text: Well, he would have made it there in twenty if it weren't that meddling DC traffic. As it was, they turned onto a leafy, residential street over half an hour later and parked in the shade.
  
  "Do you think it has something to do with Dr. Freeman?" Park asked as they got out of the car.
  
  Cooper startled. "What?"
  
  Dr. Emily Freeman was not a name he'd heard in a while. It had been his and Park's first case with the Trust. After she had disappeared with biological samples proving the existence of werewolves in her pocket and blood on her hands—well, accessory to murder on her hands, anyway—Cooper and Park had tracked her clean across the continent to the West Coast, but had lost her somewhere in British Columbia. Jurisdiction issues with the Canadians had eventually sent them back home. For the next month the Trust had been on high alert waiting for Freeman to reach out to her old contacts, but there was no sign of her and eventually her case had slipped into the unsolved files.
  
  It was not an auspicious start to their new careers. But thankfully every case they'd taken on since then had been successful. He and Park made good partners. Well, they had known that almost from the start. But recently, since moving in together, they seemed more in sync than ever.
  
  And it wasn't just Park that Cooper enjoyed working with. He'd been worried joining an agency consisting almost entirely of wolves would be isolating, that he'd hold Park back from making connections. But if anything it was the other way around. For the first time in a long time, Cooper was happy with his job and even getting along well with his colleagues. And now this mysterious call from Santiago.
  
  "What makes you think it has anything to do with Freeman?"
  
  Park shrugged. "Don't know. She's been on my mind lately. Something Cola said."
  
  Cooper hummed questioningly as they crossed the street.
  
  "She thinks if Freeman's smart she'll play the long game. Work on forming a new alliance with another wolf who wants to go public, rather than reaching out to any of her old human contacts."
  
  "We know Freeman's smart," Cooper said absently.
  
  Down the street he saw Santiago pacing the sidewalk outside a muted blue row house and fanning herself with a folder. Short, Latina and dressed in half a pantsuit—jacket missing—at first glance she looked exactly the same as always. But as they got closer Cooper could see dark shadows under her eyes that weren't there before, new spidery lines around her mouth and an involuntary flexing of her fingers when she ran them through her hair, like she was one more bit of bad news away from ripping it out.
  
  "Dayton." She caught sight of them and visibly collected herself. "You're late." It was so reminiscent of their years working together that Cooper stumbled slightly on the sidewalk. Santiago seemed to notice it, too, and her eyes tightened for a moment before looking behind Cooper. "And Agent Park. I appreciate you coming. Both of you. Hope it wasn't too much trouble getting here."
  
  Park inclined his head slightly in that way of his that always made him look like some kind of benevolent god accepting a loving sacrifice. When Cooper tried the same he looked like he'd suddenly dropped food down his shirt. "We were only in Foxhall."
  
  Santiago made a face. "Christ, what in the hell were you doing there?"
  
  Cooper heroically resisted the urge to look smugly at Park, but felt his inaudible sigh regardless.
  
  "We were surprised to hear from you," Park said. "Is there something wrong?"
  
  Santiago wiped her shoulder-length hair away from her neck. Another flex of her fingers. "Missing person. White male. Age forty-seven. Two weeks ago, in North Carolina. He was working as the groundskeeper at a retreat down there."
  
  "And the BSI thinks this is wolf related?"
  
  Santiago laughed. "Oh, it's wolf related. Our missing man is a wolf."
  
  Cooper frowned and glanced at Park, seeing his own confusion reflected there. "So it's a Trust case?"
  
  "There is no case. Not officially." Santiago's eyes shifted between the two of them. "Our missing man started working for this retreat in March. Last week he abruptly put in his notice and not a single soul has seen or heard from him since. There's no sign of a struggle. No friends or family to report him missing. He just dropped off the face of the earth and nobody cared."
  
  "You care," Cooper said, and Santiago shot him a sharp look. "You noticed," he amended.
  
  Santiago started fanning herself again and looked toward the house windows, impossible to see through with all the glare from the sun. "His disappearance was brought to my attention. But there are complications."
  
  "You're the Supervisory Agent in Charge of the BSI," Park said mildly. "What kind of complications prevent you from opening an official investigation? Or from passing it along to the Trust?"
  
  "You're Trust agents, aren't you? Here. Here's me passing it." She held the folder out, but when Park grabbed the other end, Santiago didn't let go. "Listen, I know why you left the BSI. I get it. But know bias is everywhere. Even when you don't recognize it at first. Even if it's coming from you." She looked specifically at Park. "Remember that."
  
  "I—" Cooper started, and the door to one of the houses opened behind them and Santiago cursed quietly, spinning in place to face the interruption.
  
  "Len?" A tall Latina woman was standing hesitantly on the threshold, hands still wrapped around the door's edge as if ready to slam it shut again. She was about Cooper's age, had strikingly long hair in a sloppy braid and was wearing loose, well-loved shorts and a T-shirt. She wore no shoes and she stood poised on the balls of her feet in a way that reminded Cooper a lot of Park. There was no real way to know when someone was a wolf—not unless they shifted in front of you, wholly or partially—but living with Park and working on a team that consisted almost entirely of wolves, he had started to notice little tells. Stance was one of them.
  
  Sure enough, when Cooper glanced at Park, he was staring at the woman in the doorway with an intent sort of recognition. But no. That wasn't right. This was more than the soft, warm recognition of a shared identity.
  
  Park looked pale. Drained. Slapped. This was personal.
  
  "Oh," the woman said. "It's you."
  
  Park blinked, then jerked his head in agreement, a caricature of the smooth nod of minutes before. "Ms. Muñoz."
  
  "You remember me." She nodded to herself. "There was a time I prayed the Shepherd would forget my face. But today I'm glad you have not. It saves us time."
  
  Santiago sighed. "We should finish this inside."