Riley Scotts wanted to be a police officer someday, and today a real case had landed in her lap. A flyer on the lamppost showed a kitten with strange, shimmery wings. LOST, it said. MISSING SINCE YESTERDAY. Below the photo, a phone number and a shaky line: "She's scared of everything." Riley read it twice. A trail went cold fast. If she waited for a grown-up, the kitten could be gone for good. She ran home and filled her pockets. Her golden retriever puppy bounced at her heels, tail swinging, nose already working. "You're the search dog," Riley told him. She grabbed a handful of bone-shaped treats and a few biscuits and dropped them into a plastic bag. A frightened animal wouldn't come to a stranger. It might come to food. The puppy led her through yards and along fences. He stopped at a hedge, sniffed hard, then pulled toward the back of a neglected lot. Riley followed. There, half-swallowed by a thick climbing vine, stood an old playhouse. Boards covered its windows. Purple blossoms hung down over the cracked door. It was exactly the kind of dark, tight space a scared creature would choose. Riley knelt and peered through a gap in the boards. Two eyes blinked back at her. The kitten pressed itself into the far corner, wings trembling. When Riley reached in, it hissed and climbed higher, out of her arm's reach. She pulled back before she scared it worse. Grabbing wouldn't work. Patience would. She opened the bag and set a biscuit just inside the gap. Then another, in a line toward her hand. "It's okay," she said, low and slow. "Nobody's going to grab you." The puppy sat beside her, quiet now, like he understood. Minutes passed. The kitten's nose twitched. One paw stretched out. Then it crept forward, eating treats as it came, until it was close enough to touch. Riley didn't snatch. She let the kitten climb into her open hands on its own. It weighed almost nothing. The delicate wings folded flat against its back. She tucked it against her jacket, warm and shaking, and backed out of the lot before it could bolt again. She had done it. She had found the missing pet before the trail went cold. She dialed the number on the flyer. A woman answered on the first ring, breathless. Riley gave her location and described the kitten. The woman started crying with relief, then her voice turned sharp. "That's not my cat," she said. "My cat is gray. Where did you find a kitten with wings?" Riley looked down at the small creature in her arms. She had solved one case and walked straight into a stranger one. She still had a frightened, winged kitten that belonged to no one she knew, and a real lost pet was still out there somewhere.