"Which is?"
"You want the short form or the proper explanation?"
He hesitated. "Proper."
"Then it's a type of divination in which a trance is induced that allows the practitioner to see events or people — be they past, present or future. My preferred method is via a crystal ball, but any polished surface will do in an emergency."
"Then you've tried finding the other victims?"
Absolutely nothing showed in his face. But then, he was a cop, long schooled in the art of questioning without revealing. And despite the earlier instances of sensing his emotions, right now Kat was getting zip.
"Yes. But it's not something you can turn on and off. It often takes time."
"Time those children might not have."
"We know that, Detective."
He nodded. "Does talking to the victims' families help any?"
"No. It usually only muddies the psychic waters." Gwen hesitated. "You do know the chances of your niece still being alive are small, don't you?"
He didn't react, not physically. Yet his anger stepped into the room, became a presence that was almost overwhelming. "Until I see her body, I won't give up hope."
"That is as it should be."
"So will you try to find her? Now?"
Gwen pursed her lips. "I can't guarantee — "
"I'm asking you to try, not guarantee."
His voice was brusque, harsh. A man not used to asking for anything.
Gwen considered him for a long moment, then nodded. "Kat, get the crystal."
"Gran, you need to rest — "
"I feel the need to do this. Get the crystal for me."
Kat shot an annoyed look the detective's way but he absorbed it without impact. She climbed to her feet and retrieved the small ball from the table, handing it carefully to her grandmother.
Gwen eased her feet off the coffee table then carefully placed the crystal on it. She rolled her neck, stretched gnarled fingers until they cracked, then began to stare at the glittering surface of the ball. After a few moments, her gaze became glassy and unfocused. A sure sign that this time it was working.
Kat walked over to the sink, grabbed a glass of water and a couple of pain killers, then sat back down. There was nothing to do now but wait.
The detective made no noise, no move, his expression intense as he watched Gwen. He might not believe in psychics and witchcraft, but right now he was obviously desperate and willing to go to any lengths. Even if it meant relying on the unbelievable.
Kat finished her coffee and reached for the herbal pack, then lay back on the floor and placed it over her forehead. The detective's gaze swept her, something she felt rather than saw. Desire stirred deep inside. Gran was right — it had been far too long since she'd been with a man. And self administering to ease the ache was certainly a colorless substitute.
But by the same token, casual sex had lost its allure. She wanted something more. Something deeper. Something that just couldn't work with what she did.
Lord, why did this man have to be a werewolf in the midst of moon fever? She'd been doing all right until he came along to remind her she had needs just like everyone else.
Time ticked by. The sofa creaked as the detective leaned back. His gaze was a heated touch that began to sweep her more often. Hunger stirred between them, though it was less of a potent force than what she'd faced at the door. He could obviously control it better at some times than others, and she wondered what the deciding factor was. Inactivity, perhaps? Or the touch of the moon itself?
Gwen sighed. Kat sat up, catching the pack as it fell. Her grandmother's face was ashen, her breathing shallow. Kat scrambled to her feet and grabbed the water and pain killers.
"Here, take these."