pick you up later."
"Pick me up for what?"
Gideon frowned, listening closely.
"The charity ball at the Amberwood Polo Club starts at eight tonight. We're going. Don't argue," Kincaid said.
"I'm not going."
"Yes you are."
"No. I can't stand crowds and it's not part of this case."
"There might be a connection."
"To what?" she snapped. "You think the social elite invited our killer to a charity gala?"
Gideon laughed. Keeping their agenda in mind, he turned down the receiver on the rest of the argument and let the car slip out of sight. He was already running late for his own meeting and had some errands to run before resuming his surveillance detail. If he was lucky, Petra would stay put. When they went out tonight, he'd be right there with them.
Alone in her suite, Petra didn't bother agonizing over Kincaid's heavy-handedness. He was who he was and bickering would never help.
She'd give just about anything to avoid this charity ball thing. Amberwood Polo Club was just the place she'd find her parents rubbing elbows with the fashionable and elite. Of course, they'd raised her with the expectation that she'd join them one day, but today the very idea left her bitter.
Petra tossed and turned in a futile effort to get comfortable in the hotel bed. She rolled over again and pummeled the pillow. It seemed sleep didn't come easy to a daughter in the throes of a rebellion. Rebellious was a modest description of her feelings since she uncovered a sister and watched her parents cut Nathan out of their world.
How they could just give up on him–their own flesh and blood–baffled her. No questions, no denials, just bland acceptance that he could visit such horrendous violence on another person.
Her parents didn't get it. Even now after all her years of analysis and service to various legal authorities, they didn't understand her ability to practically smell the presence of evil. Nathan didn't give off that vile sensation.
She knew him. Just as she knew evidence could be manipulated and retina signatures stolen. There was no way the brother she'd grown up loving and idolizing could hide such darkness from her. Their unique talents and perspectives bonded them. They'd shared everything through the years–even dreams.
The dreams!
The idea echoed in her mind and Petra realized she'd found the connection she needed. He couldn't push her away or fight her in dreams. It was the one special bond they'd never confessed to any of the doctors or analysts. She'd always had better control during their dreams, though he'd always been better able to discern their meanings.
Having no idea to Nathan's whereabouts or his sleep schedule, Petra decided to try anyway. She thought back to the very first dream she could recall sharing with him. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth of the precious memory fill her and carry her away.
She stood on the edge of a desert cliff, the red earth beneath her stretching out to meet a soft morning sky above. The sun hadn't yet conquered the eastern horizon and the air buffeting her child's body was cool.
Here, at the top of El Deir, a monument in the ancient city she was named for, she felt completely at ease. Thanks to her brother, this dream had become home more than anywhere she'd lived in her waking hours.
Here was where she'd learned to fly, before she understood how to control her out-of-body journeys. Smiling, she leaned into the wind and let it catch her.
She soared out above the cliffs, then dove down into the canyon like a hawk on the hunt. This was playtime, full and happy, and laughter bubbled up and out of her to dance across the air.
In her dream she flew everywhere, exploring the ruins of a once vibrant population. She ducked in and out of tombs and catacombs, soared over the amphitheatre and up to the Temple of the Winged Lions.
He'd shown her this place when she was young and he'd told her she'd grow into a winged lioness–strong, powerful, and protective. They would meet here in
"Pick me up for what?"
Gideon frowned, listening closely.
"The charity ball at the Amberwood Polo Club starts at eight tonight. We're going. Don't argue," Kincaid said.
"I'm not going."
"Yes you are."
"No. I can't stand crowds and it's not part of this case."
"There might be a connection."
"To what?" she snapped. "You think the social elite invited our killer to a charity gala?"
Gideon laughed. Keeping their agenda in mind, he turned down the receiver on the rest of the argument and let the car slip out of sight. He was already running late for his own meeting and had some errands to run before resuming his surveillance detail. If he was lucky, Petra would stay put. When they went out tonight, he'd be right there with them.
Alone in her suite, Petra didn't bother agonizing over Kincaid's heavy-handedness. He was who he was and bickering would never help.
She'd give just about anything to avoid this charity ball thing. Amberwood Polo Club was just the place she'd find her parents rubbing elbows with the fashionable and elite. Of course, they'd raised her with the expectation that she'd join them one day, but today the very idea left her bitter.
Petra tossed and turned in a futile effort to get comfortable in the hotel bed. She rolled over again and pummeled the pillow. It seemed sleep didn't come easy to a daughter in the throes of a rebellion. Rebellious was a modest description of her feelings since she uncovered a sister and watched her parents cut Nathan out of their world.
How they could just give up on him–their own flesh and blood–baffled her. No questions, no denials, just bland acceptance that he could visit such horrendous violence on another person.
Her parents didn't get it. Even now after all her years of analysis and service to various legal authorities, they didn't understand her ability to practically smell the presence of evil. Nathan didn't give off that vile sensation.
She knew him. Just as she knew evidence could be manipulated and retina signatures stolen. There was no way the brother she'd grown up loving and idolizing could hide such darkness from her. Their unique talents and perspectives bonded them. They'd shared everything through the years–even dreams.
The dreams!
The idea echoed in her mind and Petra realized she'd found the connection she needed. He couldn't push her away or fight her in dreams. It was the one special bond they'd never confessed to any of the doctors or analysts. She'd always had better control during their dreams, though he'd always been better able to discern their meanings.
Having no idea to Nathan's whereabouts or his sleep schedule, Petra decided to try anyway. She thought back to the very first dream she could recall sharing with him. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth of the precious memory fill her and carry her away.
She stood on the edge of a desert cliff, the red earth beneath her stretching out to meet a soft morning sky above. The sun hadn't yet conquered the eastern horizon and the air buffeting her child's body was cool.
Here, at the top of El Deir, a monument in the ancient city she was named for, she felt completely at ease. Thanks to her brother, this dream had become home more than anywhere she'd lived in her waking hours.
Here was where she'd learned to fly, before she understood how to control her out-of-body journeys. Smiling, she leaned into the wind and let it catch her.
She soared out above the cliffs, then dove down into the canyon like a hawk on the hunt. This was playtime, full and happy, and laughter bubbled up and out of her to dance across the air.
In her dream she flew everywhere, exploring the ruins of a once vibrant population. She ducked in and out of tombs and catacombs, soared over the amphitheatre and up to the Temple of the Winged Lions.
He'd shown her this place when she was young and he'd told her she'd grow into a winged lioness–strong, powerful, and protective. They would meet here in
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