Claire, on the other hand, would have needed to work hard to convince Megan and Alastair that she’d fit in. A passion for acting—she’d played leads in every high school production—had probably helped. Claire didn’t need approval, acceptance, or family. She got all that at home. In high school, she was the kind of girl I’d have wanted to hate, but couldn’t. Pretty, smart, and athletic, she’d have had every right to be a stuck-up bitch, but had spent her spare time organizing fund-raisers instead of partying with the football team. She’d been completing a social work degree when she died.

Claire Kennedy was a girl who had cared. One who had taken the lead when no one else would. One who’d felt incredibly guilty when her friend disappeared. And one whose guilt made her fear the worst—that Alastair had killed Tamara for leaving them, or at least kidnapped her until she was properly brainwashed. Was it any wonder she’d decided to spend her summer term undercover at the commune? No. It was risky and naïve, but it was exactly the kind of thing Claire Kennedy would have done.

Why did Michael let me see this file? I could say he was a canny investigator. He knew it was important for me to see his sister as a person, not as an anonymous victim. But there was more to it than that. Giving me this said “I’m going to trust you, as hard as that might be for me.” I hoped to repay that trust by finding his sister’s killer.

AFTER GETTING THE tire we went for Mexican and wore out our welcome with the staff, who kept coming by our table and casting looks at the growing line outside the door. We ignored them, and it was almost ten by the time we left.

We’d each had only one drink, hours ago, so driving wasn’t an issue. Michael offered me the keys again, but I let him take the wheel this time.

We were passing a scenic outlook trail when Michael slowed, squinting at the sign.

“I’m up for a walk if you are,” I said. Something I’d had for dinner hadn’t combined well with the ride. Fresh air would help.

“It’s closed after five,” he said.

“Which means it’ll be empty.”

He parked. The sun was long gone, but a full moon lit the way. The trail wasn’t that long. Nor was the outlook all that scenic.

It was just a walking bridge over a river with banks maybe twenty feet high. A wooden railing kept people from stumbling off the high banks. I ducked under it and sat on the rocky edge, legs dangling. Michael hesitated, then followed.

We sat in comfortable silence before he said, “Tell me about yourself.”

“Um, I did that for three hours at the restaurant. You talked about you. I talked about me ...”

“No, we talked about our jobs and about my car and your bike. I want to know more about Savannah. You’ve heard my sordid childhood. Now it’s your turn.”

Not an easy request to fulfill. As supernaturals we’re taught to tread the line between cautious and cagey. It’s worse to look as if we’re holding something back. That went double with a cop.

So I gave him the basic Savannah bio, leaving out names and places. I’d lived with my mom until I was twelve. Then she died and I’d been taken in by a friend of the family. Our twosome soon expanded to three. My guardian’s husband was a lawyer and investigator, and they’d opened their own firm. I’d worked there in school, then stayed on after.

I mentioned getting Lucas’s help fixing the dents in my bike, and Michael said, “So you still live close, I guess?”

“Um, very close. Yes, I’m twenty-one and I still live at home.”

He blinked. “Twenty-one?”

“Didn’t you do your basic background check? What kind of cop are you^?”

“I did one, but only to confirm your employment. I didn’t dig up personal info.” He looked at me. “Why? Did you?”

“I just made sure you were who you said you were. So how old did you think I was?”

“Twenty-three, twenty-four. You act older.”

I laughed. “I do believe that’s the first time anyone has said that about me. So, is it too young for you?”

He leaned over, lips coming to mine, arms pulling me into a kiss, soft at first, tentative, then ... wow. The guy could kiss. I finally had to pull back to catch my breath.

“Good answer?” he said.

“Yep. You like them young.”

He flushed. “That was not the message.”

“Are you sure? Because it certainly seems—”

He cut me off with another oxygen-depriving kiss. When I teetered a bit on the edge, he grabbed me like I’d been about to go over, one arm around my waist, the other clutching the rail.

“I think we’d better back up,” he said.

“Mmm.” I glanced over the embankment. “It’s not that far down. Not fatal unless you land wrong.”

He hauled me back under the railing.

“Chicken,” I said.

He snorted. “If I didn’t move, you would have. You play a good game, Savannah, but you’re not nearly as reckless as you seem.”

“Wanna bet?”

I yanked off my boots and got up on the railing, balancing on it.

“I rest my case,” he said, pointing at the discarded boots.

I stuck out my tongue.

“I take back that ‘seem older’ part.”

“As well you should.” I took a few steps along the railing, then hopped off. “So, are you going to tell me how old you are?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Relatively youthful. You might have to act more immature, though, so I don’t feel bad.”

“I can probably manage that.”

He pulled me into another kiss and I was up against a tree pretty damned fast. He stuck to kissing, though. Like a high school make-out session. Only without the wandering hands, and with a guy who kissed a helluva lot better than anyone I’d dated in high school.

When things inevitably got a little too steamy, he backed off me, saying, “Okay, time out, or I’m going to try something I really shouldn’t on a public path.”

“You’re right,” I said. “We should cool it.”

“Damn.”

I laughed. “Sorry, but it’s only our second date.”

“So there’s a schedule?”

“What if there is?”

“Then I should know it.”

“To keep you from making any premature moves?”

“No, so I can decide if it’s worth it.”

I only laughed. We kissed a while longer, until I put on the brakes, and we sat down on the grass, looking up at the stars.

When I snuck a look at him, I felt my pulse quicken. That surprised me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this happy on a date. This comfortable. This hopeful. It wasn’t the racing heart I got when Adam was around, but it was something. It was definitely something.

We sat there quietly for another minute, then Michael said, “So you said you worked through school. Which college?” When I didn’t answer, he reddened. “Okay, that was presumptuous of me.”

“Nah. It’s cool. No college. Maybe someday. I wasn’t ready. I’d planned to go through for art, then realized it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. You know how some kids deal by writing angsty poetry? That’s what art was for me. I still enjoy it, but the older I get, the less I do. Good thing I realized that before I blew a bundle on tuition.”

“Smart move. I wish I’d taken a few years off. At eighteen, I barely knew what I wanted to do with my weekend, let alone my life.”

“You don’t like being a cop?”

He shrugged. “Don’t love it, don’t hate it. I won’t stay in the job forever.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I have no idea. I’m not exactly the most impulsive guy in the world. It takes me a while to make a decision.” He paused. “I do know one thing I want, though.”

“What’s that?”

“A third date.” He put his arms around me and kissed me again.