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Ben looked at his watch. "Jilli does the day shift, so I doubt we'll catch her there now."
"Well, great, because I actually do have a job to do. Phone her, and make an appointment for tomorrow." I reached into my purse and took out a business card and a pen. After scrawling my cell phone number onto the back of it, I handed it across. "Ring me when you get a meeting time."
He glanced at the number then shoved it into his back pocket. "Thanks for coming out, Riley. I really do appreciate it."
I waved his thanks away. "As I said, it may yet turn out that there's nothing I can do."
"But you tried. More than the cops are doing, I fear."
There was no point in answering, simply because he was right. The cops wouldn't be chasing a BDSM session gone wrong as hard as they would a straight-out murder. It was a simple fact of policing life that priorities had to be given.
We left the apartment and rattled down the stairs. A couple of older men were near Ben's bike, one of them kneeling, as if inspecting the internals. I smiled. "You've got fans. Or your bike has."
"Beautiful bikes always get admirers. It's par for the course." He shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You will." I half-waved a good-bye, briefly watching - and enjoying - the sight of him sauntering toward the two men, then climbed into my car and drove off.
As I headed back into the traffic, I grabbed my phone and rang Kade.
"Hey, horse man," I said, when he answered. "What's happening out your way?"
"Nothing of interest at Gerard's place. I'm going back to the Directorate to hassle Cole for his initial report. There might be something helpful in there."
Hassling Cole didn't work. I'd tried it. "So no sign of a cat, real or shifter, at Gerard's?"
"Not a hair." He paused, and in the background, the music changed from dance to rock. "What are you doing?"
"The secretary told me who he was dating last night. I'm heading over to talk to her now."
"You want me along?"
"No, I'll be all right. I'll meet you back at the Directorate. Have a coffee ready for me. The real stuff, not that black muck we have in the machine."
"Your wish is my command," he said, voice deepening and oh so sexy.
I snorted. "Not going to work, my friend."
He laughed. "I can but try. See you soon."
I hung up and headed on. The traffic was so bad it took me another twenty minutes to get back to Alana Burns's apartment. Pressing the buzzer once again had little effect and there was no security guard handily sitting inside the small foyer to harass.
I stepped back and studied the balconies. There was a small concrete wall that separated the front stairs from the drive that led into the underground parking lot, but even if I stood on that, it was still a hell of a jump to the first balcony.
But maybe it wasn't so far for an inexperienced seagull to fly.
Excitement and doubt fluttered through me. Flying from a drop was a whole lot different than flying upward, but I had nothing to lose by trying. Nothing except more bruises.
I grabbed my cell and my badge out of my purse, shoved them into my pocket, then dropped the bag behind a potted bush, well out of sight. Then I clambered onto the wall and called to the magic in my soul. It swept through me, changing muscles and bone and body, until I was once again that dreaded seagull. I paddled along the wall a little bit, then looked up at the balcony.
It looked like a long, long way.
I could do this. It was just a matter of concentration. I adjusted my tail feathers and raised my wings, beating them as fast as I could to get the lift I needed. Down, back, up, down, back, up. And suddenly, I was going up, cutting through the air. Flying.
I felt like cheering. I concentrated on not falling instead.
I fluttered up and over the railing, then spread my tail feathers to act as a brake. But the change was too sudden, and I dropped too quickly, splattering chest-first against the concrete.
"Ow," I muttered, even though it came out little more than a harsh squawk. I rolled onto my back and shifted to human form. My chest still hurt. More bruises, no doubt.
