Page 8 of Wake the Dream

And because they played on my need for advancement.

She crossed to the table and took a seat, using her nose to indicate that he take a seat across from her. Once he had, she flicked her gaze down to his report. He was once again astounded that he couldn’t get a read off of her. Nothing! Being Fae didn’t matter in this case. His sight worked on creatures great and small. Except, apparently, this woman.

“Grab your pen, hotshot, because I’m going to tell you everything. And you’re going to help me find my sister.”

Without thinking, he reached across the table to touch her. His hand dwarfed hers, skin tanned and golden next to her. She was more like moonlight. Soft, glowing, incorporeal as air. “We’re going to find your sister,” he said, tone shifting into compassion. “Trust me on this, Miss...”

“It’s just Illaria. My sister and I aren’t big on last names. They don’t mean much in the Fae world.”

“Good to know.” He noted it with a scribble, breaking the contact. It left his hand feeling like he’d held it over a fire. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

An hour and a half later, Kieran trudged back into the precinct building feeling like he had two anchors attached to his ankles and dragging him down. He didn’t trust the Fae. They had a bad habit of luring people into a false sense of complacency for reasons unknown. Most often their own selfish whims and desires. Who was to say that Illaria wasn’t using him for something and her “missing” sister wasn’t actually missing?

He had no information to go on other than Illaria’s first-hand account of her evening. He’d found no indication of...well,anything, and aside from her assertion that Yelena was missing, he’d seen nothing to indicate a struggle—outside of the homeowner’s own aggression, at least.

If there had been evidence to find, Illaria did a damn good job of destroying it. Which made his job even harder. Unless he included Illaria herself as a suspect. Which of course he should, because wasn’t the first thing he’d learned was not to rule out anyone?

“Whoa, there. Rough evening, Shanahan? You look like someone ran you over.”

“Shove it up your ass, Zarif.”

Kieran ignored the officer manning the front desk and strode past into the bullpen. Osgood had left for the day, of course. The older man probably hadn’t waited ten minutes after Kieran left to run from the building, leaving his lackey on the evening shift.

Pembroke, the sniveling second in charge, had his legs crossed on the boss’s desk, mud flaking off his hiking boots despite the fact that he never hiked a day in his life. “Took you long enough to get back. You setting precedence or grabbing a piece of fairy tail?”

Kieran set the case folder down with deliberate leisureliness. Noted the way the rest of the papers on his desk immediately absorbed it along with the rest of the mess. Hadn’t he just gotten through it all? Where had more come from?

“Yes, I’m late,” he replied, keeping his eyes forward, “because good police work involves getting the tiniest detail out of the witness. Especially when there is no other evidence to support the foul play theory.”Not that you know anything about this case.

“Sure, sure. But maybe you did a little woo-woo on her, too. Am I right?” Pembroke’s porn ’stache twitched when he moved his arms in a windmill motion around his ears in the universal sign for crazy. “Maybe not the kind of woo-woo you’re used to. I hear she’s a good-looking piece.”

“It’s too late for you to talk like this, bud. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Pembroke shifted, shaking his head like someone bungled the punch line of a joke. “Aw, come on. You don’t need to get your back up because I made fun of your special little issue.”

“My special little issue?”

“I said it, I meant it.”

That’s how his colleagues saw his gift. Not as something to be respected, or heaven forbid trusted. But as a handicap. Almost. Something to set Kieran apart from his peers in the worst way.

Exhaustion made him depressed, which in turn led to a spiraling of his thoughts. No matter what he did, how many hours of overtime he worked or cases he put to bed, he would never be good enough for the rest of the squad.

“Leave myspecial little issueout of this.” He stopped to rub the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and at once his sturdy blue-and-gray flannel shirt stifled him. He needed to get home and into the shower, quick.

“Is the princess a little sensitive tonight?” Pembroke cooed.

He was one of those people who didn’t have to try to be annoying. He came by it naturally.

Kieran set his teeth, keeping his jacket on. “I think I’m going to head home and sleep on this. See if I can come up with any new ideas for leads. That okay with you?”

Pembroke slowly nodded, the wind effectively sucked from his sails when the other detective didn’t immediately rise to the occasion. “Whatever, dude.”

His coworkers could tease him, but they knew the truth. Kieran saw things, knew information without having to be told. It scared them shitless.

Kieran still had his keys in his coat pocket and looped them around his fingers on his way back out. An unsolvable case, by any account. No leads, no evidence, and a surly Fae woman intent on getting immediate results.

He allowed himself an indulgent grin hidden from any prying eyes.

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