"Can you describe him for me?" Dia asked.
The little girl screwed up her nose. "Dark, floaty. He smiles, Mommy."
"Does he reach for Riley?"
She shook her head. "He watches."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"That's wonderful. Now, would you like a cookie?"
Pigtails went flying again as the little girl nodded enthusiastically.
"Then we'll race you to the kitchen."
The little girl took off. Dia rose to her feet and looked at me.
" 'That's wonderful'?" I asked, eyebrow raised.
"I don't want Risa to be afraid of what she sees, nor do I ever wish her to be afraid to talk about it. So, I praise rather than react, no matter what she says she sees."
"And has she ever seen anything bad?"
"She once saw death with his hand on the shoulder of a client. He died the next week, hit by a truck at a pedestrian crossing."
"Oh." Great. Not that death and I hadn't been chummy before. Hell, I'd even faced the god of death himself and was still alive to tell the tale. "So what does it mean when she sees death near me, but not touching?"
"I'd presume it means you're about to do something dangerous, something that puts your life on the line. Be careful when hunting this serial killer."
"I intend to be, trust me." I shivered and rubbed my arms. "I think that coffee you mentioned might be a good idea now."
She smiled and motioned me to follow her. We went through a large, formal dining room and into a kitchen that was as large as my entire apartment. Unlike the other rooms in this house, though, it had a homey feel to it, filled with warmth and the rich scent of baking. Risa was already in a high chair, munching on cookies.
A thin-looking shifter turned around as we entered, her smile rippling across her face, making her rough, aquiline features glow with cheeriness and affection. Obviously a woman who loved her job.
"A guest! How lovely. Will coffee and cake be good, Miss Dia?"
"Elsa, this is Riley. And coffee and cake would be wonderful."
"Good, good. You sit, I serve."
So we sat and we talked, the topics ranging from her work and clients to news, shops, and TV. It was a tentative beginning, but a beginning all the same.
And, oddly enough, despite the fact her visions had confirmed that my future would not be what I'd always imagined, I left Dia's house feeling a lot more enthusiastic about whatever fate had in store.
I climbed into my car and headed back to the Directorate. Given what Dia had seen of the shadow, my next line of inquiry had to be a search through past murder records, both Directorate and police. Which would probably take ages. But while the computer was doing its stuff, I could at least catch up on Cole's latest findings. Not that I thought anything would be a lot different from the first murder.
I drove into the parking lot and was lucky enough to find a spot near the elevators. The car keys I pocketed. While regulations said that all keys had to be returned to the responsible officer on reentry to the Directorate, I'd probably need the car later, so it was easier to simply keep them. And besides, it would piss off Salliane.
I went through all the scanner and ID checks, then headed downstairs. Rhoan wasn't in the squad room when I got back, but Jack was. "Cole's initial report for the second murder," he said, handing me a folder. "He expects to complete investigations this evening."
I tucked the folder under my arm and helped myself to coffee. "He didn't notice anything unusual there?"
"No." Jack hesitated. "Are you sure this thing you're sensing at the crime scenes isn't a vampire?"
I shook my head. "It's not a vamp. A vamp couldn't get close enough to the scene, not without Cole and his team sensing him." Because a shifter's senses were every bit as keen as a werewolf's. "It doesn't even feel like a soul."