I hear a brief knocking on the door and I let out a sigh, wondering who it could be.

*******

I carefully pull back the door to reveal a young girl in her late teens, early twenties. Her hair is dark and matted down with a hat pulled snuggly around her head. "I'm looking for my Aunt Carol," she tells me, carrying a book bag over her shoulder. Her skin looks dirty, as though she hasn't showered in days and her eyes cry out in pain.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong address," I answer.

"I can't," she shakes her head, her eyes turning red with tears as she shivers from the cold.

"Come in," I offer her, opening the door to the young woman.

"I shouldn't," she eyes me warily.

"I'm an FBI Agent," I offer her, turning my back and heading towards the kitchen where I left my badge. "See," I hand it to her as she observes it.

"Maybe you can help me," she whispers with a sigh, carefully stepping through the front door but not moving more then two feet away.

"You're looking for your aunt?" I repeat.

"Yes," she nods steadily. "Last time I saw her, she lived here."

"When was that?"

"Five, maybe six years ago," she shrugs. "My mom wasn't close to her sister," she tells me, "but now that she passed away, I needed someplace to stay until I get my feet off the ground."

"What's Carol's last name?"

"Hunter," she lets out a soft sigh. "I know it's pretty generic; you'll probably never find her."

"I work for the Missing Persons Unit of the FBI," I smile reassuringly. "If anyone can find your aunt, I can."

"Thank you," she whispers sadly, her eyes telling me she's been through more pain than she shares.

"If you'd like, you're more then welcome to stay the night here," I offer. "I have a spare bedroom. It doesn't look like you've eaten much either. I can order in a pizza?"

"That would be great," she smiles thankfully.

"I never got your name," I put out my hand to shake it firmly.

"Eva Hunter," she answers.

"Nice to meet you Eva," I smile reassuringly at her. "I'm Samantha Spade."

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" She eyes my apartment.

"Not at all." I offer to take her bag while I show her the door.

"Is it all right if I shower? I'm kind of grungy," she glances down at her clothes.

"No problem at all. I can give you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should fit. You're about my size."

"Thanks," she smiles shyly towards me before slipping inside the bathroom.

I rummage through my drawers, pulling out some clothes for Eva to choose from. "They're outside the bathroom door," I knock gently, letting her know it's there before heading down to the kitchen to call for dinner.

I take a seat at the kitchen table, letting out a soft sigh. I grab the phone, debating whom I should call to let them know what's going on. I dial Jack's cell phone and wait for him to pick up. His voice sounds gruff, "Malone," he answers abruptly.

"Jack, it's me."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," I let out a soft breath. "There's a young girl that came by my apartment tonight. She's looking for her aunt because her mother died."

"How old?"

"I don't know; she's at least eighteen though."

"Then what's the problem?" Jack questions.

"I'm offering her a place to stay. I thought I could look into it tomorrow."

"You know the offices are closed," he reminds me with a sigh. "Besides you should be on vacation with the rest of us."

"And what about this girl?" I whisper.

"I'll look into it," he offers. "What's her name?"

"Eva Hunter," I answer. "Her aunt used to live at my apartment and her first name is Carol. Same last name."

"I'll see what I can do," he answers. "In the meantime, are you sure you're ok with having her stay there, or would you rather get a hotel room for her? You can charge it to the bureau," he offers.

"I can put her up for the weekend."

"All right, Sam. Give me an update if anything comes up, and be careful," he warns me.

"I am." I hang up the phone, and glance down the hall to see Eva emerging in clean clothes, looking fresh.

"Thanks," she smiles, running a towel through her dark curls.

"Feel any better?"

"As good as I can," she shrugs, taking a seat across from me.

"I called my boss, Jack Malone, and he's agreed to try and find your aunt. You're more than welcome to stay here in the meantime."

"And what if we don't find her?"

"We will," I smile reassuringly. "So where's your stuff?"

"That's all I have left," she glances towards the book bag that's on the sofa. "I sold everything else of mine to get bus fare," she lets out a breath and shuts her eyes.

"What about your father?" I question. "Where's he?"

"I don't know," she shrugs with a sigh. "I've never met the man. I'm not even sure my mother told him about me." She lets out a breath. "I was living with my mom during the summer and was supposed to go back to college in the fall, except," she pauses, her eyes trailing out the window, "she grew sick and the medical expenses outweighed the chance for me to finish. I stayed by her, and look where it got me."

"Your mother didn't notify anyone before she died?"

"She wasn't all there," Eva answers with a sigh. "The cancer ate away at her, and I thought I could manage on my own. I tried for the first month, but then the hospital bills were still coming and I couldn't survive any longer. I sold everything we had to keep myself out of debt, but I lost the apartment we were staying in. I figured I'd come to New York to find my aunt. I was hoping she'd be willing to put me up while I found a job and, if not," she pauses with a sigh, "then I'd find myself a roommate and hope I wouldn't be too much of a burden."

"I'm sorry about your mother," I tell her, resting my hands above hers.

"Thank you," she nods her head, tears falling down her cheeks. "It was so hard," she tells me, "watching the pain eat away at her. I almost couldn't bear to look at her, but I had to. I wanted to be there for her and now," her voice cracks, "I've failed her."

"No you haven't," I answer her. "How old are you? To have that kind of burden--"

She cuts me off, "Twenty."

"When I was twenty I wasn't that much better off. You'll make it, though," I reassure her. "I didn't think I ever would and now," I glance around my place, "it isn't so bad."

I hear the doorbell and stand up to pay the bill and grab the food. I bring it over to the table and watch as Eva swallows her food, chomping it down like she hasn't eaten in days.

"Good," she smiles at me, finishing up, and following me to the sofa. She shivers from the cold and I offer her a blanket, trying to make her comfortable. "Thanks," she tells me, curling up on the sofa and watching me, as I turn on the TV.

"What is it?" I glance towards her.

"Do you do this for everyone?"

"No," I shake my head with a laugh, imagining how many families would still be here if that were the case.

"But you find those that are lost?" She questions.

"That's what I'm paid to do."

"How often do you find them alive?"

"Never often enough," I answer with sad eyes.

"You want to tell me about it?" She sits up, interested in my FBI adventures.

"I'd love to, but I can't."

"Ahhh," she nods, "the life of a secret agent."

"I'm not a secret agent," I point out. "If I were, I wouldn't have told you."

"True," she nods with a soft breath. A minute or two passes before her eyes bounce around the room to my hand. "You're not married," she states the obvious.

"No, I'm not."

"Boyfriend?"

"I'm not sure I want to be having this conversation."

"Oh come on," she slides down onto the sofa, her feet stopping at my legs as she curls herself comfortably. "I can't be the only virgin left in New York," Eva laughs softly. "Indulge me a little."

"Eva," my eyes widen with a laugh, as I shake my head no.

"Oh come on," she pleads with me. "I'd share my stories with you, but I don't have any."

"There isn't much to tell," I answer with a smile playing on my lips.

"Not much to tell?" She repeats with a laugh, her eyes watching mine. "Not much you want to tell, or not much to tell at all?"

"Oh, there's plenty to tell, but you're twenty," I point out.

"Oh, whatever," Eva rolls her eyes and sits up slightly annoyed. "Come on, I told you about my family."

"Maybe tomorrow," I offer, shutting off the television and standing up. "I'm going to head to bed. I can show you where the guestroom is. Then you can stay out here, if you'd like to watch TV for a little while longer."

"I'm about ready for bed anyhow." Eva stands, folding the blanket before laying it on the sofa. She follows me back down the hall to the spare bedroom that's filled with a bookshelf, a computer and a spare bed. "Thanks again, Sam."

"Samantha," I correct her with a smile. "Get some sleep; we'll have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"All right." I close her bedroom door and head towards my own. I lock my door and put my cell phone on the night table. I put my gun away for safe keeping, making sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands, just in case.

I grab a pair of pajamas to slip on before crawling into bed. I let out a sigh, remembering I still have a date with Martin for tomorrow, but I'll also likely talk to Jack about Eva. How will Martin respond to the news? Will he overreact and think I'm wrong, by letting her into my home? I remember being her age---afraid of the world, the city, and the act of responsibility. I barely made it on my own, and I would have given anything to have had someone support me and help me out, even if for a short time.

I close my eyes and fall victim to sleep.