His eyes were on hers but Julia could tell his mind was not really seeing her. His brain was already busy processing what little information she had been able to give him. He put the pen down on the desk.

“There’s something else I need to know,” he said. “Is there any chance, any chance at all, that the killer may have seen you?”

Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so, he took off straight away.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t see you,” he said slowly.

Julia blanched and fisted her hands in her lap. “I know it doesn’t, Inspector,” she said curtly, “but isn’t it your job to reassure me? Make me feel safe?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to stare at her while methodically rubbing his hand back and forth along his jaw.

Julia crossed her arms. “Well?”

A flicker of something flashed behind his eyes as he watched her. Julia frowned. Doubt? Suspicion? No … wait a minute … was that amusement?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded. “Don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you, it’s just I’ve never come across such open hostility from a civilian before, that’s all,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Do you have a problem with just me or cops in general?”

Her eyes were clouded now, turning them almost black as they challenged him from behind rimless glasses.  Her mouth was set in a thin line of determination and she’d pulled her shoulders back as though bracing herself against a devastating blow.

Kieran inhaled deeply before meeting her gaze with careful professionalism.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Melanie.  Thirteen years ago, you gave up a little girl for adoption.”  He paused, waiting for her reaction but her eyes remained level with his own.  “I’m sorry to tell you that she’s been abducted.  We’re not sure but it’s very possible whoever has taken her has every intention of reuniting her with you.  Why?  We don’t yet know.”

He stopped to let the information sink in.  A suspect’s initial reaction was vital; a fleeting moment of guilt may be detectable before their brain registers an attack.  This wasn’t what Kieran saw pass over Melanie’s face as he watched her bite down on her bottom lip.  What he saw was stark shock and confusion.

“How can you be so sure it’s Sophie?” Her voice was purposefully controlled.

He pulled the folded picture from his pocket and passed it to her.  Her fingers were shaking as she carefully smoothed out the paper and came face to face with her daughter.  She sucked in a sharp breath, her hand covering her open mouth.  She turned tearful eyes to him and slowly shook her head.

“Someone’s taken her?  Do you know who it is? Why would they do this?”

“We’ve don’t have the answer to any of those questions yet.  But we do need your help.”

“This is insane.  I haven’t even seen a picture of her since she was five,” she cried, shaking the picture of her now teenage daughter in front of his face.  “How can this have anything to do with me?”

Kieran lowered his gaze.  He suddenly felt so unbelievably inadequate.  So damn useless standing in front of her unable to give any comfort whatsoever.

Belatedly coming to her senses, Lily dropped her gaze and curtsied. “My lord.”

Lord Westrop coughed and cleared his throat. She watched him place his drink on a small side-table from beneath lowered lashes.

“You must be the new housemaid.” He turned and came towards her. “Lily, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Lifting her head, she met eyes as blue as a crisp winter sky.

He continued to study her. His eyes brushed over her hair, her neck, her breasts. Lily flicked a glance left and right as her body traitorously heated beneath his gaze. The other gentlemen watched, amusement twitching their lips.

“Are you ready to be seated in the dining room, my lord?” Lily said, standing a little straighter.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your meal, sir?”

Lord Westrop blinked and the tension broke. Lily held his gaze. She noticed the curiosity when he looked at her not a moment before had vanished, only to be replaced with mischief—or was it guilt?

His smile turned wolverine. “Oh, I’m more than ready to eat, Lily. I’m positively salivating.”

Lily smarted as his friends burst into a flurry of mocking laughter, but kept her eyes locked on his. The tone of Lord Westrop’s voice disguised neither the implication nor his obvious enjoyment at her expense. A flame of indignation ignited inside of her.

Her smile was slow and intentionally provocative. “I am so pleased, sir. For I would hate for you to have to endure cold soup.” Her gaze lingered down to his crotch. “After all, you are quite obviously still chilled from an afternoon of riding.”

Tori left the pub and kept walking.

Mark’s gaze burned into her back as she tried to stop smiling. The man’s piercing blue eyes, his deep, calm voice and care for his daughter had drawn something out of her she hadn’t known existed.

Need.

God-awful, unwanted, deeply feared need for someone to care for her. For so long, Tori had kept Melissa and their parents at arm’s length to prove to them, and herself, that what Brian Appleton did to her hadn’t defined her.

Yet, in the pub with Mark, something had momentarily shifted, scaring her so much, she’d quickly slammed in place an attitude of being in charge. When in truth, it had been Mark in the driving seat from the moment he’d confessed his love and fears for Olivia.

She risked a look behind her. He’d gone.

She released a shaky breath. Whether Mark Bolton realized it or not, she’d not only agreed to him helping her with the investigation, he had slipped a little way under her personal defenses too. Time and again during the hour they’d been in the pub, she had waited for an annoying comment to come out of his mouth. Waited for him to make a move or say something disparaging about the case or even about something she said. Anything to put her off him, to give her reason to kick him to the curb as she’d warned she would.

Nothing. Nada.

The man was nice. Really nice.

She glanced at her watch. It neared eight. She turned the corner toward her office anyway. She’d left her car there earlier, assuming she’d not even make it through one drink. Instead, she got through two and would have easily stayed for number three if Mark hadn’t needed to leave to pick up Olivia. So while she waited for the wine to leave her system, she might as well attempt some work.

In amongst the subdued undercurrent of some mild flirtation, she and Mark had talked about Abby and the similarities between her abduction and Tori’s. Mark agreed there was something in Tori’s suspicions to pursue—unlike DCI Thornhill who’d seemed skeptical about everything she’d told him.

She had to find more, another link or reason, to convince the inspector she wasn’t clutching at straws or acting out of fear. Not that she wasn’t scared, but her adrenaline didn’t work that way. Every time she considered Abby’s home life and her own, the way the abductor had looked straight at her and her similar looks to Abby, it was too much to ignore.

Taking her keys from her bag, Tori let herself into the newspaper office. Surprised the alarm had already been deactivated, tension snaked through her body. She locked the door behind her and slowly walked to the elevator. Once she was in the paper’s office, she glanced toward Neil’s glassed corner office.