Free Banshee Charmer (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #1) by Tiffany Allee

could I not access much of anything about Elaine Whitfield, I also couldn’t access Marisol’s address. But memory pulled at me, and I was fairly certain she lived in the same area as Elaine Whitfield. Moreover, Marisol had mentioned having a sister a time or two in casual conversation. I’d never caught the sister’s name, but Elaine’s date of birth put her a few years younger than me. Just in the right range to be Marisol’s sister.
    “Is that what you’re hiding?” I muttered to myself.
    Since the police database didn’t offer specifics, I turned to Google. The Whitfield name turned up little, and none of it seemed specific to the Whitfields I was looking for.
    “Dammit.” I snapped the laptop shut. This was getting me nowhere. I needed real information. I might not be able to access sealed files, but I knew someone who could.
    While I waited for Aidan to pick up the line, I fingered the plain white card. He answered on the second ring. “Byrne,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
    I glanced at the clock before I said anything and mentally winced at the time. “Hey, I need a favor.” My voice came out steadier than I expected.
    “Kiera?” He sounded confused. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.” Liar . “I need you to pull a sealed court record for me.”
    Silence filled the line for ten agonizing seconds before he replied, and I tapped my pen nervously against the closed laptop. Finally he said, “Do I want to know what this is about?”
    “Just following a hunch. Will you run her name or not?”
    “What’s the name?”
    “Elaine Whitfield.” I rattled off the address and he said he’d be in touch.
    I turned back to the database and plugged in the next name I needed more info on. Aidan Byrne. A few seconds later, the computer spit out no information. Again, not surprising if he was a cop. The same search in Google netted info on a chef and a college athlete, as well as a few social website pages. Nothing relating to a cop or a criminal. I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms. I’d bet my badge the man, distractingly hot as he was, and helpful as he seemed to be, was hiding something.
    It felt like everyone was hiding something. I shook my head. The second thing Amanda taught me on the job. Paranoia is a cop’s gift and curse.
    My phone rang and I grabbed it and flipped it open. “Find anything?”
    “First of all, you’re welcome.” Aidan still sounded groggy. To me it sounded like sexy, just-woke-up-after-a-night-of-amazing-sex groggy. Dammit. “And you won’t believe what I found.”
    …
    Marisol Whitfield and her sister,Elaine, lived in a small row-style home in the southern part of the city. I found parking a block away and stalked up to the house. The sun peeked over the horizon, and while it was still well shy of what most would consider a decent hour, I didn’t care.
    I hit the bell and then rapped on the door. After a few seconds I sounded the bell again, and it opened to reveal a bleary-eyed Marisol.
    “What’s going on, Mac? Something wrong? I didn’t get a call.” She stepped back from the door and glanced down at the cell phone she held in her hand. Her short, silky nightgown and matching robe fit her. And I was irritated to see that while she wore no makeup, she didn’t seem any less attractive.
    I stepped into the house and she looked up from her phone, frowning.
    “What’s this about?” Marisol asked.
    “Mari? Is everything all right?” A young woman who looked like she was in her early twenties stood at the top of the stairs. She wore a T-shirt and cotton shorts, and her resemblance to her sister was unmistakable.
    “It’s fine. Go back to bed. It’s a work thing,” Marisol said.
    I opened my mouth to argue but Marisol shot me a glare. Her sister nodded and disappeared back down the hallway.
    “Why are you here, Mac?” she hissed.
    “I’m here to find out why you lied to me.”
    “Lied to you? What are you talking about?”
    “I’m