The couple was locked in a brief embrace, but Jensen could easily see the adoration in their expressions.

Jensen took a deep sigh. Crazy old man seemed his only option here. Jensen tossed a few bills on the bar, and nodded to the old man, who nodded back in a way that said,Go get her.

Jensen left the bar, just hoping she wanted to be gotten. No, he just wanted her to answer a few questions. A relationship still seemed way too out of his reach.

Chapter 9.

Well, for whatever other craziness, the old man had been right about the Boyd Road. It did lead right to an old farmhouse. The only house on the road.

He felt like an intruder, pulling into the drive, but the temptation to see Elizabeth was too much.

Lights glowed in several of the windows, but otherwise the place appeared quiet. He stepped up the stairs onto a large wraparound porch much like his granddad's and knocked on the front door.

Waiting, he peeked in the windows into a kitchen, which was very tidy. He knocked again, and he listened.

Maybe she could see him out there and she was avoiding him. He raised his hand to knock again, but stopped himself. He could hardly force himself on her. If she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to see him.

From behind him, a noise sounded, like something being knocked over. Something hard and heavy. He spun, peering into the darkness, not seeing where the noise could have come from. He stood stock-still, listening.

He heard another sound, not the same as the first. This time a low growl rumbled from across the yard. The sound of an animal rather than a human.

"h.e.l.lo?" he called anyway, stepping down off the porch. Silence greeted him. He walked slowly across the lawn, trying to peer into the dark.

As he approached the barn he noticed light seeping around the hinges of the old double doors. Another sound like something falling over echoed out of the large structure.

He picked up his speed.

He hurried over to the barn and tugged the large door open. The old hinges squeaked, and he heard a scurrying sound that he wrote off to mice running for cover.

The interior of the barn was relatively empty. Remnants of hay, cobwebs, and other signs of lack of use, all exactly what he would picture in an old, unused building like this. Except, on the far end, heavy plastic sectioned a makeshift room away from the rest of the barn. It glowed like a coc.o.o.n lit from within.

He frowned, taking a cautious step forward. Which was a good thing, because as he stepped down, he nearly trod on a small, bleary-eyed skunk. The animal peered up at him with unconcerned black eyes. Jensen fought the urge to recoil. A sudden movement could startle the creature and lead to a bad and very smelly outcome.

The skunk disregarded him and trundled off to disappear into one of the old horse stalls.

Jensen let out a pent-up breath. That had been close, in fact, he couldn't believe that the little animal hadn't sprayed. Definitely not the usual behavior of a surprised skunk, but he was thankful he'd been spared.

He cast another quick look around, looking for more wandering animals-and for what could be making all the noise. When he saw nothing, he took another step into the shadowy barn, illuminated only by the strange plastic room. The floorboards creaked, and he heard a responding shuffle that seemed to emanate from within the plastic room. For the first time, Jensen noticed a shadow in the plastic coc.o.o.n-what appeared to be the silhouette of a figure.

Or at least he thought it was a figure, even though the object didn't move. It gave the impression of large shoulders and a head, almost like a figure of something crouched, poised to attack.

"Elizabeth?" he called, keeping his voice low, his eyes trained on that shadow. Something wasn't right here. The air actually felt thick, and his skin p.r.i.c.kled like he was in the presence of something far more dangerous than a skunk. Although wandering skunks, strange noises, and an eerie glowing plastic room all seemed like valid reasons to be a little cautious.

"Elizabeth," he said again, a little louder. He had the feeling she was here, and she was in danger.

He took another step, when a strange noise overhead caused him to freeze. What the h.e.l.l was that?

He glanced up and saw several owls lined up on one of the exposed beams. They blinked down at him, then one spread its wings-the whispery whoosh of the long appendages was the sound he had heard.