Page 6 of Wake the Dream

As a ranking officer, he’d be an example. Or he’d try to be, anyway. It was a good way to give back to the community that had given him so much over the last few years.

Maybe, just maybe he would be able to use his other gifts and solve this thing quickly.

Captain Osgood nodded, the ends of his goatee bristling and discolored with the remains of the tomato soup he’d had for lunch. “Woman called it in ten minutes ago, absolutely hysterical. I told her twenty-four hours minimum, but what can you do? Fae.” He shrugged, as though knowledge of their insistence was common knowledge. “She said she had waited long enough. Seems to have a real attitude on her. I had one of the officers take a few notes but you’ll need to go to her house for an interview.”

Kieran took hold of the folder and skimmed through the first and only page of the report. Missing woman, blah blah. Wow, the officer who’d taken the call had done a crappy job on the details. A recent picture was attached via paperclip—more than likely taken from the mythology database the police department accessed—and he took in the woman’s wide almond-shaped eyes, her blue-black hair swept behind her head in a long curling ponytail. Pretty. Young. Although with Fae it became difficult to tell their true age; they rarely aged physically past twenty-five.

And those who appeared older than that were ancient indeed.

“Go on, make a house call,” Osgood insisted. “She’ll be home for a while. Said it doesn’t matter what time you get there as long as I send someone.”

Kieran scowled. “How do you know?”

“She’s called me six times wanting an update.”

Six times in ten minutes? Or had Osgood shortened the time since the initial call just to make himself feel better?

Oh goodie. It was probably going to be one ofthosecases. The kind where the relative who made the report crawled up his ass and stayed there until he solved the disappearance. He couldn’t wait to get this over with.

Kieran spared a glance at his watch. Seven o’clock in the evening. He’d gotten into the office at six that morning, which meant he should have punched out hours ago.

Gritting his teeth against a yawn, or a growl, he gathered his things and slung his briefcase strap over his shoulder. Spring approached but the nights took on a certain chill where winter flexed its muscles as a reminder that it wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Trees swayed in the slight breeze, the scent of pine filling his lungs.

He’d have to grab something to eat on the way. No way he could conduct an interview without something in his belly. A greasy burger sounded pretty damn good right now.

If he wanted to make sergeant, he had to kiss a little butt and take on the jobs no one wanted. It was a sad fact. Despite the gifts at his disposal, he’d settled into a position as low man on the totem pole.

A position none of his team let him forget, as evidenced by the snickers following him outside.

Kieran stopped long enough to make a trip through the drive-through of their local fast food joint, the only one of its kind in the town limits and known for rich chocolate shakes and greasy bowel-loosening burgers.

As a transplanted denizen of the spectacular Hedgehill Marsh, Oregon, he had become accustomed to rarely traveling over the county line. He hadn’t been born there. He originally hailed from the Midwest. One of those nameless center states where the flat wasteland of prairie stretched on for miles and miles.

But he much preferred the Marsh. It felt like home, even with his brother and father thousands of miles away. No one had understood his gifts until he came here. Hell, Kieran hardly understood them himself, although the more he practiced and the more he read people, the better he became.

Burger in hand, he spared a glance at the address written on the report. Oh, very nice. It was one of those sweet old places several blocks over from downtown. It meant money. Fae usually had the coin to spare, he’d found out from past experience. Unlike some of the other paranormals in town, Fae and vampire accumulated the most wealth.

He chalked it up to their centuries of life.

Kieran pulled his black cruiser along the circle driveway and stopped near the front door. Parking brake engaged, he took a moment to clear his mouth of crumbs and ketchup. Nothing made a good first impression like burger breath, he thought, popping a couple of mints for good measure.

Time to get this over with. And at least his stomach remained silent. Kieran scrutinized his reflection. Hair in place, check. Eyes free of gunk, check. Teeth clear but slightly crooked, check.

He tucked the report under his arm and patted his side to make sure he had his notebook and pen in his jacket pocket. A half hour, maybe sixty minutes at most, and he’d be done here. Then he could look forward to multiple missed calls from the victim trying to find out the status of the investigation.

Yippee.

The front door swung open before he had a chance to knock, his fist poised inches above the door painted a bright yellow to offset the duller brick.

Whatever Kieran had been expecting, he hadn’t expectedher.

How had he not seen a creature like her around town before this?Strikingdidn’t begin to cover her.

He also hadn’t expected the fact that he couldn’t get a read off of her. At all. Not even a hint of what she thought or felt. Normally, the impressions came to him easily. He could tune in at will, although it was more difficult to pinpoint the exact source whenever surrounded by a large group of people. With Illaria, he should have been able to sense at least an inkling of her mind.

Nothing.

Luminous cheeks highlighted the amazing color of her eyes. On his first passing glance, he thought them blue. Maybe gray, although the color probably changed depending on her mood.

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