"You're telling me this is normal?" Dane Hunter's voice drifts through the open window to where I lay in the back seat of his car, sipping from my water bottle and waiting for the painkillers to kick in. "Because it doesn't seem normal," he adds.

Coleridge answers in a voice too low for me to hear.

"Seems like more trouble than he's worth," Hunter comments. "I don't need a psychic to tell me the vic was a homeless vet, or that he died at the scene."

This time, Coleridge speaks loud enough I can make out her words.

"Give him a chance, Dane. I know this isn't how you roll in the big city, but Hart's insights have proven useful in the past. Let him recover, and then listen to what he has to say. Sometimes it takes him a while to process what he's picked up."

Hunter grunts. "Fine. But next time assign someone else to circus duty. I'm not a babysitter."

They move away, and I miss whatever Coleridge says in reply.

The truth is, my reaction to this reading is not normal. Out of all the cases I've been asked to read so far, this one is by far the worst. The victim's death was awful, and I'd like nothing more than to forget everything I sensed from him and never think of it again, but I can't. It's what they pay me for, after all.

Footsteps approach, and then the door next to my head opens, flooding the interior of the car with painfully bright light. I groan in protest and cover my face.

"All right, Hart. Let's get this over with," Hunter says. His voice is gruff, but his hands are gentle as he helps me up and slides my dark glasses over my eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," I grimace.

My headache still pounds like a hammer inside my skull, and the feeling of nausea lingers at the back of my throat. I swallow against it carefully. Hunter's opinion of me is not likely to improve if I puke in his car.

Another sip of water and a few deep breaths, and I feel like I can hold it together long enough to give my report.

I look up and find Hunter standing with his arms crossed, watching me with borderline impatience.

"Aren't you going to write this down?" I ask. "I'm not saying it twice."

"I'll write it up later. Now talk."

"Fine," I try to snap, but it comes out soft.

Taking a deep breath, I relay my findings.

"The victim saw his killer, but it was too dark and confusing to get a good look. I think the killer might've had a dog with him, too--a lot of the impressions were of...teeth and..."

I stop for a moment, remembering. When I go on, my voice is barely a whisper.

"It's like there was something inhuman about him. The thought I kept getting was... 'monster.' I think we're dealing with one messed up son-of-a-bitch here, Dane. The victim...he was alive for...too long."

I can't hold it in any longer and lean out the door to throw up. Fortunately, Hunter has quick reflexes and steps aside, saving his shoes.

"Sorry." I rinse my mouth with some water. "I'm usually not this squeamish, but it was...really bad. The guy was conscious, but I guess he was out of it, too. He actually thought the killer ripped him open with his bare hands and was..." I swallow again, "...eating him alive."

Hunter frowns at me.

"As interesting as that may be, it doesn't actually give us anything to go on. Do you have anything else?"

I glare at him before remembering he can't see my eyes behind the dark shades.

"There was one thing. The killer wore a necklace of some sort--like a tooth or a claw on a string. It was the last thing the victim saw."

"That's it?" Hunter sounds unimpressed.

"Yes," I sigh. "That's it."

I lean back against the worn leather seat, feeling suddenly very tired, a little sad, and a bit unappreciated. I need to eat something.

"Can you ask someone to drive me home?" I ask. "This turned out rougher than I expected."

He watches me for a moment, unmoving. "Sure," he says. "I'll see what I can do."

He closes the door and leaves me, and I lay back again and curl onto my side.

I close my eyes, just meaning to rest for a moment, but when I open them again, the car is moving, and it's almost dark out.

I sit up. "What happened? What time is it?"

The reflection of Hunter's amber eyes meet mine in the mirror. "It's a little after six. I'm driving you home."

"Six? No one could give me a lift all day?

He doesn't answer right away. "Sorry. I forgot."

It takes me a minute to realize what he means. "You forgot me? In your car? For five hours?"

He grunts. "I get wrapped up in my work."

"I hope you don't have kids or pets," I say, and then cringe at my own words. A second later I offer a grudging apology. "Sorry. I get mean when I'm hungry."

Hunter makes a huffing noise that I realize is a laugh. "Same here."

A moment later he pulls up in front of my cottage. Unfolding myself from the back seat, I get out, feeling stiff and sore. Five hours is a long time to sleep in a car.

He gets out too and hands me my kit bag. "You need anything else?"

"Nope."

Nothing that he wants to give me, anyway. Although if he didn't look so eager to be gone I might have tried my luck and invited him in for a drink, at least.

"Great. I'll be in touch if we need you again." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. "Here--call me if you think of anything useful."

I take it, frowning at the implication that I haven't been useful so far. "Sure thing."

I start to walk away and he calls after me. "Hart--Julian. Do me a favor, okay? Don't wander around after dark. And don't go running alone in the woods."

"Why?" I ask.

"Just...don't. Not until we catch this guy."

I nod. I mean, it's good advice, after all.

He waits as I walk the rest of the way to my door, and I turn and wave once before going inside.

From the window, I watch as he climbs back in his car and drives away.

It would be so much easier if he was 100% asshole. Instead, he's just nice enough that my heart and my hormones have teamed up against my reason and decided not to let it win.

***

That night I dream of howling and of something scratching at the door. I wake up in a cold sweat, and I can almost hear the sounds from the dream still echoing in my ears. By the time I fall asleep again, it's almost dawn.

***

The next few days are pleasantly mundane. I don't see Ian or Hunter, and I have a string of new clients--some of whom are even mildly interesting.

I check the news every day, but so far no more bodies have turned up.

And I listen to Hunter, too, and stick to running along the more urban, populated routes. At least until Saturday.

I miss the woods, and decide that mid-morning on a weekend is probably the safest time to be out there. I know there will still be miles of trail where I might not see another person for long stretches at a time, but I'm not about to let fear keep me from something I enjoy.

At least that's what I tell myself until I'm standing at the trail-head, thinking about all the dark, overgrown places, and the fact that the last time I ran this route, I found a body.

I'm just about to give in to my jumpy nerves when I see another runner warming up with stretches by some rocks. He looks a few years older than me, maybe early thirties, tall and lean with thick black hair and a short, cleanly trimmed beard. I decide to take a chance and jog over.

"Hey," I wave. "Are you running the trail?"

He looks up at me and I see medium brown eyes under thick brows. He's not classically handsome, but he has rugged good looks in his own way. "Yeah. Why'd you ask?"

"Uh," I rub the back of my neck. "This might sound weird, but do you mind if I run with you? This thing with those murders has me freaked out."

He laughs. "No shit. My girlfriend's the same way. Thinks I'll end up in a ditch somewhere." He stands and squints at me. "Sure. Why not? I don't mind company."

Holding out his hand, he shakes mine. "Name's Leon."

"Julian."

"Nice to meet you, Julian." He smiles to reveal slightly stained and crooked teeth. Maybe he's one of those health-nuts who only brush with baking soda and twigs or something. No one's perfect.

We set off side by side. Leon has longer legs than I do, and I can tell he's pacing himself to match my speed. At the three-mile mark, I slow and stop. We're close to the spot where I found the first body, and for some reason, I'm struck with the desire to have another look at the scene. Maybe I'll notice something the police missed.

What I really want is to prove my usefulness to Hunter, but I'm doing a pretty good job of not admitting that to myself.

"Hey--I think I'm gonna head back," I say. "Thanks for the run."

"You sure? There's a small trail up ahead that cuts off and circles back. Makes a nice eight-mile loop."

I shake my head. "Sorry. I have to get back. Maybe next time?"

He smiles. "Sure, see you on the trails." Shaking my hand, he sets off, and in a few seconds is out of sight.

I follow at a slower pace, giving him plenty of time to get ahead so he won't see me following like a creep after I said I was turning back. A minute or so later, I reach the spot where I found the girl and step off the trail.

I poke around for a while, but the police did a good job. No sign remains of the grisly scene. I open my senses anyway, brushing my fingers through the leaves and over the rocks and a nearby fallen log.

I'm about to give up when the sound of a twig snapping makes me look up. I realize that no one has passed by on the trail for quite some time, and the forest is eerily still.

I hold my breath and wait. There's no further sound, but the silence is almost unbearable, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I get the feeling that I'm being watched.

"Come on, Julian," I tell myself. "Pull yourself together."

What are the chances that the murderer is still hanging around, just waiting for someone to wander by?

Then again, I've learned the hard way that ignoring my instincts is a bad idea. They screamed at me about Ian for a long time before it was too late to listen.

The creepy sensation intensifies, and I feel my heart-rate spike.

Then a bird bolts from the underbrush and flutters off, and the tension breaks. I lean forward with my hands on my knees and laugh with relief. Nothing like psyching yourself out when you're alone in the woods.

Still laughing at myself, I straighten and turn, and walk right into Dane Hunter's arms.