Simon sped up. I did the same.

As far as Cliff knew, I was working a standard abduction case, just another deadbeat dad who took off with the kid when he got the wrong end of the stick during divorce proceedings. My work for the Courts had been dwindling since Gilly was born, but it was still there, and I’d had a lot of practice hiding it. Maintaining a business as a private investigator made it easier. I could explain almost anything by saying that I had to work, and a lot of the time, it was the truth. It’s just that sometimes my cases were more Brothers Grimm than Magnum PI.

You don’t get knighted for nothing; it’s a title you earn, either through long service or by having a set of skills that someone really wants to have at their disposal. I’ve always had a talent for finding what I need to know, and when that came to Sylvester’s attention, he grabbed me, saying there were worse things than having a detective on the payroll. I go out, I find out what’s going on, and I let the knights who earned their titles in battle take over. I’m not stupid; I don’t engage. What I am is good at what I do.

One trace turned into two turned into two dozen, all pointing straight to Simon Torquill. He was renting a room in downtown San Francisco, paying cash on a daily basis. It was located on the Queen’s land, even, with no local regent or fiefdom to confuse the issue. Maybe that should have been a sign that something was wrong; after all, Simon was supposed to be a big mover and shaker in the local fae underworld. He should have known how to cover his tracks. I didn’t even think about it. I was too fixated on bringing Luna and Rayseline home.

Simon’s car switched lanes, moving toward Golden Gate Park. I followed. I’d been tailing Simon for three days, and if I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought I was chasing a dead end. But a woman and a little girl were missing, and we didn’t have any other leads.