Hunter watched Lucien take a few sips of the water, noting the slight tremor in his hand when he placed it in the same spot on the edge of the desk.

He didn't put much stock in psychics. Hunter didn't completely discount such things. He and his twin and the Triplets often had an uncanny way of knowing things that involved each other. Hunter never personally dealt with anyone who claimed to have such abilities.

His cop's gut told him to pay attention to Lucien St. John despite his misgivings.

"You see, Detective, I have horrible, terrifying dreams. In them, I can see, but not clearly. I have had these dreams since I was a child, shortly after I lost my sight." He frowned, shaking his head.

"It is like an echo...or a smudged picture. I don't know colors," he tapped his fingers on his cane. "I hadn't learned them when I lost my sight. I only knew black and white, green, and blue by sight. And I couldn't read when it happened. I hadn't learned yet.

"I can see street signs in the dreams, but I have no idea what they say or what the letters even are. I can only read Braille..." he drew a deep breath. "And I'm certain you'll discover it, but I will tell you that I have been arrested before. I was charged with murder."

Hunter frowned. "When and where was this?" He woke up his computer and quickly typed Lucien's name into the database.

It didn't take long for it to return nothing.

"Seven years ago, in a very small town in West Virginia."

"What happened?'' Hunter prompted when Lucien didn't continue. He adjusted the search parameters and waited for the computer to again return no results.

Hm.

It was not unusual for people to confess to crimes they didn't commit for attention. Nothing he knew about the artist gave him the impression he was that sort, but the man was extremely reclusive and rarely attended his own gallery showings. Anything was possible.

"I was traveling with my Aunt Prudence. We were exploring the folk art of Appalachia. I started dreaming within hours of our arrival. It was..." Lucien closed his eyes, opening them with a frown. "It was brutal. Nothing before then was so vivid or felt so real.

"After a few weeks of nightmares, I convinced Aunt Pru to take me to the police, so I could tell them what I saw. I hoped it would stop the dreams.

"I was wrong," his fine lips twisted wryly. "They arrested me and told Prudence that only the killer could know what I knew. Even though I was not in the state when the killing started, and had no weapon, no means to get about on my own, and was completely unfamiliar with the area. They were determined to pin it on me."

"Obviously, they failed," Hunter pointed out, tamping down anger at the shoddy treatment the other man suffered through.

Lucien shrugged. "When two more people were killed with me locked away, they had no choice but to release me. Prudence chartered a private flight and got us back to Texas within hours. She sued the shit out of them, not for money, mind you, but to clear my name. I'm not certain of the outcome, but she told me the matter was sorted, and not to concern myself with it any longer."

Hunter nodded. "And the dreams this time, they're the same?"

"Not the same killer, of course," Lucien sighed. "But they have the same terrifyingly real feel to them."

"Did telling someone about them help before?"

Lucien shook his head, sadness darkening his bright eyes. "Not until we left the area."

"Okay," Hunter tapped a nail on the edge of his keyboard. "How many victims are you aware of at this point?"

Lucien blinked slowly, a frown creasing his brow and he ran his hands along the cane in his lap. "He's killed five, so far," he whispered. "He just took another, and he is always hunting."

"Can you tell me anything about that?"

"I know very little about the one he took last night. Her car was small, without a top. He took her from a club or bar. A loud place with men outside at the door. She goes there several times a week, and he's been waiting for her to leave alone. She did that last night.

"She is tall, with light hair, long colorful nails, and wears quite a bit of jewelry. She was wearing a short shirt that bared her belly, an equally short skirt, and high-heeled boots to her knees. I don't know where he took her, but she was unconscious when he tied her up."

Lucien drew a slow breath, sipped more water, and swallowed hard.

"He has been following another woman for a while. There are high hedges where he stalks her. Very green but woody. A long drive, not paved, but with loose bright white sparkling stones. A big house and a long car. Not black, not white, but bright. She has long straight hair and wears short skirts, boots, and big glasses, not dark, but shiny. Her nails are long and shiny, and she is sometimes with a shorter man, but most often alone.

"He follows her through smooth streets away from houses onto a highway. They travel until they leave the highway and take many turns until they turn between tall buildings and park in the dark. I think it is a garage, but there are echoes, so perhaps it is a bigger parking structure.

"He waits for her there, then follows her back to her house. When she leaves to go to parties and clubs, he goes too. He follows her in sometimes, watches her with others, and waits for her to see him. She never leaves alone, though.

"Until she does, he cannot make her see him."

Hunter looked up from the notes he was taking. An eerie glow in Lucien's eyes made his mind go blank. He knew the other man couldn't see him, but at that moment, he felt exposed, stripped naked of everything.

"Could...Did you notice any letters or numbers on the car or the house? Maybe a sign near any of the buildings?"

"I did but I don't know what they are. I can't read that way," he whispered, clearly frustrated. "I'm sorry."

Hunter thought. "Well...could you draw it?"

Lucien arched a brow and reached under his coat, pulling out a pencil and a slim notepad.

He propped it against his cane in his lap and closed his eyes, tilting his head at an angle, holding the pencil poised.

"At the bottom of the car," Hunter said softly, "the long car that's not black, not white, but bright. There's a license plate. What is it?"

Lucien nodded slightly, starting to sketch. "I see them," he murmured.

Hunter watched him draw, sure swipes of the pencil scratching along until he stopped.

"And the highway. There are big green signs with shiny white letters. Can you see any of them?"

Lucien nodded quickly. "I can."

"Draw the first one where they get on and the last one, where they leave the highway."

Lucien flipped another page.

"Next one," Hunter encouraged when he finished. "The tall buildings where the long car turns. Can you draw me any signs you see on the way there or once they park in the dark?"

Hunter waited, watching the artist he idolized sketch his nightmares.

***

Jordy jumped when his cell rang. The call interrupted an epic run on Candy Crush, but when he saw the caller ID, he forgot about the game and quickly answered.

"Luc? You done?"

"Yes. "

Jordy tightened his grip on the phone. Luc sounded exhausted.

"Detective Carlisle is walking me out."

"I'll be right there."

After some rather clever -and daring- maneuvering through downtown Fort Worth traffic, Jordy managed to pull up in front of the police station at Throckmorton.

He spotted Luc standing with a man who was just shy of his six-foot-five height but far stockier than the slender artist. His dark hair was kept short with slightly longer curls at the top.

Jordy snapped his hazard lights on and risked his life to get out of the car and make it to the passenger side. He slipped between a sedan and an SUV to gain the sidewalk.

"...need anything, please feel free to call me directly." The cop -Carlisle, Jordy supposed- pressed a card into Luc's hand.

"Thank you, Detective," Luc said with a tired smile. "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you."

Jordy arched a brow as he approached. The warm regard in Carlisle's bright blue eyes was clear as day to Jordy. The guy was 'shipping hard for Luc.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He was certain he had no right to feel anything, but he was only human.

"This is my dear friend and personal assistant, Jordan Kelsey," Luc said as he stopped a few paces away. "Jordy, Detective Carlisle."

The Detective offered him a hand and he reached out to shake. "I'm guessing he's not under arrest, then."

The cop smiled. "Mr. St. John is doing his civic duty."

"Wait, you believe him? Where the hell were you seven years ago?" Jordy griped, stepping back so Luc could open his cane.

"Vice," Carlisle answered. "Mr. St. John, please take care of yourself. And don't hesitate to reach out."

Luc gave a slow nod and another smile. He moved over to the curb and waited.

"So, you believe him," Jordy pressed.

Carlisle shrugged. "Why not? He gave pertinent details, and he is obviously incapable of committing these acts himself. I will be running several checks, of course, but I have no intention of pursuing a case against him based on what he told me today."

Jordy held his gaze for a moment, trying to decide if he was sincere. "He's a bit naive, trusting people to do the right thing because it's what he would do."

Carlisle nodded. "He put himself out there for people he doesn't know and never will. I respect that. He's worn himself out, though. You should get him home and get him something to eat."

"You know he can't read print, right?"

"I'm aware. Have a good day Mr. Kelsey. Thank you for bringing him down here."

***

Luc breathed a sigh of relief the moment he stepped into his home. Jordy was close behind him but didn't stop him. He placed his cane in a holder by the door, the dark glasses on a shelf just above it, and shed his coat and gloves.

"You didn't eat breakfast. Can I get you anything?"

Luc didn't answer Jordy right away, his mind stuck on Hunter Carlisle.

He didn't need eyes to tell him the pop star turned police detective was a specimen worth further examination.

Hunter's ability to understand how Luc interacted with his world was a pleasant surprise. It was refreshing to be seen as a person and not a project. Luc despised being treated as though he were helpless and fragile.

Prudence refused to let him fall into such a mindset, and he was eternally grateful for her tenacity when it came to forcing him to learn to do for himself. Granted when he was working, he tended to become immersed, but that was when Jordy stepped in to remind him to do vital tasks.

Like eating.

And sleeping.

Hunter's scent was heavily soaked into his office. It was fresh and sharp with earthy notes. The scent of another man was prominent as well, spicier than Hunter's, and familiar, but just as clean.

The combination of both was enough to keep Luc focused despite the internal battle he always waged when he stepped outside of his controlled environment.

And then there was that voice.

Luc wandered down the long hall to his room. In the closet, he ran a hand along the bar until he found the empty hanger and hung his coat up.

Detective Carlisle spoke with a rich Texas accent, in a smooth, rolling tone that sent shocks of pleasure through Luc. Hunter's voice, when he walked him through recalling his dreams, was calming, soothing, and riveting.

Why such a thing never occurred to Luc before he couldn't say, but it had been effortless.

Following Hunter's quiet prompts, he could clearly see the details in his mind's eye, freezing them so he could sketch them. Luc doubted it would have mattered if the man was speaking Klingon with a broken jaw and a mouthful of glass shards. He could listen to Hunter all day.

Luc moved to another section of the closet, leaving his gloves in a small cubby under the coats, and pulled the turtleneck over his head. Once it was hung up, he braced a hand on the bar to pull off his shoes and socks, returning each item to the empty slot reserved for it.

"Each thing in its place," he murmured, hearing Aunt Pru in his memory.

Once his pants were neatly hung up, he moved to the other side of the closet to open a drawer

and pull out a pair of soft fleece lounge pants. He slipped them on over his boxer briefs and padded barefoot out of the closet.

Jordy was waiting for him in his room, and he smiled at him.

"I think I could eat."

"I ordered pho for you. It should be here in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay?"

"No, get back to Celia," Luc ran a hand through his hair, relaxing even further in his own space.

It was good to be home.

"Detective Carlisle was digging on you. Like, hard."

Luc smiled, arching a brow at the shades of emotion in Jordy's words. His friend was never more than that, even as boys. He hoped he wouldn't have to have The Talk with him. Luc simply didn't see Jordy that way, he never had.

And he was certain Jordy would never fall in line with Luc's brand of pleasure.

Detective Carlisle was another matter altogether. Luc didn't miss the suppressed eagerness in his words. Jordy was correct. The Detective found him attractive.

Luc wondered, however, if Hunter was drawn to whatever image he had of him through his art or the real-life version.

"He was completely professional, Jordy," he assured him. "And, I think, maybe this time, it might work. I might be done with the dreams."

"Too soon to know for sure, though. I mean, it hasn't even been an hour."

"This time, I did more. I got it out of my head and in front of his eyes."

"How the hell did you do that?"

"I drew it for him. He helped me remember details, and I drew it."

"Whose idea was that?" Jordy sounded suspicious.

"It was his. I don't know why I never thought to just sketch any of it out."

Jordy fell silent, and Luc left his room, heading for his studio. He felt energized, despite the fatigue that hit him after he finished the last sketch for Hunter. Maybe he could push around some clay and see what shape it fell into.

"Just be careful," Jordy said behind him as he unwrapped a block of his favorite sculpting clay. "I mean, he's a cop. No matter what, he's gonna pursue the case."

"I would expect nothing else."

"Luc, he might find out more about you than you want him to know."

"I told him about West Virginia."

"I'm talking about...the other thing."

Luc smoothed his thumbs along the edges of the clay, frowning. "I have nothing to hide," he murmured.

And truth be told, he wouldn't mind speaking to Hunter Carlisle again. Just the possibility made his pulse skip.

"Yeah, but," Jordy sighed. "You don't know if the coast is clear."

Luc nodded. "I'm safe, for now. If it comes down to it, I will do what needs to be done."