It was the low gutteral gasps from the engine that gave him the first clue that they were in real trouble. He had, as he always had done, ignored the annoying glow of the warning light on the dashboard which had appeared a good half hour before. Now, he swore, the little orange silhouette of the gas pump was mocking him as he let the car drift off to the shoulder of the road. "Shut up!" he growled at it, as he gripped the steering wheel and braced himself for the certain onslaught of attacks from Becky. A final sputter and the noiseless car came to a complete stop.

Surprisingly Becky was silent for a moment as they both sat motionless, the dark trees hovering in a canopy above them.

 "I guess I'll get out and see what I can do..." he muttered

 "see what he could do?" Who was he kidding? He had done it, taken a terrible evening and made it that much worse. He rubbed his forehead. the alchohol fog was lifting slightly and the cool night air helped his mind clear.

 Suddenly the passenger car door slammed and he could see Beck appear out of the darkness. She was dressed for an evening out. Her black satin cocktail dress skimming the curves of her body, the gold locket he had given her gleaming in the sparse light from the moon through the pines. She crossed her arms and leaned against the car, her glare speaking volumes. He hung his head and looking at the dirt road beneath him uttered sheepishly, "I guess I'll go get help."

"Oh no Mister! You're not leaving me alone with these 'things' in the woods" He thought he saw a twitch of amusement in her expression but didn't dare hope.

 "Well then, shall we?" Dave asked offering her his arm with a hammy attempt at gallantry and an exagerated bow. She smiled slightly and to his astonishment slid her arm in his. If there was one thing Becks was good at, it was staying calm in a crisis and Lord knows he had caused enough of them during their tumultuous, on again off again relationship.

The darkness amplified the sounds of the night. Each footstep, cracking twig or animal voice became an ominous symphony and Becky tightened her grip on his arm as they tread on into the uncertainty of the evening.

Suddenly, rounding a bend in the road they came upon an ornate and very old iron gate. Behind it, a winding gravel pathway led to a white one story cottage nestled amongst flowering trees and shrubs. A warm amber light emanating from one of the downstairs windows hinted that someone was inside. They glanced unsure at eachother and Dave gingerly creaked open the gate. He paused at the red wooden door before knocking and they both took a deep breath as if they were going to swim a long way underwater.

To their surprise, as he knocked the door opened slightly with a low whine.

"Hello?" Dave called.

"Anyone home?" Becks added timidly.

They ventured cautiously inside. There was a cozy sitting room with a fire dancing brightly under a victorian mantlepiece. A porcelain teacup half empty rested on a tray.

They called out again. No answer. Twice more... no response. In fact, aside from the snaps and pops of the fire, the house was deadly silent.

"Someone was just here", Dave surmised... "a teacup, a newly built fire..."

"Thanks CSI" Becky teased, "but can we make this quick?"

"A phone and we're out of here" Dave whispered. "they can send me the bill"

"There" Becky pointed to a side table.

Dave fumbled in his wallet for his triple A card and began dialing.

As their eyes grew accustomed to the low light, Becky noticed a large lovely antique portrait of a young woman above the fireplace.

Noone paints portraits anymore, she thought admiring the woman's far away gaze and elegant dress.  

"Looks sort of like you..." Dave giggled nodding toward the painting. She rolled eyes but admittedly it sort of did.

"Yes my car ran out of gas..." she heard Dave explain "where? uh well..."

And that's when she saw it!